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In Books, Culture, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships, Writing

Your Little Corner

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
Your Little Corner

I honestly don’t know what to say anymore. People are being slaughtered weekly with assault rifles in our neighbour to the south and those in power have zero interest in doing anything about it. The president lies, every single day, and on top of that makes racist, misogynist and offensive comments and faces no real consequences for any of it.

My rage is on a slow boil and has been for a long time, but it’s wearing me down. I feel bruised, deep in my soul, and hopeless that nothing is changing. This is not the world I want my kids to grow up in, but I can’t fix these massive problems.

What I can do is focus on my own little corner. You have one too. The people and the pets and the hobbies that you love reside here. You can look after them (and this includes your own beautiful self). You can grow a flower or bake a delicious cake. You can watch a movie or a TV show that helps you escape the horror of the world or gently ushers you toward a fresh outlook. You can read a book that has the power to transform you.

I’ve been making my way through Hillary Clinton’s book, What Happened, and as excellent as it is, I had to stop reading for a bit as what could have been was simply too raw. (Side note: If you don’t like HRC, you are welcome to your opinion, but I don’t want to hear it right now. She is being unfairly bashed online constantly and I’m not allowing that nonsense on my watch).

For a break from real-world pain, I picked up a People magazine borrowed from the library and put it down immediately after reading the headline “Taking Down a Hollywood Predator” with Harvey Weinstein’s mug front and centre. No thanks. More suffering in the form of patriarchy gone wild with power and abuse. I needed something else to inch back toward hope in humankind.

Thankfully, the brilliant Celeste Ng’s newest novel, Little Fires Everywhere, was in for me on the hold shelf. I raced to the library to get it, having just finished her debut, Everything I Never Told You, which broke my heart but in such a healing and redemptive manner. If you haven’t read Celeste Ng, please put these two books at the top of your TBR pile. Her talent is awe-inspiring.

This brings me back to my little corner. I’m finding it really, really, really challenging to write blogs right now. Everything I want to say is too raw and unfiltered – too brutal for human consumption. I start to type it and I can’t get it to sound right. So I backpedal and feel like I’ve failed. I know I’m not adding anything meaningful to the conversation. But maybe that’s okay. Perhaps what I’m meant to do in this god-awful time is just to say, “I’m here too. I’m hurting, just like you. Let’s look after ourselves and our loved ones.”

Anne Lamott tells a story in one of her books about planting a certain type of tulip that only blooms for a few days each spring. She was complaining to a friend about it, saying, “What is the point of all that work to only enjoy the flowers for 4 or 5 days?” Her friend’s answer? “The point is those 4 or 5 days.”

I’d like that lesson to patch up my hope so I can keep going. It doesn’t seem like enough. But when it’s all we have, perhaps that will have to do. I’m going to tend to my little corner while you tend to yours. Maybe, just maybe, it will temporarily brighten up the world and help us find the solutions we need for harmony, peace and optimism again.

In Culture, Identity, Minimalism, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth

Letting Go

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
Letting Go

Ava went to a 3 day leadership retreat with her school this week. It was for the student government to plan events for the upcoming school year. She brought the paper home the first week of classes, her face alight with enthusiasm, and I felt, for a single moment, as though I was looking into the future with her away more than she’s at home.

It was both wonderful and sad, all at the same time (doesn’t that describe a lot of parenting experiences?). Our children grow up and away from us. Over time, we get lulled into a certain type of normalcy, with them coming and going, laughing, making messes, driving us up the wall. Then you begin to  realize that quite soon, they will fly from our nests and begin their own adventures.

I get weary when I hear parents complaining about how much they miss the good old days when their kids were babies. This is not a post about that, for I don’t pine for that bygone era. Our kids are meant to grow older and more interesting and become who they really are. This process is fascinating and stimulating and I have no interest in holding it back.

But it does go by fast. If we do the work of parenting correctly, we are to take a dependent baby and turn that baby into an independent adult. This is the job posting every one of us signed up for when we chose to have children. Some days I find it easy to enjoy the fruit of my labours as a mom when I watch my son and daughter navigating the world on their own. Occasionally I feel as if I’m preparing them well for the rigours of our modern society.

Then there are the other days. The ones where I realize that in four short years Ava will be ready to start university. In two years she will be driving (our Alberta friends can see their teens driving now at fourteen but no such luck for Ava in BC). In grade nine there will likely be invitations to parties and events where we will need to practice, as parents, setting reasonable boundaries for her and then letting go and trusting that she will be safe.

At a certain point, we must trust our precious kids to make their own decisions. This is the preparation they need to be able to succeed in life. To bounce back from hardship, they first must experience hardship. We cannot protect them forever. We should not be protecting them forever.

So much of the job of parenting involves getting out of the way. Moving past our fear and believing that we’ve laid the groundwork for our children to discern right from wrong, to lead instead of follow, to learn from their mistakes.

I am incredibly proud of our fourteen-year-old daughter. She texted a few times from the retreat, happy updates about winning a game of Manhunt in the dark and the pouring rain by hiding in the brambles and dirt, eating pizza for lunch, staying up late chatting with her roommates from older grades.

I remember these types of things from my teen years. They are a rite of passage from childhood to adulthood. We want to support Ava in these adventures and experiences, but it does help to talk openly about what it feels like to be the parent instead of the child.

How do you practice letting go of your kids as they move toward independence and adulthood?

In Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Relationships, Uncategorized

Back to School

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
Back to School

Can you hear that sound? It’s silence, the kind that falls after parents have ushered their beloved offspring to a new year of school (well, you might hear cheering from some and weeping from others – both moms and kids – but here the biggest joy of all is the QUIET).

Other years, when my kids were smaller, I used to feel a bit melancholy on their first day. I would get so used to them being home over the long days of summer that I would miss them for the first week.

Now that Ava is grade nine and William is grade six it’s a different experience. They need to return to structure and see their friends. Both of them require challenges, apart from staring at inane Youtube videos all day long. My kids may have mixed feelings about going back to school, but I can see how necessary it is for them.

As our children get older, things change. For Ava, who has four years left of high school before embarking on her own life away from us, these precious last years under our roof take on a fresh significance. She is supposed to grow in independence and begin constructing an identity outside of our family and it’s important for us to support her in this quest.

We have good friends who just said goodbye to both of their university-age daughters. They are now officially empty-nesters. I’ve been texting with my friend about this process and I know it will be here all-too-soon for us as well. The key is to be present and to notice the stage that is happening right now, but also to transition into a more hands-off parenting style so we are all able to celebrate the coming separation instead of fighting it or mourning it.

William is in that in-between age of eleven. He’s not quite ready for the angst of the teen years but also not really a child. It’s a delicate stage, where one foot is on each side of a divide. He longs to be older but also wants to remain young and safe. We are working on encouraging him to step out of his comfort zone and to take more risks. School helps with this.

Every parent-child relationship is different and will require planning and strategy in order to find success. The beginning of September can be a particularly raw time. It’s exciting in one sense and scary in another.

As parents, we get to practice letting go of our children once again. This is their time: to make new friends, to cry and have their feelings hurt, to take risks and soar, to be embarrassed, to learn that if the first five experiments fail you can keep trying until you get where you want to go.

Happy back to school season to all parents and kids. May it be a marvellous year of discovery, compassion, fun and important life lessons learned.

In Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Speaking

Autumn

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
Autumn

Well, here we are again at the end of summer looking towards autumn. I feel melancholy when transitions are upon us. I’m learning not to sweat this, but instead to allow it to have its way, for this is the process of change.

Ushering in a new season reminds us that nothing in this life stays the same for long. Perhaps this understanding is at the root of the sadness I feel. We cannot hold on, no matter how sweet the experience has been. We have no choice but to allow it to pass, to learn what we can from it and then give ourselves permission to move on. Anything else holds us back.

This fall Jason has a new job, I will be returning to university and increasing my hours as a speaker and background actor in film and TV, Ava will be starting grade nine and William is moving on to grade six. September tends to be a time to embrace new adventures, which is probably why I have a love/hate relationship with it.

Deep down, I know that I am capable of handling whatever is coming next. And I have no doubt that my husband and my children will be fine, too. And whatever you are facing, dear reader, I believe that your abilities will rise to greet the challenges in front of you.

I think it’s just the actual transition that really sucks. It’s hard, plain and simple, the process of moving from one known stage into an unknown one. We can only envision and imagine for so long. Eventually, the calendar page is turned and we must leap, with our best foot forward, into the next adventure. I hate the waiting, but it’s all part of the process.

Autumn is nearly here, with its cool breezes, return to sweaters, pumpkin spice lattes, crisp leaves, school buses, apple pies and other delights. I find it difficult to let go of this summer, because it has been so peaceful and happy compared to the chaos of last year. My natural inclination is to hang on, to remain where I am safe and secure, to refuse to press on.

Life is a long march forward. To stagnate is to eventually die. We must all challenge ourselves by boldly facing up to our fears and limiting beliefs. We only grow when we are challenged. Resting is a divine blessing and an important one, but if we are in leisure mode forever we’ll never achieve anything. The healthy balance to strive for is a teeter-totter of activity/stillness, people/solitude, challenge/security.

Fall is a prime opportunity to re-examine our boundaries, priorities and the way we spend our precious resources. Are we being invited to attempt something new? Will we need to sacrifice an item on our schedule to make room for another person or experience?

It’s normal to feel lost at the point of transition. It’s nothing we need to fix. If we let this sadness have its way, with a little luck it will pass right through us, opening the door to the next season, ripe with adventure and promise.

In Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships

Lessons Learned from my Appendix Rupture

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
Lessons Learned from my Appendix Rupture

One year ago my appendix ruptured and my whole life changed.

With the most significant events and milestones in our lives, we need time to truly understand and appreciate how these tragedies define and alter us. My surgery and complicated eight-day recovery in the hospital taught me the beautiful art of surrender. I had the chance to practice letting go of what I wanted in order to embrace what was actually happening.

This deliberate act of remaining present has changed the trajectory of my last year. It taught me to recognize what really matters to me and to stop stressing over the little annoying parts of daily existence.

Measured from August to August, we’ve had massive upheaval as a family. We sold a house in Alberta and bought a townhouse in BC. Jason started a new job. We lived with my in-laws for two months. Ava and William changed schools and left their friends behind. Nearly everything looks different a year later.

But it’s my internal changes that have shocked me the most. Fundamentally, I am different. The specific insecurities and fears that I have wrestled with forever have been sublimated and conquered. Surviving those long, lonely days in the hospital when I was getting worse and not better showed me what I’m truly made of. I proved something to myself that I couldn’t talk myself into; I had to live it out, minute by minute, under adverse circumstances in order to put this worthiness garbage to bed once and for all.

I didn’t get a choice about how sick I was last summer and how shitty the timing was, with Jason working in BC and most of my friends out of town for the August long weekend. But I can honestly say, one year later, just how grateful I am for what I learned in that dark corner bed at the Peter Lougheed Hospital in Calgary.

Deciding not to feel less-than and unworthy of love any more was lesson number one. Recognizing that Jason, Ava and William are the most important people in my life was lesson number two. And finally seeing that I am capable and strong was lesson number three.

Each of these lessons has drastically improved the daily quality of my life. I’m no longer lost in a fog of longing for what I do not have or regret for what I cannot go back and change. Now I’m choosing to stay present, with those I love and with the exciting possibilities present in each day I’m alive, knowing that I am enough for any challenge or setback that comes my way.

This confidence is foreign and yet so welcome and inspiring. I am enough. And so are you. 

Living as if anything else is true is to waste precious time. Let’s stop doing that. It’s as simple as making a decision. Decide what is most important to you, who is most important to you, and know that you are competent for any task that comes your way. It’s life changing.