Personal Growth Archives - Page 11 of 33

In Books, Culture, Identity, Minimalism, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships, Speaking, Writing

An Ordinary Life

Julianne HarveyApril 10, 2018

Lately I find myself longing for an ordinary life.

On any given day, we all face so much pressure to be extraordinary. Social media scrolling can give us a case of the “less-thans”, the news entices us to drink, the job market feels hopeless and we wonder if we are doing enough to stand out from the crowd and be noticed.

It’s bloody exhausting.

I just finished reading Mark Manson’s book The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck. So many of his ideas resonated on a deep level, offering a lovely echo chamber of my own curated thoughts, but the section on being ordinary was particularly timely. If you are looking for a short, profane and meaningful read, I highly recommend it.

What if we simply opted out of trying to be amazing and instead learned to be content with being good enough? As our world gets louder, I long for quiet. When other people broadcast their accomplishments around the clock on social media, I yearn for humility and privacy.

It’s okay to want less. To decide that who you are and what you accomplish doesn’t need national (or even local) acclaim. Wouldn’t it be lovely to just exist, in our own families and with our friends, and truly believe that everything we eat, say, do, watch, read and think does not belong on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter or a blog?

Something interesting is happening in our culture right now, with the attention on Zuckerberg and questions about privacy. For years I’ve been saying in my digital boundary presentation (and to anyone else who cares) that privacy is going to be our most valuable currency in the years to come. I believe it to the core of my soul.

So the question becomes: what are we doing to safeguard our own privacy? How do we take back control of our own unique and precious lives?

I’m bone weary of wasting my time on the crack cocaine of social media. I post less and less but I still scroll far too much. I’m afraid of what’s coming and I’m trying to summon the courage to close it down and walk away. I know I would be happier if I did exactly that but then how would I stay in touch with people? How would readers find me as a writer?

I’m not sure those fears outweigh the cost of what social media has done to my sense of identity, my jealousy over the success of others when I am struggling, my own raging insecurities that leap to the forefront when I give myself over to something that has the power to repeatedly hurt me.

The answer is not yet clear to me, but I’m committed to asking these questions until I decide what’s really best for me. How do the rest of you handle social media and your digital lives? I know I’m not alone in longing for an ordinary, private existence. I’d love to hear from you.

In Books, Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Speaking, Writing

The Flashlight of Criticism

Julianne HarveyMarch 29, 2018

When we face criticism, we can spiral down in a funnel of shame, feeling less-than and outed for pretending to be better than we really are.

Or maybe that’s just me, because possibly my childhood was not as stellar as yours.

I know it’s unhealthy to attach my self-worth to my performance. These things are my products: writing, speaking, acting, grades; my identity is something different. This distinction is oh-so-clear in my head and not so obvious in my experience.

Everything in the arts is subjective. One person loves what you’ve written or taught, and the next person thinks it’s boring and useless. As a writer, I’ve volunteered to be criticized to try to make my work stronger and more effective. In a cold, clinical setting, I do understand this.

But in my heart it’s something different. Being told what is “wrong” with my manuscript is painful in some intricate way. It reminds me of how far I have yet to go to make my dreams into reality. I do realize that all writers face this. I’ve been through classes and writers’ groups before, processing negative feedback, but I still hurt at first.

Maybe it’s time to just allow this. To feel it, and not to attempt to rationalize it away or explain it. Some feedback wounds because we have more internal healing work to do. The criticism is a flashlight revealing our hidden chasms where shame and fear lurk in the darkness.

The key might be to reach out to the cheerleaders in our lives when we get knocked down. To ask for love and support so we can summon the energy to keep going, to continue believing that we are onto something as long as we don’t quit. Rough work is better than no work when it comes to creativity. Revisions exist to fix the little things.

I’m loving the process of working on this new YA novel. I don’t want to forget that. It’s fun to write, even if it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. It’s the book I longed to find on the shelf when I was 15 years old and that kind of passion is worth pursuing.

Often a pain that doesn’t fit with the circumstances is an indication that an old wound is being disturbed. That’s what I felt last week through a workshop round of mild criticism: a very old childhood fear that I am simply not good enough to compete in the arena I want to work in. The only way to combat this is to keep going anyway. To feel it, acknowledge it, cry a few tears, and then get back to work.

In Identity, Personal Growth, Speaking, University, Writing

Measuring Improvement

Julianne HarveyMarch 14, 2018

Measuring improvement can be challenging because it happens so slowly. But when it’s occurring in a compressed period of time, say a spring semester of university, it’s more dramatic and obvious.

I’m almost finished my two classes this term and it’s interesting to look back and see how I’ve grown and changed in both of them. My favourite class by far is Young Adult Fiction in the Creative Writing department. I’ve learned so much from my professor, the KidLit textbook and my fellow students, inquisitive budding writers who are a pleasure to spend three hours with on a Monday morning.

Then there’s my English class. It’s a first year prerequisite that every student must take, and I’m the only mature student there. Monday afternoons I’m surrounded by eighteen year olds, several of whom have strong opinions on life that are diametrically opposed to mine. It makes for interesting debate but my blood has boiled on more than one occasion.

Returning to university in the fall was daunting, but the first Creative Writing class I took was a beautiful boost to my confidence (and the A+ grade I received didn’t hurt either). My YA class is a similar experience this semester, but English has knocked me down a few pegs when it comes to my grades and my abilities.

When I come home whining about another B+ after I put so much time into an assignment or an in-class writing exercise, Jason laughs and says, “This is good for you.” I routinely tell my kids that we can’t be experts at everything and often in life we have to settle for being “good enough.” It turns out I suck at taking my own amazing advice.

Yesterday I had to hand in my second paper of three in this English class. I put many hours into this thing and I know it’s the best work I can do at this point when it comes to thesis statements, topic sentences, and formal structured academic writing. I haven’t done this kind of thing in twenty-six years and I’m definitely rusty. I think I’ve improved over the course of the semester but I won’t know until I receive my grade.

The best way I have to measure my own improvement is the difference in my attitude. I’m not angry anymore that I didn’t get a string of A’s in this class like I wanted. I’m getting the marks that are suitable for my skills at this point. As Brene Brown teaches us, we have to make peace with the messy middle. When we learn something new, we fumble around in the dark for a long while before we get any semblance of capability for the task.

I don’t have a ton of patience for my own learning journey. I want to leapfrog ahead over the awkward, uncomfortable bits, even though I spent the month of February teaching conference sessions about the value of risk-taking, going straight into the hard stuff, and modelling vulnerability and authenticity. Sigh. Ain’t it great to be human and get so many chances to practice this shit?

We are all improving, every day, but the changes tend to be so minuscule that they become hard to measure. I know I’m a stronger and more capable writer because I’m back in university. I can feel it and see it demonstrated in the work I’m creating. But I’m definitely not good at everything.

When we learn new skills, floundering comes with the territory. The only way to push through that to the golden sunrise of accomplishment is to be patient, not to quit, and in my case, to accept my B+ with pride instead of frustration.

In Culture, Identity, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships

Feminism Means Equality

Julianne HarveyFebruary 20, 2018

I had this exchange in one of my university classes this week:

Young Man: I am NOT a feminist.

Me: Do you believe in equality for men and women?

Young Man: Yes, of course, but I’m NOT a feminist.

The definition of feminism is as follows:

The doctrine advocating social, political and all other rights of women equal to those of men.

It’s not burning bras, hating on men, trying to raise women above men, or shaving your head and ranting in the town square. Feminism is equality. That’s it. Full stop. And when eighteen-year-old men become angry at the idea of calling themselves feminists, in an era where equality is being discussed everywhere you go, I become dejected and overwhelmed.

These conversations matter. Clearly, the word “feminism” carries a charge and men are afraid to be associated with it. I can’t fix this and I’m not interested in fixing it. But the word itself means equal rights for both genders and I will continue to bring this up until it becomes more widely understood.

My lovely professor approached me after class to talk about the exchange and to thank me for not escalating it. She said, “I’m really glad you spoke up to define the word ‘feminism’, even if he did appear to be upset over it.” She wanted to be sure I felt supported. I did. Support was not the issue. Having a discussion about a word where the person agrees with the concept but not the word we use for it makes me want to bang my head on a table until it bleeds.

Do we need a new word for feminism? I asked some young women in my next class this question and they said, “No. If women come up with a new word so men won’t be uncomfortable with it, the men will find a problem with the new word, too.” Fair point.

At the dinner table after my classes, I asked my eleven-year-old son William if he considers himself a feminist. He said, “Yes.” (To which Ava replied, “Of course he is. Growing up in this house, what else could he be?”). Then I asked Jason the same question and he also answered, “Yes.” When pressed on what this means, both of them said some version of equality.

Let’s have more of these discussions, equating the word “feminism” to the word “equality” as they are one and the same. You can’t say you believe in equality but you don’t believe in feminism. I know that the term can be loaded for people, I do understand that, but then let’s bring it back to the definition. If you are a man who doesn’t call himself a feminist, please consider how hard a woman has to work to even get you to understand the importance of equality, let alone fighting over the words we are using.

The road to equal rights is long and arduous. If every person helps, even just a little, we’ll move closer to the goal of a fairer and more generous world for every person. A rising tide lifts all boats and language matters. I thought this was easier for young people, but after my experience this week, I’m not so sure. As a culture, we still have a ton of work to do to close this gender gap.

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

Content

Julianne HarveyFebruary 14, 2018

It’s no small thing to be content. To stop pursuing happiness in order to recognize, just for a moment, that you are already happy.

Everyone’s life is made up of seasons. Some are sweet, and others are agony. One month can feel like a year, slogging through shoulder-high mud, and the next can fly by in a blur of ordinary days. And yet some seasons are special in undefined ways, where we are lucky enough to see that it’s all going to plan and we laugh quite a bit and our days and nights are mostly smooth sailing.

I feel like we’re in one of those sweet seasons right now. We are out of the demanding little-kid stage and the teenaged years have not brought the promised wreckage others predicted in doomsday tones. We enjoy spending time with our kids and I love seeing the daily fruit of our number one parenting motto: Don’t Be An Asshole.

To me, contentment means not longing for something other than what you have. It’s taken me a long time to get to this point, with practices like daily meditation to help me stay anchored in the present moment along with careful boundaries in my relationships making a big difference to my calm state of being.

Some of this is just a decision. My pursuit of happiness was never-ending and exhausting, so I decided to simply be happy instead. To want less instead of having more. To go simpler when the rest of the world is complex. To create beauty inside of myself and cultivate it so that it blooms. To need less from other people and ask for more from myself.

It’s really damn good. We are capable of so much more than we think. When we push past fear, a whole new existence is on the other side. For a lifelong people-pleaser, to truly not care what others think of me or my parenting or my friendship choices or my work or my weight or my fashion is unbelievably liberating. It’s a kind of freedom I couldn’t have conceived of a decade ago. And now I’m living it and not interested in asking for anyone’s permission or approval.

When we can live as ourselves in a world that works hard to get us to be something inauthentic, we have traveled a great distance toward contentment. Anything that takes you further from your intuitive self and invites negative energy into your safe space can be abandoned. I’m learning not to put myself in so many uncomfortable situations. Life is precious and important and sacred. I make my decisions with that in mind now.

Trying to make other people happy is a dead-end road. It’s not a good goal. Figure out what you need, first and foremost, and design your life around that. The people you love most will benefit indirectly from your contentment and healthy choices. Simplify wherever possible. Your time and energy is valuable. Don’t spend it on people who give nothing back to you but stress and frustration. You simply do not have to live that way. All you need is the word “no” and you’ll be free.

Contentment is a worthy goal. Invest in whatever gets you closer. If you are moving further away, look at your decisions and see where you went wrong. And it’s okay if not everyone is happy with you, as long as you are happy yourself.