alone Archives - Julianne Harvey

In Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Spiritual Life, Writing

Retreat

Julianne HarveyJune 20, 2017

Everyone can benefit from a retreat, but women in particular are in need of a getaway to refresh and refuel from their daily work of giving and sacrifice.

Last week I took myself to a small town in Washington state for a one-night writing retreat as I’m trying to finish my current manuscript before the kids are home for the summer. I booked it weeks ago, hoping for an ocean view room as nothing sparks creativity better than the sight and sound of the waves.

I waited until the kids were both home from school in the mid-afternoon so I could kiss them and hug them and say goodbye in person, then I jumped in my car and drove across the border with a light heart and a blanket sense of joy and peace.

The whole thing felt RIGHT. I used to plan writing retreats for groups in June at a Bed and Breakfast until the place we went to was sold and I didn’t muster up enough energy to find a new one. A couple of years went by and I didn’t go away on my own to write. Last week I realized just how much I’d missed it.

I popped into a local grocery store and took my time wandering the aisles, choosing food for one person for the next three meals. It was like playing house. Never has grocery shopping been so fun, with only my tastes and preferences to consider.

I checked in around 5 pm, unpacking and heading outside to my tiny deck to soak up my scrap of ocean view. I brought my writing binder outside and got down to work, luxuriating in the sense of being alone and doing my favourite activity on earth in a beautiful location.

We all need to make time and space in our schedules to retreat from our daily lives. This one-night stay felt profound to me, for it signified that I was worth the expense of this short trip. I used to talk myself out of these kinds of luxuries, figuring there was something more worthwhile to spend money on. But now I’m realizing that the freedom and joy I experienced while I was away has no price tag. It’s valuable beyond measure.

If you are a woman who gives to others and doesn’t refill her tank with activities she loves, consider this a gentle nudge to take yourself on a retreat. Even if it’s a solitary walk for an hour, build a sense of retreat into your life. Your spouse and your kids will thank you as you will be returning to them as your very best self, refreshed and ready for what comes next.

My one-night retreat was a week ago and I still feel utterly calm and balanced as a result of taking some time out just for me. I got a lot of work done, I consumed delicious food and drink, I slept in, I walked along the water’s edge, I soaked up the silence and I poured my heart out onto the page. And when I returned home I was changed for the better because I valued myself enough to go away on a retreat that was custom designed for me.

Where are you going on retreat and how will you fill your soul while you are away?

In Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships

Broken, Cracked Souls

Julianne HarveyNovember 22, 2016Leave a comment

Once upon a time there was a girl who wanted to be loved. She longed to fill every broken and cracked room in her soul with affection, warmth and care.

She felt empty. Damaged. Alone in a large and intimidating world. When this girl looked to the adults who were supposed to be in charge, she didn’t feel safe. They were drinking, fighting, manipulating, lying, hiding and punishing with bitter silences.

The girl ached for truth. She wanted to know what was right and wrong by watching it in action, not hearing about it in words, for the actions did not match the fancy, dressed-up lingo.

Over time, this girl learned to deny her own desires for love, honesty and kindness. She made her reality fit with her yearnings, even when the two things were oceans apart. She compromised, crammed, altered and minimized. In this way she could survive her own sensitivities to pain, darkness, fear and secrets.

Then the girl grew into an adult. By now her denial was as natural as the breaths she took, without once pausing to consider the function that her breath and denial played. She went to school, she worked, she fell in love, she got married, she had kids, she joined the PTA. The girl was now a woman, sleepwalking through her days and nights, frozen in her buried feelings, lying the same way her parents taught her to.

When the girl was 37 years old she finally woke up. The agony of feeling those emotions was excruciating, but at least now she could tell she was alive. She learned that minimizing your feelings leads to rage on a slow boil, so fucking toxic that it will eventually consume you if you don’t face it head on and call it by its proper name.

The girl found people who taught her how to love and how to be loved. It was foreign and exhilarating and awful. It was vulnerable, the only place she ever experienced actual freedom and truth. It took every ounce of bravery and trust she could summon. Every single day she had to find the strength to do it all again, but it was better than the frigid numbness of the first half of her sleeping life.

Now the girl could show her children a new path: one that embraced the entire feeling spectrum. This was big and expansive and wide by comparison. She could lean in and love with her whole heart. She could practice relying on others, not the ones who had routinely let her down, but a fresh set of people who proved worthy by their actions instead of their meaningless promises. Now the girl could breathe.

She could create for herself what her family of origin could not give her, either in her childhood or now. The cracks in her soul would heal but never disappear. They were reminders of what she had overcome, hopeful markers for those in desperate need of light and redemption. The girl had a dream to bring these broken and cracked souls together, to one place of nurture and belonging, so they could love one another back to life and know they weren’t alone any longer.

In Identity, Personal Growth, Relationships, Writing

The Shift

Julianne HarveyJanuary 19, 2016January 17, 2016Leave a comment

When a shift in how we understand something happens, it’s often unsettling. It’s a private thing, especially at first, because it takes time to understand what’s changed and until we get clearer, we find it hard to talk about it.

This is a normal part of change, but I really do hate it. I’m trying to come to terms with that off-putting sensation of not quite belonging anywhere. I feel like I’m at odds with myself when I’m sorting through these rough patches. The work is all internal and therefore not easy to categorize or understand, and so a certain loneliness tinges the entire process.

I love the epiphany itself and I’ve been through this enough to know that the eventual result will be worth it. But that damn middle section is a huge pain.

It helps to realize that privately nurturing these small seeds of growth is both valuable and important. It’s part of the process. The challenging bit is seeing the world in a different way, but still living as if the epiphany hadn’t occurred. It requires patience to manage these shifts in understanding. We have to be gentle with ourselves, the way we would treat a child going through a major transition.

I get trapped up in the middle sections of change. I feel lost, bereft, alone. It’s easy to feel misunderstood, like the ground is no longer solid under your feet but it’s not quite clear where your next step should take you.

I know that something big is happening for me in these uncertain places. I’ve been here before and I’m certain I’ll be here again. Anyone willing to risk by growing and changing will feel some of this unsettled discomfort. It’s the stretch before the new thing fully reveals itself. It gets dark in this unfamiliar terrain, with accusing doubts whispered into your ear. “Who are you to try for this? No one else thinks this is a good idea! If this was so great, more people would be on board.”

When we make decisions based on what other people might say, we are sunk before we get moving. It’s a losing game, and I know this, but far too often I start to play it when the doubts get loud. The key is to stay the course, to allow the passion to ignite into flame, to tamp down the fear and keep putting one foot in front of the other.

It’s okay to be the only one who initially believes in something. The rest of the world is busy with their own stuff. If it brings life to your soul and hope to your spirit, pursue it. Make your way bravely through the middle ground of the shift. Fight the insecurity and the doubt. Emerge on the other side, into the sun, knowing that you will never be the same. That alone is enough reward.