accepting Archives - Julianne Harvey

In Culture, Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships

Hold Loosely

Julianne HarveyJuly 11, 2017

I know I’m on the wrong road when I begin to forecast outcomes for the things I really desire. I roll them around in my mind like cotton candy in a drum, thinking, “And then this will happen, and then this!” until I have it all planned out and now I just have to wait for it to unfold in reality.

But then it doesn’t go my way. And I’m disappointed, but I was never guaranteed any of those magical outcomes. I simply talked myself into them and then I have to deal with the extreme disappointment I feel.

Holding loosely is a much healthier alternative. I wish it came more naturally to me, but for those of us who were raised in less-than-stellar homes, fantasy thinking is one of our go-to strategies for survival.

I know that taking things as they come is a better operating mode. It requires me to live in each moment I’m in. The recovery movement has taught me that expectations are pre-meditated resentments and with my whole heart I know this to be true.

When I’m upset over a few situations I realize again that I’m failing when it comes to holding loosely. I become hurt and confused by the choices other people make and the grief in my chest reminds me that I’ve been clinging to my wishes with a death grip instead of playing it as it comes with open hands.

So I go back to the beginning. First things first. How important is it? Live and let live. Other people are not under my control. I can’t see everything that’s coming. This life is full of twists and turns. It’s healthier to react to what actually happens instead of forecasting a desired outcome that’s nothing more than fantasy.

No matter what our past habits have been, we can change. All we have to do is decide to do better from this point forward, and be gentle with ourselves when we fall back into our old patterns.

For me, I’m going to write HOLD LOOSELY on a piece of paper and put it up where I can see it every day. Hopefully this will help me to recall that both wonderful and terrible surprises happen constantly. It’s better not to be too attached to any one outcome or decision because it will likely shift and change on me.

If we stay present, open to a variety of possibilities instead of narrowly holding onto a set course of action, we give ourselves options. My words for 2017 are open, accepting, anchored. Holding loosely fits into all of these, particularly if the anchor is my true identity and not a specific circumstance.

I’d love to hear a story of how holding loosely has helped you. Any tips for me on how to practice this skill on a regular basis?

In Culture, Identity, Minimalism, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships, Speaking

Anchored

Julianne HarveyFebruary 28, 2017February 28, 2017

For 2017, the three words I wanted to focus on were: open, accepting and anchored. The first two months of this new year are drawing to a close, and I would say that I’ve had a lot of opportunities to focus on being anchored.

I’m working hard on staying in the present moment. I’ve traveled a lot in February, flying to Alberta three times to present at teachers’ conventions in Edmonton and Calgary. Ava’s acting career has also been heating up with lots of auditions and some bookings for film and commercials. This has kept me busy, but in a good way, not a frantic one.

When you have a lot of balls up in the air, it really helps to take each day as it comes instead of worrying about the next day. Each one has enough challenges and excitement in it. I used to live so much in my mind, stressing out over things that were way down the road. This business of anchoring in to each present moment is so much better for my overall sense of life satisfaction.

Meditation has been a huge help to me since the beginning of January. I downloaded Insight Timer to my phone, a free app with lots of guided meditations to choose from on a variety of topics. It’s free (which I love) and setting aside ten to fifteen minutes each morning to indulge in meditation has calmed my mind and my soul more than I ever dreamed possible.

It’s not an overstatement to say that I feel like a completely different person. One that can handle uncertainty and short timelines much better than before. I can now roll with the punches and I’ve accepted that it’s fine not to have the next twenty steps neatly mapped out. It’s enough to know what I’m doing at this moment and have a vague idea of the next step. Anything beyond that feels too stressful.

Anchoring myself is a wonderful gift. I credit meditation as the number one change I’ve made in the last two months, but also simply fine-tuning my awareness and working at calming myself when I’m anxious has made a big difference to the overall peace I’m experiencing. Sometimes we need a scary illness like I had this summer to properly crystallize what matters and be finally able to let go of what hangs us up and never really served us.

My need to control has been a lifelong habit, strangling me without me being aware of how hampering it was. But now I’ve learned a better way of coping, one that involves kind words to myself and to others around me, plus a clear understanding that I am in charge of very little in this life. And that’s okay. It’s up to me to keep my mind sharp and clear, to push out of the way all of the little irritations and time-wasters that conspire to steal my joy.

I’m feeling grounded, anchored, held. I can easily admit I don’t have all the answers. In fact, I have very few of them. But it’s really fine. No one has all the answers. If they say they do, they are lying to cover up their overall anxiety level. Gentleness works better. So does staying in the moment. Having a sense of humour helps too.

Worrying about tomorrow truly does rob today of its happiness. I’m not going to do that anymore. I’m staying here, right now, and noticing what’s in me and around me. What a difference this change has made to the quality of my days and my willingness to try new and challenging things.

In Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth

3 Words for 2017: Open, Accepting, Anchored

Julianne HarveyJanuary 3, 2017January 3, 2017

I’ve chosen my 3 guiding words for 2017: open, accepting, anchored. I enjoy the process of arriving on these words to focus on. I get quiet, I close my eyes, I breathe deeply and I wait. They settle in on my soul, like snowflakes, one by one. I recognize each word as it enters my consciousness, inviting me to accept the unique challenge it offers.

I loved this 3 word experiment so much last year that I pushed Jason and the kids to pick new words along with me for 2017. Ava and Jason each chose one and William, true to character, refused (but Jason and I selected one for him).

Author Sarah Bessey picks one word for her year and she shared this beautiful site where they will handwrite your words and send you a digital copy to print and look at all year. I plan to order one.

The power of choosing these 3 words is that when I get off course in 2017, as I inevitably will, I can use them as a rudder to point me back in the direction I want to be going in. For as long as we are drawing breath, we can improve, change and grow. We are never stuck, unless we decide to be. We always have more internal work we can do.

Here are my 3 words for 2017:

Open.

I spent way too many years of my life closed off in a world of black and white absolutes. Now I long for openness. I must practice being open in a variety of areas: my mind, my heart, my beliefs, my breath, my body. I’m visualizing a rose tightly coiled in the bud, ready to unfurl day by day to reveal its fullest beauty to the world.

Accepting.

After openness comes acceptance. I often struggle with people or belief systems that are wildly different from who I am and what I hold dear. This year I am seeking chances to practice accepting others where they are instead of forcing my ways and ideas on them. For this, my visual is open palms, tipped to the sky, accepting experiences and people as they are instead of trying to make them what I want them to be.

Anchored.

To me, this word means present, held, rooted. I’m in need of this discipline as I’m so often somewhere else. My mind noses way down the road, to some uncertain future, instead of being anchored in the now. I want to notice more in 2017. To use my five senses. To remind myself to stay rooted and here in my own life. For this, the image is a wrought-iron ship anchor – heavy, ornate, rusty, well-used, dependable and beloved.

Happy New Year, my friends. What are your words for 2017?

In Culture, Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth

Lessons from the Hospital

Julianne HarveyAugust 2, 2016August 2, 2016Leave a comment

So, my appendix ruptured in the middle of last week and I’ve been in the hospital for 5 days now and counting recovering from post-surgery complications and issues.

I’ve learned a lot from this experience. Type A Go-Getters like myself don’t do well recovering at a snail’s pace, with one step forward and three back every damn day. I want to see results. I want to be the BEST at recovering, not the worst.

But what we cannot control, we must learn to accept. Kicking and screaming, maybe, but fighting what we can’t alter is a fool’s errand. To that end, these are some key things I’ve learned in my five days of recovery so far from appendicitis:

Our Bodies are Equally Strong and Frail

My mom reminded me that recovering from surgery is like labour: it helps to get out of the way and let your body do what it knows how to do. When you are tired, rest. When you need to get your bowels moving, walk. When you are puking into a tin in the middle of the night, totally lost, wasted and alone, trust that your body is doing the best that it can to heal.

In this way, I have newfound respect for my body and I feel more ready than ever to let go of my stupid issues about wishing my stomach was flatter or my arms sleeker. My body is a machine, like yours, and it’s healthy to respect what it can do.

The frail part is harder to come to terms with. In the hospital, on my many daily walks around the ward, you see all manners of human frailty in each room. Someone passed away this morning in my ward and family members were clinging to each other and sobbing in the hallways outside of my room. Life does not last forever. It is only here, given to each of us, for a limited, precious, important, undetermined amount of time. We’d best not waste it.

Patience is a Virtue

I spend way too much time rushing through life. Achieving, accomplishing, worrying, Netflix-binging, trying to prove I’m valuable and worthy. What is it all for? In the hospital, you have a lot of time to stare at the wall, cursing your 4-day NG tube and dreaming about the food and drink you aren’t allowed to have because of your lazy bowels and debilitating nausea from bile build-up.

The things that really matter; those you love who love you with their whole-heart in return come to the forefront. The friends you can call and you know they will pick up your kids and love on them. The offers of support, love and encouragement from all over the place. That’s the important stuff right there. Not the to-do list and the being superwoman. Slowing things down was what I needed to see what really matters.

Receiving is as Crucial as Giving

I’m a giver. Always have been. Receiving feels uncomfortable and even selfish to me. So to be this ill, with my supportive and fabulous husband a province away when my surgery was happening meant that I had to receive from a variety of people. I had to let myself need others and it was an eye-opening, beautiful experience.

I told Jason not to fly back, but he was too worried and ignored me. So he came, to bring the kids to see me each day over the long weekend, and this was wonderful. But I also reached out to my mom and many friends for help and they gave it, with such abundance it was like a blooming flower garden in my own heart, where I could stop and smell and get lost in love and inspiration.

There are many more lessons, but I’ve wiped myself out typing this to hit my blog deadline for tomorrow so I shall stop. Plus I just saw a prisoner shuffle past my room in his flappy, vulnerable hospital gown and IV stand, two burly guards walking slowly beside him, the prisoner in leg chains. We are all humbled by the hospital, by our own weakness and frailty. We are levelled, brought out of our disguises and into our true selves. We are revealed to be both more than we thought and less. We are real, humble, true, honest. We are beautiful.