How Iyanla Vanzant Changed My Perspective

 

My Lifelong Love for Reading 

I’ve been hooked on books since I was a kid. There’s something about them that sticks with you—they shape who you are, broaden your understanding of life, and sometimes even point you toward your dreams. They make you smarter, sure, but they also offer this quiet guidance that’s hard to find anywhere else. These days, it feels like the younger crowd is more into shopping, hanging out with friends, or hitting up parties—reading doesn’t exactly scream “cool.” But even with our packed schedules, I’ve noticed books sneaking back into people’s downtime. There’s nothing quite like sitting down with a coffee and a good book to unwind. Studies even back this up—reading calms you down, quiets the noise, and pulls you out of the daily grind for a bit.

My own reading journey kicked off when I was 15. A friend handed me “Live Your Dreams” by Les Brown, and it was like a light switched on. You know that feeling when a book hits you just right, like it’s speaking straight to you? That’s what this one did. Les Brown digs into what life’s really about—how shifting your mindset and dreaming big can turn those dreams into reality. He says if you don’t dream, you don’t hope, and that stuck with me. It was the first time I realized how much power my thoughts had. After that, I started digging into other authors who flipped my worldview—Gary Zukav, Deepak Chopra, Louise L. Hay. Each one brought something new, reshaping how I saw myself and the world.

Lately, though, one writer and speaker has really grabbed me: Iyanla Vanzant. She’s become a constant in my life—whether I’m out shopping with my husband, grabbing coffee, or just chilling in the park, I’ve got her books or talks on my mind. Her website’s worth a peek; she’s got this way of cutting through the noise with insights that feel raw and real. She’s woken me up to mistakes I didn’t even know I was making. One talk she did with Oprah on “Oprah’s Lifeclass” about pain blew me away. I’ve been telling everyone about it—it’s that good. It made me rethink what pain actually is, and I’m excited to unpack that here, along with how her ideas have shifted my whole approach to life.

How Reading Took Root in My Life

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I fell for books, but by 15, it was official. That’s when “Live Your Dreams” came into my hands, thanks to a friend who probably didn’t realize she was changing my life. Les Brown’s words were like a wake-up call—simple but powerful. He talks about owning your story, pushing past limits, and dreaming bigger than you think you’re allowed to. I’d been coasting along, not really thinking about what I wanted, and here was this guy saying my dreams could actually happen if I got serious about them. It wasn’t fluffy self-help; it was practical, like a roadmap I didn’t know I needed.

From there, I dove into more. Gary Zukav’s “The Seat of the Soul” got me thinking about energy and intention—stuff I’d never considered before. Deepak Chopra brought this calm, spiritual angle that made me feel more connected to everything. And Louise L. Hay? Her take on self-love and affirmations was a game-changer—I started catching myself when I’d slip into negative thoughts. These books weren’t just reads; they were like teachers, each one nudging me toward a better version of myself. I’d scribble notes in the margins, dog-ear pages, and carry them around like treasures.

Reading became my thing—still is. Even now, with a million things on my plate, I make time for it. It’s my reset button. I’ll grab a coffee, find a quiet spot, and let a book pull me in. It’s not about escaping life; it’s about stepping back to see it clearer. And lately, Iyanla Vanzant’s been the one keeping me hooked. Her blend of tough love and deep wisdom has me rethinking everything, especially after that “Lifeclass” episode on pain.

Discovering Iyanla Vanzant

I first came across Iyanla Vanzant a few years back, flipping through channels and landing on her show “Iyanla: Fix My Life” on OWN. Her no-nonsense style caught me off guard—she doesn’t sugarcoat, but she’s warm too, like she’s rooting for you. I started digging into her books after that—“Peace from Broken Pieces” was the first, and it hit hard. She writes about her own struggles, losing her daughter and piecing herself back together, and it’s real in a way that makes you feel less alone. But it was her “Oprah’s Lifeclass” talk on pain that really got me. My husband jokes I’ve become her unofficial hype person—I can’t stop talking about it.

That episode, aired back in 2012, is one I’ve watched over and over. It’s called “Iyanla Vanzant Defines Pain,” and it’s free on Oprah’s site if you want to check it out. She breaks pain down in this way that’s so simple but flips everything you think you know. I’d always figured pain was crying over a breakup or feeling down after a bad day. But Iyanla says it’s bigger than that—it’s the stuff we do to cover it up, like shopping too much, drinking a little extra, or smoking when we’re stressed. She calls it “Pay Attention Inward Now,” or PAIN, and that acronym stuck with me. It’s not just the obvious hurt; it’s the quiet ways we leak energy trying to dodge it.

What she said next really shook me: we look outside ourselves to fix what’s hurting inside. I’d done that—thought a new bag or a night out would patch up a rough patch. But she’s right—it doesn’t work. Pain’s trying to tell you something, and unless you face it, it festers. She ties it to the past too—if you don’t heal old wounds, you’re just bleeding out, masking it with distractions. I started seeing it in my own life, those little habits I’d brushed off as “just me.” That talk was a wake-up call, and I’ve been sharing it with anyone who’ll listen.

Iyanla’s Take on Pain and Healing

In that “Lifeclass” episode, Iyanla lays out pain in a way that’s both blunt and kind. She says it’s not natural—we’ve just gotten used to burying it. Society’s big on telling us to suck it up, be strong, don’t cry about it. I’ve heard that my whole life—“Don’t feel like that,” or “You’ll get over it.” But Iyanla pushes back: “What do you mean don’t feel that way? I already do.” It’s so obvious when she says it, but it’s a shift—feeling’s not weak; it’s human. She’s all about owning it, not shoving it down.

Her three-step plan to deal with pain is gold: feel it, deal with it, heal it. First, you’ve got to let yourself sit with what’s there—no running. I tried this after a fight with a friend—instead of texting someone else to vent, I just let it sink in. It sucked, but it helped me see what was really bothering me. Then you deal with it—figure out what it’s tied to, what’s keeping it alive. For me, it was old baggage about being let down. Healing’s the last part—letting it go once you’ve faced it. It’s not instant, but it’s freeing when you start.

She drops this line that’s stayed with me: “Unless you heal the pain, you won’t find peace.” It’s so true. I’d been chasing fixes—new shoes, a glass of wine—thinking they’d settle me. But they didn’t; they just delayed the real work. Iyanla says pain’s your life force leaking out, and that image hit me hard. I didn’t want to keep leaking—I wanted to patch it up and move forward. Her talk made me look back at my past, at stuff I’d ignored, and start sorting through it instead of pretending it wasn’t there.

Prisons We Build and Breaking Free

Another thing Iyanla gets into is how we trap ourselves in prisons—mental, physical, spiritual. She’s not just talking jail cells; it’s the situations we stay in that hurt us. Maybe it’s a partner who doesn’t treat you right, or a belief that’s holding you back, like not trusting yourself. I saw it in my own life—a job I stuck with too long because I thought I had to be “strong” and push through. She says being strong that way isn’t good—it’s putting everyone else first and leaving yourself last.

That led to this gem: “How you treat yourself is how you treat God.” It’s big. If you’re God’s reflection, running yourself ragged or letting people walk over you isn’t just self-harm—it’s disrespecting something bigger. I’d never thought of it like that. I used to bend over backwards for others, thinking it made me noble. Iyanla flipped that—put yourself first, not out of selfishness, but to be “self-full.” Fill your cup so you’ve got something to give. She says, “What comes out of the cup is for y’all, what’s in the cup is for me.” I love that—it’s practical, not preachy.

She ties it to giving too much, too. “When you sacrifice yourself for others, you make them a thief,” she says with a smile. It’s funny but dead-on. I’d give up my time, my energy, thinking it’d earn me points somewhere—maybe heaven, maybe just approval. But Iyanla’s point is they’re taking what you need, and they don’t even realize it. It’s not their fault; it’s on you for not setting boundaries. That one’s still sinking in—I’m working on saying no without guilt, and it’s a process.

 Addiction and Seeing Ourselves in Others

Iyanla’s take on addiction opened my eyes too. It’s not just drugs or booze—it’s anything you lean on too hard. Food, sugar, sex, even pleasing people. I’ve got my own: online shopping, scrolling social media endlessly. She says almost everyone’s got something, and that made me less judgy. I used to side-eye friends who’d overdo it with wine or whatever, but then I’d catch myself bingeing on snacks or buying stuff I didn’t need. We’re all wrestling with pain in our own ways.

She pushes you to look at yourself before pointing fingers. “You’re a victim too,” she says, and it’s true. My shopping sprees weren’t just fun—they were me dodging something, like boredom or a bad day. Seeing that softened me up toward others. My friend who drinks too much? She’s hurting, same as me when I’m refreshing my cart. Iyanla’s not about shaming—she’s about understanding, and it’s made me more patient with people, myself included.

It’s tied to her pain idea—addictions are masks. You think they’re helping, but they’re just bandaids on a bigger wound. I’ve started catching myself mid-scroll or mid-snack, asking, “What’s this really about?” Sometimes it’s nothing deep, just habit, but other times it’s stress I haven’t dealt with. Iyanla’s voice in my head keeps me honest—it’s not about perfection; it’s about noticing.

Why Iyanla Stands Out

What gets me about Iyanla is how real she keeps it. She’s been through it—abuse, loss, all of it—and she doesn’t pretend otherwise. Her books, like “Peace from Broken Pieces,” lay that out raw, and it’s why I trust her. That “Lifeclass” episode on pain isn’t some fluffy lecture—it’s her breaking down something messy and human in a way that clicks. She’s not up there preaching; she’s talking like she’s been where you are, and that’s rare.

Her quotes stick too. “When you don’t show up as who you are, people fall in love with who you’re not”—that one’s a gut punch. I’ve done it, faked it to fit in, and wondered why I felt empty after. Or this: “You have to be good to yourself to be of service to the world.” It’s not selfish—it’s logic. I’ve been running on empty before, trying to help everyone else, and it left me burned out. She’s flipped that for me—fill up first, then share.

She’s practical too. That three-step pain plan? I’ve used it. It’s not vague self-help fluff—it’s a to-do list: feel, deal, heal. I’ve sat with tough stuff—like guilt over a falling out—and worked through it instead of brushing it off. It’s slow, but it works. Her mix of straight talk and big-picture wisdom keeps me coming back—she’s like a friend who won’t let you slack but still has your back.

How She’s Changed Me

Iyanla’s shifted how I move through life. I’m more aware now—when I’m upset, I don’t just grab my phone or hit the store. I pause, ask what’s up, and try to face it. It’s not always pretty, but it’s better than piling on more junk to sort through later. I’ve cut back on the little escapes too—less mindless scrolling, fewer impulse buys. It’s not about being perfect; it’s about catching myself before I spiral.

I’m nicer to myself now, too. That “self-full” idea got me—I’d always thought putting myself first was wrong, but she’s right: you can’t pour from an empty cup. I’ve started small, like saying no to plans when I’m wiped or taking a night to read instead of rushing around. It’s made me a better friend, weirdly—when I’m solid, I’ve got more to give. And I’m less quick to judge others. Seeing my own “prisons” and “addictions” made me get that everyone’s got their stuff.

Her past-healing angle’s big for me too. I’ve dug into old hurts—stuff with family, old friendships—and started letting it go. It’s not overnight, but I feel lighter. That “bleeding out” line keeps me motivated—I don’t want to leak anymore; I want to heal. Iyanla’s given me tools, not just words, and that’s why she’s stuck with me.

Why I Wish “Lifeclass” Was Still On

That pain episode’s just one gem from “Oprah’s Lifeclass”—I wish it was still running. Oprah and Iyanla together were electric, breaking down big ideas into stuff you could actually use. I’ve hunted down clips online, but I’d love fresh episodes. Oprah’s got this way of pulling out the best from her guests, and with Iyanla, it was gold every time. I’m eyeing the Anniversary Collection—25 DVDs of her best shows, including “Lifeclass.” It’s on my list; I want to soak up more of that wisdom.

The show’s format was perfect—real people, real problems, real talk. That pain one from March 2012—I’ve watched it on YouTube a dozen times. Iyanla’s got this calm authority, and Oprah’s right there amplifying it. They’d tackle everything—pain, guilt, love—and leave you with something to chew on. I’ve shared it with friends, family, even my husband, who’s not big on self-help but nodded along. It’s timeless stuff, and I’d kill for new rounds of it.

Reading’s Still My Anchor

Books are still my lifeline, and Iyanla’s just the latest chapter. From Les Brown lighting that first spark to her shaking me awake now, reading’s kept me growing. It’s my quiet rebellion against the rush—while everyone’s out chasing the next thing, I’m here with my coffee and a page. It’s not about being antisocial; it’s about keeping my head straight. Iyanla’s books—“Peace from Broken Pieces,” “Tapping the Power Within”—are on my shelf next to Zukav and Hay, and they all fit together, like a team pushing me forward.

I’ve got her voice in my head now, nudging me to feel what’s real, deal with it, and let it heal. It’s made me braver—not loud-brave, but steady-brave. I’m not perfect at it—some days I still shop too much or zone out—but I catch myself faster. Reading’s my way in, and Iyanla’s my latest guide. What about you—what’s a book or talk that’s flipped your world? I’d love to hear it; I’m always up for a good rec.

Oprah on Oprah Lifeclass