Personal Growth Archives - Page 30 of 33

In Identity, Personal Growth, Relationships, Speaking, Writing

Why I Need a Mentor

Julianne HarveyNovember 10, 2015November 9, 2015Leave a comment

I have a kick-ass mentor. I say this because she is amazing, but also because she metaphorically delivers a swift kick to my rear when I am in need of it.

We have lunch once a month, and at our November get-together I felt mopey and frustrated about a few things. She listened to me talk over our scrumptious soup, lasagna bites and red velvet cake at Canadian Brewhouse, and then she asked me several questions.

“Do you think you might be giving too much of your energy to other people’s opinions and not enough to your own abilities and intuition? Just because someone says something doesn’t make it the absolute truth. Trust yourself. Don’t give that power away to other people.”

Deep down, I knew she was right, but I still spent a few minutes arguing my reasons for why I did what I did. She listened patiently, then circled back to her point. She said, “You do best when you rely on your own abilities and interests. Maybe it’s time to take a break from what other writers are saying and doing online and simply focus on your own career path. You know what you want. Stop searching for permission from strangers or even friends. You don’t need it to keep pursuing your goals.”

Again, right on the money. This was still digesting, along with my food, when she hit me with, “How about slowing down and trying a calming practice like yoga? You’d benefit from deep breathing as a way to stop your mind from racing ahead. Live in the moment. Enjoy the journey. Don’t approach your career as a race to the finish line. Writing is supposed to be fun! Take it as it comes. Every step matters as it leads you to the next stage.”

This piece of stellar advice has been slowly sinking in over the last week. I am terrible at staying in the moment I’m living in. I can get off track far too easily. This is why my mentor is so important to my overall health. She can see when I’m veering from my true path and lovingly guide me back to the right place.

She helps me work through various sides of an issue or conflict but doesn’t hesitate to administer some tough love when required. I love it when she gently reminds me how far I’ve come and that I am capable of doing hard things. She cheerleads, at the same time as she challenges. I desperately need this. I think we all do.

A mentor is anyone a little further down the path from us. Mine has been writing, editing and speaking for seven years longer than me, so I have a lot to learn from her. And I’m constantly inspired by her authentic spirit, her ability to be herself in any situation, and her hopeful optimism. She gives me more light to live by. She tells me the tough things I need to hear to stop feeling sorry for myself and get moving in a positive direction again. She cheers, she coaches, she inspires.

If you don’t have a mentor like this in your life, I urge you to be on the lookout for one. Find someone you want to be like and spend some time in his or her company. If they will tell it to you straight, but with love, and occasionally make you snort with laughter, bravely ask that person to mentor you. I’ve had mine for four years now, and my life is better in every way because of her guidance, care and a carefully-timed kick to the ass.

In Identity, Personal Growth, Relationships

Brick Wall

Julianne HarveyNovember 3, 2015October 30, 2015Leave a comment

Do you ever find yourself going along your merry way, fairly happy and peaceful, when suddenly BAM! a brick wall comes out of nowhere and smacks you in the face?

I could do without this. I’m doing my daily soul work: holding important relationship boundaries, looking inside to see where I might be veering off course or doing too much for others, checking in with my feelings, handling the mundane busywork of living. And then, that brick wall. It could be an email, a piece of unexpected news, a distracted spouse, a schedule that doesn’t allow for rest or reflection, a word or a look that is easily misinterpreted.

Emotional brick walls are land mines – you never know when they are going to trigger an explosion. When my reaction is ten times bigger than the situation calls for, I know I’ve stepped on some unhealed wound from childhood. The further back it goes, the deeper its hold on our psyche.

The pain is similar to what you would get if you ran full-tilt into a brick wall or if a bomb exploded under you. It causes panic and fear and chaos. The crappy part is that no one can see this. Only you. And most of the scabs that get torn from our childhood hurts involve our biggest questions around identity and value. We feel internal agony, and pretty soon we are asking, “Am I good enough? Do I matter at all?”

When I was a kid, I walked on eggshells, all day and all night. Under these broken eggs were many undetonated land mines. Most of this had nothing to do with me – it was my parents’ garbage, brought in from their damaged childhoods and given to me as a legacy. But I didn’t know that then. My coping mechanism was to disappear into other people. When an issue came up, I took responsibility for it and fixed it, even if I wasn’t even involved in it.

This destructive habit of caretaking has plagued me for my whole existence. Deciding to shed it was both the best and worst thing I’ve ever done. The best because it finally meant I could look after myself. It gave me options; the choice to let another person manage their own life instead of me doing it for them. But it was the worst because it stripped me of everything I hung my value on. It hollowed me out. If I wasn’t fixing everyone else’s problems, what in the world was I good for? I was nothing, no one, utterly useless without this stressful busy work of bleeding into everyone else’s pain.

I have better skills now. But every so often, that brick wall materializes and I am terrified of all those unexploded land mines. Am I really enough, just as I am, or do I have to hustle harder to prove I deserve a spot at the table? This endless longing to be loved for who I am and not for what I can do ties me up in knots every damn time.

It boils down to this: does unconditional love really win or am I searching for more gold stars for my behaviour chart? I must feel the pain of everything I cannot control, absorb the sadness of the losses I have sustained, and then bravely decide to get back on my feet and keep going. There are no shortcuts in soul work. We have to keep walking, even when it’s dark and scary and we are all alone, and hope that soon we’ll be on the other side and can finally understand the lesson we were meant to learn.

In Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships, Speaking, Writing

Priorities

Julianne HarveyOctober 27, 2015October 26, 2015Leave a comment

When we don’t feel like we have any real choices, we can’t set priorities. Everything becomes urgent. It’s a race to survive each day, managing difficult people and situations. Then we collapse into bed at night, exhausted, but glad we made it through, only to wake up and do it all again tomorrow.

I get itchy around my neck just thinking about those days. That was my life, until about five years ago when it all began to change. As I became healthier, gazing inward and owning responsibility for what was mine and letting go of what didn’t belong to me, options opened up that I’d never had before.

Do I want to be in a relationship with this person? Should I speak up in this meeting or is it better to stay quiet? Can I quit this committee if it’s sucking the life out of me, even if they want me to stay?

These kinds of choices didn’t exist for me before, because I was living for other people and not for myself. If a person asked me to do something, my answer was yes, otherwise they might be upset. I believed that my number one goal in life was to be universally adored. The problem was that I did my best to do what everyone else wanted from me and I still ran into a shitload of problems.

Realizing in my counsellor’s office that I could make decisions based on what was right for me completely changed my life. It was pure oxygen where before I was gasping for air. Sure, I had to endure the agony of disappointing others, making a few enemies and learning how to exist in emotional mess, but the price I paid was worth it a million times over because now I had actual choices to make.

After a few years of practicing healthy decision making (and the hard part of communicating it to less-than-enthusiastic people), now I find I’ve graduated to setting priorities. This involves taking an honest look at everything I give my time to and then figuring out what should stay and what must go. This is not easy, for any of us, but it must be done if you are trying to succeed at something.

For most of my life, I pursued the immature fantasy of “having it all”. Now I know that this is impossible and therefore not a worthy goal. I must choose what to invest in. Equally important, I must decide what to let go of. It aches in the centre of my being when I adjust my priorities and discard something I truly love, but in order to pursue my highest goals, these decisions need to be made.

In the last few years, I’ve learned that self-care must come higher on my priority list. This involves rest, leisure, fun, food, exercise and time with friends. For everything to have its place, some activities and relationships can stay and a few must go. I’ve come to understand that this is healthy and mature, albeit painful and scary.

Setting priorities is about assessing risk and reward. What works for a time may not serve us forever, so we have to check in regularly and re-evaluate. I know I still have a lot to learn in this area, but knowing that I have choices is the key to arranging and maintaining my own priorities.

In Books, Identity, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships

Unfinished Business

Julianne HarveyOctober 20, 2015October 19, 2015Leave a comment

I’m almost done reading Unfinished Business by Anne-Marie Slaughter. She’s given me a lot to chew on in these pages, about the true nature of equality between men and women and what is required from all of us for the next great cultural wave of change to occur.

Chapter five, entitled Is Managing Money Really Harder than Managing Kids? was particularly moving for me to read. I was trying to wind down before going to sleep, but so many light bulbs were going on in my brain that I was afraid to keep reading in case I stayed awake half the night considering her ideas on how we need to place a higher value on caregiving in our society.

Slaughter writes, “The broader understanding of caregiving also includes teaching, discipline (holding the line even in the face of tears, threats, and curses), coaching, encouraging, problem solving, character building, and role modeling. Often caregiving is about reliability: simply being there when being there is important to your child, your parent, or your spouse. And it’s about support: focusing on someone else’s needs and figuring out how to meet them, whether finding a lost sock, book, or cell phone or offering a genuinely attentive ear.”

Allowing these words to sink into my brain was like applying Polysporin to an infected wound that has been festering for the last twelve years. I despise this endless need for permission to validate the specific choices I have made, along with Jason, about what’s best for our family, but clearly I still have work to do in this area.

I planned to return to work after Ava was born, for I am a feminist, dammit, and ambitious to boot. I was not going to stay home and waste my decent brain on nursery rhymes and homemade play-doh. If this sounds judgmental, that’s because it is. One of Slaughter’s recurring themes in her book is that we must all face up to our cultural stereotypes, gender biases, and faulty perceptions. I certainly possess my share.

But once Ava was born, I didn’t want to leave her to go back to my office, so Jason and I made a series of sacrifices so I could stay home. I started a successful home business selling rubber-stamping products so I could help close the gap between what Jason earned and what we needed to live on.

Fast-forward twelve years. Many things have changed but one thing hasn’t: I’m still the one at home, managing the myriad of day-to-day arrangements and catastrophes. I’m the one caregiving. How could I ever hope that anyone else will value this role unless I model what that looks like for myself?

Jason has an excellent job and he is terrific at it, but a huge part of why he is so successful is the contribution I make at home. I am here, day in and day out, working my writing and speaking around the kids’ schedules so that when Jason needs to travel for his career, he has the flexibility to do so. The competition of the workforce only succeeds if someone is taking care of the details at home.

I realized while reading Unfinished Business that I must continue to define my own contributions as valuable. I have to reframe them, and so does anyone who has built a life on those skills that Slaughter lists in the earlier quote: teaching, discipline, coaching, encouraging, problem solving, character building, role modeling, reliability and support. These things matter. Just because they don’t usually have a dollar value attached doesn’t mean that they wouldn’t be sorely missed if they were gone.

This is unfinished business for me in my own personal value system. I’m grateful to Anne-Marie Slaughter for continuing this important cultural conversation with her new book.

In Books, Identity, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships

No More

Julianne HarveyOctober 13, 2015October 13, 2015Leave a comment

“It often takes just a single brave person to change the trajectory of a family, or any system, for that matter.” This quote, from Brene Brown’s terrific new book Rising Strong, struck me in the heart like a well-placed arrow.

It’s brave to make huge life changes. It costs us, every single time, and has far-reaching effects for others. I’m just arriving at a point where I feel comfortable talking about the work I did three years ago with my side of the family. Before now, a lot of silent, underground healing was still happening.

I loved listening to Brene talk with Liz Gilbert on her Magic Lessons podcast about the types of stories we share. Brene said that she only shares stories when she’s worked through the shame, pain and regret. If she tells these stories before this healing has happened, it’s too much vulnerability and other people can use the story against her. Once she’s finished processing the wound, she can talk about it without feeling the same sting.

Hearing this boosted my courage because I recognized its truth in my soul before I even worked it through my mind. A single brave person can alter the trajectory of everything, by simply deciding, “No more.”

In my case, it was, “No more pretending. From this point on, I’m moving toward being real, authentic and honest. I will not ignore my feelings any longer. I am worth more than that. I deserve to pursue my own path, without constantly worrying about how other people will perceive me. From this point on, I’m looking after myself and my dependent children and refusing to caretake for other adults.”

This statement caused great unrest and upheaval in my family of origin. It did not fit with my lifetime habit of rescuing, fixing and people-pleasing. I can finally own this as a brave act of vulnerability and risk. I did it to save myself and to model a different way of being for my two kids.

It was very hard, for a long time. I felt this stand was selfish. I worried about disappointing my mom and siblings. I grappled with less-than identity concerns about my own value and worthiness – how could anyone else love me if I was on the outs with my own family? Working through these issues was agonizing, but worth it in the end, for I got to change the trajectory for myself and my kids. It’s never too late to stand up and say, “No more. It’s time to chart a new course.”

The consequences of these decisions must be weathered and borne. We can’t skip past them. Other people will hurt as a result of our choices, but this is for them to endure and feel. We might be in pain for a long time. I’ve had to learn to forgive and then love from a distance while the healing process is underway. But I have the right to change, grow and be free from old patterns. And so do you.