Nurture Archives - Page 24 of 27

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.

In Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Spiritual Life

Endurance

Julianne HarveySeptember 20, 2016September 19, 2016Leave a comment

Most of us endure because we have to, not because we want to. As humans, we are incredibly resilient beings. We can gut it out when we are under duress and make it through to an easier stage, mostly because there is simply no other choice.

I’m working on not complaining as much these days. Life is hard for everyone. My pain is not different from your pain. It all hurts. When it sucks, it really sucks, but the good news is that we are all in it together.

To endure is to weather hardship in a dignified manner. Moaning and bitching about elements out of our direct control is a waste of energy and it reduces our ability to feel strong and capable. When I think about the people I most admire in the world, those who make it through turbulent periods with grace and poise are among my greatest heroes.

It’s just damn hard to do it myself. But I’m getting there, inch by inch. I can endure the worst circumstances and so can you. So much of what ails us is in our own minds. If we believe we can survive and eventually thrive, we will. If we sink into self pity and compare our suffering to someone else’s, we are moving further from dignity and can benefit from a course correction.

One of the biggest cliches is “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” But it’s so very true. We don’t grow in the easy seasons. Those are for resting and gearing up for the inevitable freight train that’s on its way to disrupt our orderly existence.

The hard shit reveals who we are, for better or for worse. It proves to us our own strength and highlights our weaknesses, not so we feel ashamed but so we become conscious of them and can begin to work on these troublesome areas.

I am determined to stop focusing on petty garbage that doesn’t add any value to my life. I’m trying to move in the direction of peace and joy by veering away from stress and drama. I proved to myself this summer that I can do unimaginably hard and scary things. And I can do more than just make it through them, but I can in fact endure with a certain element of dignity.

I used to waste so much time seeking approval from others for my choices, my words, my imagined legacy. It feels fantastic to pull that back from society in general and sit on it myself, like a hen keeping her vulnerable baby chicks warm when the air turns cold.

Now is the time to endure with as much grace as we can muster. If the sun is shining and the birds are singing for you, enjoy this day. Soak up the warmth for one day soon it will rain or snow and you will need to summon resources of strength from deep inside of you to make it through.

And if you are enduring something awful or scary now, remember that this too shall pass. You always have a choice. You can complain about how unfair all of it is, or you can endure with a smile nailed on your face. Think ahead to when the crisis is finished. How will you want to remember this time? How did you react when that was the only part of the situation that you could control?

In Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth

Planting Seeds for Confident Kids

Julianne HarveySeptember 12, 2016September 12, 2016Leave a comment

Last week, my kids started at new schools. This summer, we moved to BC with the vision for a fresh start for all of us. Life is short, the world is big, and we don’t like to stay in the same place for too long.

I knew that both Ava and William would be fine, but the only way to be sure is to jump in and experience it for yourself. They’ve attended the same schools their entire life to this point, in small-town Alberta, so this would certainly be a different experience.

William’s school has about 200 more kids in it, but Ava’s new high school has 1900 students compared to around 350 where she attended before this. That’s a massive change, but we could see that she was ready for it.

It’s healthy to challenge ourselves by embracing a change. New experiences offer us a reboot; a chance to rebrand how we are with other people. It’s so hard and yet so good at the same time.

I’ve enjoyed watching both of my kids flourish in separate ways this past week. They have proved something to themselves. Pushing through our anxious butterflies is what moves us to the next level in our growth. Without a bit of external pressure, it’s far too easy to remain complacent and comfortable, a state that eventually leads to boredom.

My job now, as the parent of a ten year old and a thirteen year old, is to transition from hands-on mother to cheerleading coach. Our kids have to take the reins of their own life. They must be free to make their mistakes and celebrate their triumphs. This world can be a ridiculously scary place but it’s equally full of joy and beauty.

We cannot shield them from it. Our task is to walk alongside as they experience every type of emotion, serving as their tour guide to life by explaining our own journeys as a light for them to navigate theirs.

They don’t have to follow in our exact footsteps. What was right for us might be wrong for them. Our kids need our support, experience and ideas. They don’t need us to intervene, protect or to make their decisions and bear their consequences. This is how children learn (and adults too).

I’ve loved this past week. Watching Ava and William bloom into their new environments has inspired a surge of gratitude in me for the early work we did as parents. Confidence and resilience are not traits you can summon by snapping your fingers. They are seeds that grow over years of careful tending and watering. When you pay attention to that, eventually you see the most incredible and exciting results.

In Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships

Intentional Vulnerability

Julianne HarveySeptember 6, 2016Leave a comment

I was twitchy all day Saturday because Jason and I had scheduled a date to “reconnect”. This meant intentional vulnerability, a state many of us love when it’s over and fear before it begins.

Sharing our soul openly with another person is an act of sheer courage. What we say can be misconstrued, rejected, lost in the other person’s point of view or belief system. Even when we sit down for an enchilada dinner with the person we love most in the world, practicing intentional vulnerability is a risky proposition.

I’m happy to say it went remarkably well. I shed a few tears, asked him to keep driving when we arrived at the restaurant because I was in full flow (and it’s easier to pour out my heart when I’m not making direct eye contact), said more than I had rehearsed but somehow it was better that way.

We’ve had a turbulent summer. New job for Jason, appendix rupture for me, far more question marks than exclamation points when it comes to where we will live and how we will solve a host of complicated problems. At the end of the day, none of that matters as much as who we are in our relationship together.

Are we kind to one another or do we take our stress out on each other? Are we considerate of what the other person needs or are we lost in our own sense of entitlement? Do we compete for who has it the worst or do we support each other in the hardest moments?

The answer, of course, is somewhere in between these extremes. To be married is to be in a constant state of flux. When one of us is calm, the other is tense. When one is confident, the other is a mess. It’s a seesaw where we do our best to balance out each other.

Jason has proven, again and again, that he is trustworthy when I open my heart to him, but every time I still feel afraid. Vulnerability is a powerful force to unite people when it works, but when it fails it feels terribly isolating and scary.

By the end of our delicious Mexican meal, we both felt closer, happier, more united. We want this season of struggle to mean something. We prefer to allow it to change us, from the inside out, so we are different as a result. Neither of us want to return to normal life without acknowledging that a significant shift has occurred.

Every time intentional vulnerability works the way it’s meant to, I’m a convert all over again. I long to grow all of my relationships in this way, but vulnerability is a two-way street. Both people have to buy in to this soul-to-soul spark.

If you tend to hold back, find a safe person and give it a try. Let yourself truly be seen for who you really are. Bring up your big fears, regrets, pain. If the other person proves worthy of this gift, you will experience a true connection that will go far above and beyond anything that skims along the surface and you’ll see how valuable intentional vulnerability can be.

In Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships, Writing

Liminal Space

Julianne HarveyAugust 30, 2016August 29, 2016Leave a comment

Do you ever have trouble finding the words for the big conversations? You know, the ones where you long to communicate some deep truth, pulled from the centre of your being with a huge effort, where it feels like you are standing completely naked in front of the other person?

I’m struggling with this. I feel so utterly changed by the last four weeks of my life, but yet unable to properly talk about it with those I love most. I’ve turtled up inside, processing and going dark to the outside world.

This is likely a necessary step, and healthy, but it’s also a tiny bit isolating. It creates a gap between you and the people in your life. I know I have the right to say I’m not ready to talk about things, and this might be the best solution until I feel more sure of what it is I want to say, but the big conversations in life always leave me slightly terrified.

So much of our existence is regular routine. Only when it’s disrupted do we see things in a new way. And we realize that we are also irrevocably altered.

I learned this phrase from Rob Bell’s recent podcast on Seasons (and if you aren’t listening to all of Rob Bell’s podcasts, please rectify this immediately as they will immensely improve your quality of life): liminal space. It means the middle space; when one stage is completed and the next has yet to begin.

I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear the phrase “liminal space”. I love it and plan to overuse it from this point forward. It explains so much of that waiting bit at the centre of big change. It’s transition, uncertainty, fear, loss, excitement. You know you don’t want to go back but you can’t quite move forward as the next chapter hasn’t revealed itself.

Perhaps it’s not a good idea to commit to much in the liminal space. It’s for waiting and growing and shifting. It requires an openness to what will now be different. We can’t forecast what the next season will look like while we are still moving through the loss of what came before. We simply have to wait.

Have I mentioned that I hate waiting? This appendectomy and its long, slow crawl back to my previous healthy state has invited me every single day to be patient. To stop accomplishing and just sit in my new and tired state in my comfy shorts that don’t hurt my stitches. The whole world seems different as a result. It may still be whizzing by, along with everyone around me, but I am in a separate place and I can’t keep up. Nor do I really want to.

I do feel marked in some invisible way. I can see it, but no one else really can. I guess the prescription is more waiting. I must allow this growth to bud in its own time. There is no point to rushing it or shouting something from the rooftops that I barely understand for myself. Some things should be private, particularly in the liminal space.

If you are in a transition point right now, let’s wait it out together. We can reassure each other that we won’t be in this middle space forever. The new season will begin to take shape. We will survive the transition. We have the ability to let go of the last place where we were either happy or sad (or more likely a mix of both). It will simply take a little bit of time. Sit with me in the garden and we’ll encourage each other through this liminal space.