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In Identity, Personal Growth, Relationships, Speaking, Writing

I Am Enough

Julianne HarveyFebruary 23, 2016February 21, 2016Leave a comment

I made a list of things I wanted to let go of in 2016. At the top of the list was this: my deep-seated fear that I am not enough.

I had no idea when I wrote that how massive the reverberations would be in my psyche from the earthquake this would cause. We’re seven weeks in to this new year, and expressing a willingness to work on this hidden area of shame and being less-than has cratered my life.

The explosion is the worst. It blows all of your security and coping mechanisms apart. You are left with nothing safe or familiar. You feel naked, exposed, stupid, alienated. You think you cannot survive what just happened, but then something miraculous occurs: you do.

Getting at wounds that feel primal takes a herculean effort at courage. We want to scatter, like rats or cockroaches, as soon as the light touches the poorly-healed scar. Our deepest and darkest secrets reside in these places. The pain is staggering, fresh, overwhelming. The first instinct is to run; to put as much distance as possible between you and the hurt, to throw everyone else off the scent by summoning every trick in our arsenal to show that we are the opposite of our greatest fear.

But if we don’t run, something remarkable happens to us and in us. We stare it down. In my case, I saw that over the course of my life, I’ve developed healthier skills that helped me face the anguish I’d been running from.

Just because I felt less-than doesn’t mean I am less-than. I could prove, to myself, that I am more successful than I’ve been allowing myself to take credit for. While staring into this stinking abyss of not being good enough, I saw that I already had what I needed to be happy, fulfilled and optimistic. It was already there. Now the task was to claim it, to hold it in my hand, to cease striving for someone else to give it to me and simply be enough exactly as I am in this moment.

It all had to fall to shit before I could see it clearly. I had to risk losing everything and everyone to see how much I already had. This one has been a muddy, long slog. No one else was responsible for my own sense of worth. This was on me. I had to feel the sting of the shame and the fear in order to stare it down and come out safely on the other side. And damn, was it a solitary and terrifying journey, but the other side is as wide open as the prairies.

I’m free in this new landscape. I own my choices, my value, my soul, my fresh belief that I am enough and always have been. But worrying about what came before is a fool’s errand and I’m done being foolish. I can only move on from here and live out of this place of truth and beauty, where forgiveness finally exists for myself as much as for anyone else.

It will be less lonely now, for I can choose whom to invite into this new reality – the one where I am enough, simply because I breathe, and not because I’m terrified to show you just how hard I’m working to prove my worth to you. Those days are gone and it all looks so different now.

Our inside reality determines how we experience everything. I’m not setting my value now in a hypothetical sense. This is finally real, part of my daily experience, and I’m not handing this gift to anyone now. It’s mine, I own it, and I’m going to treat it much better from this point forward.

In Personal Growth, Relationships, Speaking, Writing

Not Responsible for the Outcome

Julianne HarveyJanuary 26, 2016April 24, 2016Leave a comment

Last week I had a profound epiphany. Not the kind that happens in the cold, clinical brain, but the one that settles gently with a thud in the centre of your being, where your experience dwells.

I was getting ready for bed, puttering around applying Flexitol on my heels to prevent cracking and putting Blistex on my lips, when this crystal clear phrase landed in my spirit: I am not responsible for the outcome. Instantly, these seven words loosened something that had been jammed up inside of me. I felt lighter, more whole, complete. I began to cry, equally grateful for the revelation and the fact that Jason was out of town so I could work through this on my own while crawling into bed.

All good epiphanies have a lot of significant moments leading up to them. Without these preparatory steps, the big paradigm shift wouldn’t carry as much weight. My breadcrumbs included this podcast from Rob Bell, this kind comment on my blog, this tweet from an author I respect, and this beautiful post by Glennon Doyle Melton.

I’ve been struggling for a few weeks with a sense of purpose in my writing. I’ve been unmoored, adrift, afraid. This fog had nothing to do with the work itself, but everything to do with how others reacted (or didn’t react) to the product I put out into the world. I got mired in the familiar self-doubts, the ones that taunt, “You are wasting your time. Go do something better with your life. You’re never going to get anywhere with the type of writing you do. It has no meaning for anyone but you.”

Most of us face these soul-crushing thoughts from time to time. For me, it rips at a very old and weak scar in my psyche. I want to protect that wound at all costs because it didn’t heal properly and will throb like hell if I allow any air on it. This one goes way back to early childhood, filed in the YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH folder. It’s soaked in shame and regret. I don’t want to look at it and I sure don’t want to show it to anyone else.

But to heal it, I know that I have to face it. So Jason went out of town for a week and I used the time on my own to stare this beast down; to intentionally stop running from my fear of scarcity and instead list why I do what I do. I made a long list of my career priorities, then knocked out one after another until I could see the core. I brought my three priority words for 2016 back to the forefront of my life – strong, clear, optimistic – and made sure they fit with the writing, speaking, nurturing and innovating goals I identified as most important.

All of this led to the revelation that I am not responsible for the outcome. My job is to follow my curiosity, be true to myself and my vision for the work I’m doing, and then let go of it. I love it when Glennon says it’s not our job as writers to defend our art. We write because we have an innate need to create, but then we must let go of what happens to it out in the world.

For the new forms I’m experimenting with, particularly Literary Salons and my Nurture is Valuable project, I’ve done my part if I show up and do my best to connect people in a meaningful way. That’s it – that’s all I can do. The rest is not up to me. Knowing this is true in my very bones and marrow suddenly makes it fun and simple again. I feel refreshed, happy, ready to rock and roll.

I’m responsible to show up and do the work. Everyone else is responsible for the outcome.

In Identity, Personal Growth, Relationships, Speaking

Ground Rules

Julianne HarveyDecember 15, 2015December 7, 2015Leave a comment

I did my first literary salons in grade eleven and twelve English classes a few weeks ago. I approached it as an experiment, hoping that seventeen and eighteen-year-old students would be interested in the art of open-ended conversation on meaningful topics such as loss, hope, pain, regret and letting go.

I began by laying out three key ground rules for the salon:

Only say what you are comfortable sharing
What is said here remains confidential
This is not a debate

I spent the most time elaborating on number 3. I said, “You are not trying to prove a point, or change someone’s mind, or be right. The salon is not about ideas. It’s about experience; we are trying to connect with each other by finding those ‘me too’ moments of identification.”

What happened in both classes was astonishing. After a brief warm-up round of questions drawn from a bright blue bag, the small groups of six teens each moved on to deeper subjects. Everyone participated by sharing and listening. The very air in the classroom warmed up as we all focused on each person’s story. The braver someone got with their individual answer, the more intense the connection became from person to person in that group.

I floated around, as did the teacher, and we both shared from our lives where appropriate. I was amazed by how different the experience was from regular conversation because of the ground rules, particularly the reminder that we were all there to listen and share, not to convince anyone of anything.

I’m still mulling over the power of this experience, because an idea is germinating somewhere in my soul about how healing and important this type of authentic connection is with one another. Ground rules for the process of willingly engaging with another person’s experience, with no judgement or criticism, seems to be a key piece of this interaction puzzle. But how do I take this concept from the relative safety of a high school English class and bring it to the rest of the world?

I’m still working on that. I hope an answer begins to materialize to this worthwhile question. I know that something significant shifted and changed in me as we were talking. When a student inevitably said something I disagreed with, I took a deep breath and steered the group conversation back to the specific question at hand because the ground rules said I couldn’t debate an idea or philosophy.

Instead, I tried to connect with the person’s unique experience, and search for places to identify with him or her on a human level. This strategy increased the level of vulnerability and connection we all felt, instead of adding more angry voices into a discussion on who was right and who was wrong. Every one of us gets plenty of that already on the Internet.

This experience was gentler, softer, more real and insightful. I want endlessly more of that, and it’s up to me to grow it in my own soul and then give it away when it blooms.

At the end of the salon, students said that they saw each other in a new way as a result of the group conversations. They realized that no person is any one thing. We are more alike than we are different. We all hurt, worry, hope, dream and fear.

When we agree to hold another person’s dignity in a safe relationship space, we find freedom to be honest, open and genuine. Observing the ground rules changes us, allowing for compassion to grow, and this in turn has the power to change the whole world.

In Personal Growth, Speaking

Don’t Wait

Julianne HarveyDecember 8, 2015December 7, 2015Leave a comment

I ran a literary salon in a grade eleven English class, and one seventeen-year-old student said, “I’m just waiting for my life to start.” This struck me as a sad statement, so I asked him, “Aren’t you alive now?”

He responded with a list of the many ways his life was going to improve when he got out of school and into the real world. He would get a good job, be free to make his own choices, live wherever he wanted, and answer to no one. I tried to tell him that the problems only get bigger when you get older.

It’s dangerous to long for your life to start, because most of that is only conjecture. It’s like throwing darts while blindfolded, hoping to hit your target. How will you know when you’ve arrived at this magical place where now your life is finally what you want it to be?

I think it bothered me because I saw myself in this young, discontented teen. Most of the things that irritate us hit uncomfortably close to our own experience. I don’t think I convinced him to stop living in the future and start embracing the messy, beautiful imperfection of his current grade eleven experience, but that wasn’t the point. Instead, I convinced myself.

I spent many years waiting for that elusive pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I told myself, “My life will be amazing when I get married, have kids, sell a screenplay, buy a house, go on a book tour, win an Oscar…(fill in the blank).” Some of these things have happened and some have not, but waiting to be happy and fulfilled is a losing game.

It’s all here, right now, each and every day. The responsibility, the fun, the pain, the bottomless joy, the wonder, the crouching fear, the uncertainty. All of it belongs to each of us, muddling our way through this strange, beautiful and terrible experience called life. We can’t wait. We must be brave enough to live it now, today, this very hour.

Happiness and hurt exist together, side by side. We don’t get creativity without fear. We only succeed when we are willing to fail. It’s all mixed up together, in an unpredictable and sloppy brew. If we are alive, we shouldn’t wait for our life to start. It’s been going since the moment you drew your first breath.

Own it, for exactly what it is. If it sucks, improve it. If you hate it, make changes. Life is not happening someplace else, in some future location. This is it.

Don’t blame your parents or circumstances or politics. If you want something, pursue it with your whole heart. Don’t quit until you get it, but by all means, enjoy each and every step on the path that takes you there. We only have so much time to be alive. We all have lessons to learn. Everything counts.

Don’t wait. Today is the day to live your best life.

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.