Identity Archives - Page 19 of 28

In Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships

Broken, Cracked Souls

Julianne HarveyNovember 22, 2016Leave a comment

Once upon a time there was a girl who wanted to be loved. She longed to fill every broken and cracked room in her soul with affection, warmth and care.

She felt empty. Damaged. Alone in a large and intimidating world. When this girl looked to the adults who were supposed to be in charge, she didn’t feel safe. They were drinking, fighting, manipulating, lying, hiding and punishing with bitter silences.

The girl ached for truth. She wanted to know what was right and wrong by watching it in action, not hearing about it in words, for the actions did not match the fancy, dressed-up lingo.

Over time, this girl learned to deny her own desires for love, honesty and kindness. She made her reality fit with her yearnings, even when the two things were oceans apart. She compromised, crammed, altered and minimized. In this way she could survive her own sensitivities to pain, darkness, fear and secrets.

Then the girl grew into an adult. By now her denial was as natural as the breaths she took, without once pausing to consider the function that her breath and denial played. She went to school, she worked, she fell in love, she got married, she had kids, she joined the PTA. The girl was now a woman, sleepwalking through her days and nights, frozen in her buried feelings, lying the same way her parents taught her to.

When the girl was 37 years old she finally woke up. The agony of feeling those emotions was excruciating, but at least now she could tell she was alive. She learned that minimizing your feelings leads to rage on a slow boil, so fucking toxic that it will eventually consume you if you don’t face it head on and call it by its proper name.

The girl found people who taught her how to love and how to be loved. It was foreign and exhilarating and awful. It was vulnerable, the only place she ever experienced actual freedom and truth. It took every ounce of bravery and trust she could summon. Every single day she had to find the strength to do it all again, but it was better than the frigid numbness of the first half of her sleeping life.

Now the girl could show her children a new path: one that embraced the entire feeling spectrum. This was big and expansive and wide by comparison. She could lean in and love with her whole heart. She could practice relying on others, not the ones who had routinely let her down, but a fresh set of people who proved worthy by their actions instead of their meaningless promises. Now the girl could breathe.

She could create for herself what her family of origin could not give her, either in her childhood or now. The cracks in her soul would heal but never disappear. They were reminders of what she had overcome, hopeful markers for those in desperate need of light and redemption. The girl had a dream to bring these broken and cracked souls together, to one place of nurture and belonging, so they could love one another back to life and know they weren’t alone any longer.

In Culture, Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth

When Worried, We Have Two Choices

Julianne HarveyNovember 8, 2016November 7, 2016Leave a comment

Like most people, I’m concerned about the U.S. election today. But I’m over worrying about the things I cannot control. I’ve wasted too much time on that already.

When something is worrying us, we have two choices. We can stew and obsess and forecast disaster. Or we can intentionally choose to hope that it’s all going to work out the way it’s meant to. Probably not the way we would design it, but we only have a portion of the information we need at any given time. In order to see the whole picture, we have to simply keep going to see what’s next.

This summer I decided to live in the now instead of the future or the past. It was easier to do this when I was sick in the hospital and recovering at home, because my whole world shrank down to the next hour in front of me. I could not make any plans for anything beyond that.

Once I accepted this reality, everything got easier, simpler and clearer. Planning for the next hour makes more sense than the next month, year or decade. But when I recovered from my ruptured appendix and we were suddenly moving to BC and dealing with massive change, my commitment to staying in the present was put to the test.

And I failed, more often than not. Lately I’m stuck in the past, longing for the comforts of the life we had built for ten years in Alberta: predictable, safe, reliable. Our new existence in the lower mainland is the opposite, but I know this is a temporary instability.

So I’m back to the two choices when I’m worried. Stew and obsess or hope it’s all going to work out. My fallback is always number one, but I can work at this and choose a better option for my mental health.

At the end of 2015 I picked three words to focus on for the new year: strong, clear, optimistic. I’m reminded of these now when I feel weak, muddled, hopeless. We can all do hard things. We can make it through the challenges we face on a daily basis. We can choose optimism over despair.

No matter what happens tonight with the election, I’m not going to allow it to steal any more of my peace and contentment. I’m going to love myself through the change in the U.S. government the way I must love myself through every other obstacle that arises.

It’s all going to be okay. It’s going to work out like it’s supposed to. Believing this can be challenging, but it’s preferable to the fetal position where we are too afraid to continue. Let’s put our fear aside and trust in God, the universe, goodness, ourselves.

Let’s believe that something bigger is going on here than we can piece together with our own perspective. When all of the pieces are eventually revealed, our individual lives will make more sense, to us and to others. For now what we need is optimism, teamwork and kindness. We can get through this together.

In Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships

Rekindling Hope

Julianne HarveyNovember 1, 2016Leave a comment

When hope rekindles where you once felt empty and bereft, it’s like coming alive again. It’s the first twitch in your fingers, signalling that your coma is ending and you are returning to a state of normalcy again.

These last three months have been a true slog. Unpredictable, scary, lonely, exciting and sad, all boiled up together in a stew of change.

Every day, I tell myself to be kind and gentle in order to survive a series of hurdles to my preferred stable routines, but the relief of finally being in our own space again this past week has loosened something primitive in me. I’ve become unhinged, crying at random intervals and experiencing a near-catatonic internal state as a reaction to rising panic and dread.

I felt certain that my growth work of the last few years had been tragically reversed by this provincial move. I craved the order and calm I fought so hard to establish in Alberta, but it has eluded me at every turn since we’ve arrived in BC.

When will I learn to stop being so fatalistic and permanent with my dire predictions? When I’m under extreme stress, it’s important to recognize this and love myself through it, the way I would assist a friend, my husband or my kids. Instead, I decide that the jig is up and I’ll never be happy or peaceful again.

The type of upheaval we have gone through since the summer is bound to cause disruption. It must be my coping mechanism to forecast disaster in the face of what I cannot control. This is how I made it through childhood with a mentally ill and alcoholic father and an emotionally icy mother.

I learned not to count on anything. I anticipated the worst possible outcome so that anything less felt manageable. I’ve carried this unhealthy skill into adulthood and it hangs me up from time to time.

The solution is to acknowledge what is going on and to work at changing my fearful reactions. I’m the grown-up now, responsible for two children of my own. It’s up to me to model better responses for my kids to follow.

This too shall pass. Stress is not a permanent state. I’m responsible for my own mental health. When I feel unmoored and lost, like I do now, I must slow down and make the effort to reconnect with myself. Jason and I went on a dinner date this weekend and I had serious trouble vulnerably sharing with him. I realized it was because I was so far from myself.

At least I know what the job is now. I have to turn my signs of life back into actual life. It’s time to tend to my own soul; to find my equilibrium and the peace of mind I’ve been missing. Self care is a daily practice. When it’s neglected, nothing feels right or balanced. I have hope that I can return to my previous state of mental health if I give myself some time and effort.

In Identity, Minimalism, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships, Writing

4 Essential Things

Julianne HarveyOctober 4, 2016October 3, 2016Leave a comment

I’m in love with this Minimalist Mantra, courtesy of Joshua Becker from Becoming Minimalist. In it, he suggests listing 4 essential things in your life, doing them first and stop doing the non-essential. Wise words.

Reading this mantra got me thinking about my 4 essential things. I’m sure they will be different from yours, but as every one of us strives for meaning in our short but important lives, I long to focus on these areas and hope this list will help me say yes to what matters and no to what doesn’t.

My 4 Essential Things

1. Health

I realized this summer in the hospital that my health is a necessity, not a luxury. If you are like me, you tend to go along your merry way taking your health for granted until you have a crisis. Then everything crystallizes and you see clearly how challenging it is to make any other goals happen if you are struggling to get out of bed each day. So much of this life is out of our direct control, but doing the best I can to remain healthy is under my control. I have a renewed appreciation for daily walks, eating well, light weightlifting, meditating and other forms of self care to do my best to stay healthy enough to pursue the other essential parts of my existence.

2. Family and Friends

What is all of our striving for? At the end of the day, I want my closest relationships on this earth to be meaningful. In order for that to happen, I must be vulnerable with those I love, sharing the best parts of myself as well as the worst. Life is too short to pretend. I don’t want to be afraid of being honest and authentic. I want to jump in with both feet and to offer my top energies and resources to the people I’ve committed to. Making time for the kind of friends who encourage, support and care for me is important to me. I don’t need a ton of friends; just ones that increase my joy, give me stomach pain from belly laughing, and have proved themselves reliable. My tribe makes life more fun and also comforts when trouble comes knocking. I must invest in them and allow them to invest in me.

3. Writing

Writing is like breathing to me. I often don’t know how I feel about something until I put pen to paper (or start typing on my MacBook) and then I get my “aha!” moment of clarity and light. I long to say no to everything that doesn’t involve writing and yes to everything that gets me closer to my dream of signing with an agent, having a traditional book deal, increasing the speaking I’m doing on various topics, and my longest-held goal of selling a screenplay and being a part of the film industry. Focus involves turning away from the good to concentrate on the best. This is part of my 4 essential things and something I plan to zero in on.

4. Nurture

This is a big word that covers a lot of territory. For me, it means self care first, something relatively new to me, and after this it involves caring well for others. I think I’m naturally good at this, but part of my journey of self-growth and discovery has been about setting boundaries so I can nurture more effectively without burning out or blazing with resentment and unacknowledged rage. I’m seeing encouraging progress in this area but like all self-improvement, I have more ground to cover. I’ve worked hard to reveal my soft core of compassion and unconditional love by clearing a lot of unhealthy habits out of the way, but making nurture one of my essential 4 things will help me carve out time and space for this priority.

What are your 4 essential things?

In Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships

Navigating Transition

Julianne HarveySeptember 27, 2016Leave a comment

Do you ever feel like you are swimming and swimming but you aren’t actually gaining any distance? You are simply treading water. Not drowning, so that’s positive, but not exactly setting any performance records.

What is this damn obsession I have with being impressive? Why isn’t it enough to do the best I can in my own small world for those I love without seeking a grandiose level of some invisible acclaim which probably wouldn’t make a bit of difference to me even if I did receive it?

I long to pull back the focus of my life, to go from wide lens to a smaller, more pointed perspective. When I was in the hospital last month it became easy to see what really mattered. I made a set of decisions then to let go of the stupid, piddly shit that hangs me up on the regular.

But now life is back to normal and those niggling insecurities are creeping back. I am aware of them, which is a healthy sign, but I hate wasting any energy on them when I feel like I settled this issue while at my worst in an uncomfortable hospital bed.

As a family, we are in the midst of of big life transition as we move from one province to another. It’s messy, uncertain, wonderful and frustrating as hell. For the most part, the kids have both excelled, managing a ton of upheaval with grace and good humour.

I’ve done well too, provided I don’t creep the performance bar ever higher for myself. When that starts to happen, I’m sunk. Gentleness is the key here. The goal is to enjoy life. To laugh and to build in time to rest. To work, steadily and slowly, without expecting fireworks every day. To show up. To be patient.

Transition is challenging. It requires a lot from us. Managing my own expectations is a full-time endeavour. I have to remember that I’m likely doing better than I think I am. It’s not as fucking difficult as I make it out to be.

So we continue. One foot in front of the other. The sun sets and rises the next morning, offering us yet another chance to learn what we can from the unique journey we are on. Process takes a lot of time. The seeds don’t bloom unless they are tended, and flowers never appear overnight. We have no choice but to struggle through the hard times to make it to the easier ones.