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In Culture, Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships, Spiritual Life

You are Safe and You are Loved

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
You are Safe and You are Loved

When my kids are scared, I tell them, “You are safe and you are loved.” In these frightening times I’m holding these words close, for we can either freeze in panic or move forward in the belief that we are safe and cared for.

Try rolling that phrase around in your mind for a minute or two. “You are safe and you are loved.” It calms something down that’s anxious in you, doesn’t it? It helps. Nothing outward will change, but if you are slightly more peaceful, it makes everything a bit easier to bear.

The problem comes when we forget that we are safe and we are loved. We begin to descend into panic, our palms sweaty, our tummies roiling, our minds racing ahead with all of the “what if’s?” that will never really go away. But for now, in this exact moment, we are safe and we are loved.

I’ve had a series of separate discussions with people in this last week about the situation developing in America. Some have said that they aren’t political and are just waiting for it to blow over. Others have expressed concern but have stated that maybe it’s all meant to work out this way and there’s not much we can do as Canadians to make our voices heard.

I have a few American friends who voted for Trump and I love these people and have a history with them, but I cannot bring myself to talk about this with them as his election is simply too fresh and upsetting to me. So I’m practicing making space in my heart for opposing beliefs. I’m summoning as much grace as possible, for me and for my friends and for those who are desperately angry, terrified and affected by his sweeping and unjust policies.

It’s hard. It hurts. I want a gentle, peaceful world and we are on the precipice of war, violence, narcissism, bigotry and the misogyny of a patriarchy I had hoped was becoming a thing of the past. And yet here we are, trying to explain these horrible headlines to our children when we cannot begin to understand them ourselves.

But this I do know: I am safe and I am loved. I will wrap it around me like a coat and wear it to keep warm. I will be excessively kind and attempt to encourage as many people as I can. I will march and protest when the availability arises and if it doesn’t, I’ll organize one myself. I can dream of the kind of peaceful world I want to live in and do my best to create it on a daily basis and then hope it will spread like wildfire to the hearts of the refugees, the innocent children, the marginalized and those who believe the U.S. is moving in the right direction.

Let’s join together, if we are afraid, and reassure ourselves. Let’s whisper, “You are safe and you are loved.” We need each other’s hope and assurance, more than ever before. None of us are alone. We are safe, we are loved, and together we are powerful.

In Culture, Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Relationships

Why the Women’s March Matters

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
Why the Women’s March Matters

The Women’s March matters because now is the time to wake up and fight for what we all deserve: basic human rights of equality, respect and dignity. 

I floated the idea of attending the Women’s March in Vancouver on January 21st to my husband and kids in a somewhat lacklustre manner. I said, “I’d really like to attend this march because I think it’s critically important to stand up for what I believe is right, but I also want to sleep in on Saturday.”

My thirteen-year-old daughter, who is a feminist through and through, immediately responded, “I’m in. Let’s go.” My husband said the same thing. My plans to sleep in were jettisoned in favour of a momentous cultural moment. I’m so grateful for their positive response to this idea, for I needed the kick in the ass to move beyond what I say to what I’m willing to show up for and be a part of.

The time has come to stop hoping for change and to instead become that change. It’s not enough to sit by and be silent. Many women have taken that path throughout history, for a lot of different reasons, but now, in 2017, we’ve come too damn far to stay quiet now.

For the first time since the U.S. election, I felt optimistic again while I was marching. I felt powerful, like what I want is achievable if I’ve got the guts to go for it. I will not say nothing and passively watch our culture slide further to the right into an outdated and unfairly oppressive system of patriarchy.

Women and minorities are powerful when we join together and say, “No more of this. We are valuable and important and we have voices that we aren’t afraid to use.” Sure, it might make some people uncomfortable. So what? The spirit of the Women’s Marches around the globe was one of power, peace and unity. I could feel it in my bones in Vancouver. It woke something up that was too afraid to come out into the light before.

I watched Ava’s face as we walked, chanted, read signs, laughed, linked arms and participated. Her features were lit up, fierce, on fire, alive and alert. It was beautiful. I felt the surging energy of the crowd, passionate enough to show up early on a drizzly Saturday morning in the tens of thousands to say, “We are here. We matter. We will not be ignored.”

In my lifetime I’ve never seen a coordinated protest rise up around the world in response to the American inauguration of a new president. But the integrity of the man they have elected matters. The danger he poses to women, minorities, immigrants and the marginalized is very real and deeply disturbing. I’m concerned when I talk to people who don’t seem bothered by what is developing to the south of us.

I’m immensely proud to be a woman with a husband and children who were ready and willing to show up and march. The real work of resistance is only beginning, but hot damn, what a crackerjack opening we had around the globe on Saturday.

It’s not enough to wait and see what happens. We’ve been grieving and fearful for awhile now. It’s women who made this mammoth march happen in a short amount of time. We are the ones who have to show up and fight for what we believe in.

Clearly, many people are willing to do this important work. I’m encouraged by these numbers. It makes me feel less terrified and alone. Let’s keep going. We matter and we have a lot of work to do to keep this momentum going. 

In Culture, Identity, Nurture, Relationships

Held

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
Held

Whenever I start to panic about the state of the world (fairly often, these days), I picture the word “held” in my mind. This word conjures up a sense of safety, even when it can’t be found in anything around me, and helps to remind me that I am not alone.

The incredible success of the wonderfully joyful musical La La Land at the Golden Globes on Sunday night speaks to a dearth of optimism in the hearts of people at this moment in time. I think we are all in need of serious cheer. We want to believe that the U.S. isn’t going down in flames and threatening to bring a large portion of the globe down with them.

I am either held and safe, or I’m not. So I choose to believe that I’m going to be okay. That we are all capable of surviving difficult times. We have reserves of strength that none of us have ever had to touch yet that will be there for us when we need them.

Meryl Streep’s powerful speech beautifully drove home the power of empathy and how dark the world seems when it’s missing or under attack. All I know is that we must shine brighter when night falls. Being afraid is not going to get us very far. That is the coward’s way, and I have to believe that we are not cowards.

Held. To be held implies a sort of surrender, to someone or something bigger than we are. This can be God, fate, love, a higher power, forgiveness, nature or anything else. It just has to be big enough and capable enough to hold you and comfort you. To help in the scariest moments of your life. To offer peace and hope when these elements are in short supply.

Together we are always stronger than when we are divided. It’s time to come together, to keep the dialogue of empathy and generosity going, even when it might not be popular. Especially when it’s not popular.

Many of us are heartbroken and discouraged by the direction of the world. Today, let’s remember that we are held, and safe, and find in this knowledge the courage to keep going. To let our light be enough for us to see by, and possibly to spread hope to a few people around us. This is our legacy. This is enough.

In Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships

3 Words for 2016 Review: Strong, Clear, Optimistic

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
3 Words for 2016 Review: Strong, Clear, Optimistic

At the end of 2015, I picked three words to focus on in 2016: strong, clear, optimistic. Looking back over the course of my year, I can see how I lived into these words, defining and understanding their worth and value.

The messy process of human existence is a fascinating topic. Our growth tends to be agonizingly slow and frustrating. It’s one step forward and three back, making us doubt any progress is happening at all, but if we give it enough time, eventually we can chart our halting, incremental changes.

I started 2016 with a smouldering restlessness. It was undefined and non-specific, but a fuse was lit in my spirit that signalled a need for a reboot. As the year wore on, it became apparent that Jason and the kids were also feeling this vague discontent, so as a family we actively sought what we referred to as a new start (actually, ANUSTART, which fans of Arrested Development will appreciate).

This came to us in early July, in the form of a job offer in the Vancouver area for Jason. We worked our butts off to list our house and get him out to B.C. to start his new job.

Then my appendix burst and made everything significantly more complicated, but it also propelled me onto a fresh track for deep personal transformation. In a very real sense, my appendix was the catalyst for a necessary life rupture for me.

Out of that painful, expensive, frightening and uncertain time came the opportunity to practice being strong, clear and optimistic. I would never have foreseen or designed this hospital stay and complex recovery period at the beginning of the year when I chose those three words, but in the way of most significant events in life, my appendix surgery gave me exactly what I needed to make those words real in my experience.

So as this (mostly) challenging, difficult, stressful year winds to a close, I am reflecting on what it means to be strong, clear and optimistic. I’m feeling grateful for the opportunity to live out these skills that I recognized as areas of weakness when I chose them to focus on.

I also stated that I wanted to let go of my deep-seated fear that I am not enough: a shame-fueled energy suck that has hampered me for my entire existence. I had many chances to practice this in 2016. Plenty of situations invited me to walk through my scalding fear that who I am was not enough, for myself or for others. And slowly I proved that I am indeed enough, just as I am, without having to distract people or fool them.

The relief in this discovery was as large as the galaxy itself. None of this was straightforward or easy, but so worth it when I look back and chart this growth trajectory. It feels inevitable, like it was always going to unspool this way and set up the new challenges and triumphs that 2017 is sure to bring.

In Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships, Writing

A Reprieve from Depression

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
A Reprieve from Depression

This fall, I experienced a prolonged depression. Other than when I had my soul breakdown in January 2010, I have not felt such all-consuming darkness until 2016.

Some things are too desperately intimate to write about until we have achieved a bit of distance from it. I’m learning now to walk through the worst of it with a few trusted confidantes, and only examine it when I feel more stable and sure. I’m definitely still not out of the woods yet, but it’s better now.

Anyone who has been depressed knows just how scary it can get. The sense of hopelessness and despair is all around you, with no reprieve in sight. Just getting through the day until you can sleep is like climbing a steep mountain in the dark when you don’t have the necessary survival supplies with you.

For me, it was a perfect storm of moving, being homeless for two months and living with my in-laws (who were gracious and kind with us in their space, but not having my own routines and home was tougher than I expected), getting the kids settled in new schools and Jason in a new job, plus recovering from my 8 day hospital stay after a ruptured appendix this summer.

Everything left me off-kilter, sad, lost and fearful. I had to acknowledge just how rough it had been, while still moving forward because the pace of life doesn’t gently slow to allow for ongoing quiet reflection. I found another gear to downshift into and simply keep going: painting our new place, buying groceries, writing, keeping up with friends…but all of it was shaded in grey and held no vibrancy or optimism in it.

I booked a phone call with my fabulous therapist in Alberta and she helped me sort out a lot of these complex emotions. We can’t run from what haunts us. It’s better to stop and face it, when we are able to, and feel it thoroughly so it releases its death grip on us. I needed to do this in a few areas. After weeping a gallon or so of hot tears, I could choose to let it go and make space for something new and better in its place.

The key ingredient I needed was rest. This is true for many of us. We are not machines and cannot go like the Energizer Bunny forever. Eventually we crash. It’s preferable to anticipate the impending breakdown and make a change before it happens. I needed to make the choice to slow down, both internally and externally. To journal. To sleep in on the weekend. To not have the answers. To say no to a few commitments and yes to a board game with my kids in my pajamas.

It’s so true that if we don’t have our health, we don’t have anything. And no one will look after it for us. That job falls to each of us. We get to choose what makes us happy and determine what is contributing to our ongoing grief and darkness. I am longing to move toward the light, in whatever form that takes. With people, with activities, with my own strength and courage.

Sometimes we simply have to survive these bleak and awful seasons, but if we want to thrive we must make space for our own souls. Less Facebook ranting and more kindness. Fewer nasty opinions on Twitter and more quiet winter walks where I can breathe the clean air and pray. We can make room for all of these big feelings without labelling them as bad or good. In making our way though it, we slowly find our way home, back to our truest, most authentic selves.