Personal Growth Archives - Page 21 of 33

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 Minimalism, Nurture, Personal Growth

The Dark Side of Change

Julianne HarveyOctober 25, 2016Leave a comment

The dark side of change happens just after the initial excitement dies down. Now you are in the middle of something foreign and strange, without the usual familiar landmarks.

I hate this part of the process. It’s necessary and cannot be avoided, but it’s also unsettling and awkward. I end up declaring that I’ve made a huge mistake, but then I realize that once again I’ve confused unfamiliarity with disaster.

Change is messy. It’s frustrating and awful and glorious, all at the same damn time. The only way I know to get through to the transformation is to trudge through the mud of the frightening middle. No shortcuts exist when we are trying to jumpstart our lives.

We moved this past weekend into our townhouse. As a family, we’ve embraced the ideals of minimalism, but I’ve discovered that it’s one thing to believe in a philosophy and another thing to put it into practice.

Downsizing from a five-bedroom home into a much-smaller three-bedroom townhouse is bloody hard. What looked sleek and clean after minimizing in my big house now appears cluttered and overstuffed in my new space, even after getting rid of lots of our possessions.

I hit several metaphorical walls as we moved in (not to mention literal ones when attempting to bring boxsprings up narrow staircases). I began longing for my big and comfortable house where I knew every inch of the space I had. I craved the familiar, the simple, the stress-free. I cried, a lot. I felt afraid that this move was never going to work and wondered if we could unpick everything that brought us to this point.

Sleep and time are two wonder cures for the exhausted mind and body. My instinct is often to rush, to unpack everything in a single day, to paint every room on all three floors instead of taking it wall by wall. I have trouble celebrating the progress that I make when there are still so many problem areas to solve.

Big change is not easy. If it were straightforward, everyone would be doing it. A provincial move is a stressful experience. The best we can do is be patient and gentle with ourselves while in the midst of so much uncertainty.

Everything we do involves both loss and gain. We say goodbye so that we can now say hello. We cry over what is gone but then we smile when we consider what is ahead. Just because it’s unfamiliar doesn’t mean it’s bad. It’s just not what we know, at least not yet.

I must give this move time. I cannot set the bar so high in terms of what I can get done in a day, a week or even an hour. Process is slow and messy and unpredictable. It’s okay to feel lost and unsure. This is part of being alive. Frailty and grief come with the package deal that is humanity.

When I’m overwhelmed, I will slow down. I will remind myself to breathe. To unclench and surrender to what I cannot possibly see coming. I’ll pet my cats and watch them sleep, for this is a spiritual practice.

The only way to get through the dark side of change is to soldier on. To laugh when the opportunities present themselves. To celebrate using weapons like sparkling wine and Halloween chocolate. To be when I feel more comfortable with the word “do”. To anticipate that some days are simply going to be hard as we make our way through big life transitions.

In Minimalism, Nurture, Personal Growth

Saying Goodbye

Julianne HarveyOctober 12, 2016Leave a comment

We returned to Alberta on Thanksgiving weekend to pack up our house and say goodbye to the satisfying life we had built there over the last decade.

Closing chapters is never easy. Mixed feelings always seem to accompany change. We are all excited about a new adventure in the south surrey area of BC, but packing up our house and getting it ready for the family that bought it meant a ton of tears.

I loved my house. We moved there when Ava was three and William just seven months old. They grew from babies and toddlers into the kids they are today in that hallowed space. Every room held memories, laughs, change, despair and growth.

When I reflect upon those years, I realize how different I am at the end of them compared to the beginning. I went through profound changes while in counselling six years ago. I got to practice being who I really am instead of contorting to fit everyone else’s perceived expectations on me. I walked away from people pleasing and a whole lot of destructive relationships. I stopped being so earnestly good and instead looked for a variety of ways to free myself from excess noise, possessions, busyness and stress.

Our lives are made up of beauty and loss. We can’t move on properly to the next stage if we refuse to leave the current one, but the actual transition is unsettling. I’ve come to expect this when I’m moving into something new, but it never seems to get easier. The throat gets tight, the tears itch at the back of my eyes, I realize I’m tense and snapping at everyone because I’m so sad and I don’t know quite what to do with those big feelings.

The only way out is through. Skirting or minimizing only prolongs the pain. If we don’t acknowledge it and feel it when it’s fresh, the sadness becomes trapped and messes with our future happiness.

Saying goodbye properly is a skill. It requires attention and care. We must mark the occasion in some significant way. I had a good cry with both of my kids as we remembered specific things from our ten years of living in our house. It was important and holy work, sitting on the carpet in an empty room and telling stories.

Accepting that it hurts helps us to let it go and move on to what’s next. Life is meant to be experienced in all of its forms. I am tired of living small and afraid. The world is a big place and I long to get out there into it. I want more adventures and fewer possessions. I yearn for freedom to be my true self, to explore, to discover, to love better and wider, to go bravely inward as I travel on my own unique path.

How do you say goodbye when a stage is finished in your life? Do you avoid it or embrace it?

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.