Showing all posts tagged growth

In Books, Culture, Identity, Minimalism, Movies/TV, Nurture, Personal Growth, Politics, Writing

3 Words for 2026

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

Choosing words to focus on for my upcoming year is a favourite December practice for me. I find a time when I’m alone. I close my eyes, breathe deeply, and get quiet enough to listen to my intuition speak. I allow the words I want to rise to the surface of my consciousness, like something submerged in a pool that bobs up to the top.

Every year, I think maybe nothing will be there, but then, like magic, words arrive. This year, those words were: release, imagine, build. They might not be in that order when they initially appear, but when I look at the words, it’s usually easy to decide what comes first. In this case, I want to spend the first portion of 2026 releasing what doesn’t serve me, then imagine my way into new possibilities, before finishing the year by building on those dreams.

I anticipate that release will be the hardest challenge for me. I like to hold onto things. Grievances, irritations, certainties. From years of therapy and five decades of life experience, I know this isn’t a healthy pattern. Life ebbs and flows. Change is a guarantee. Month-by-month and year-by-year, we must re-evaluate what no longer works for us and choose to let some things go.

So I will practice the art of release. For a long time now, I’ve been trying to simplify everything. Minimalism has taught me that it’s better to want less than to have more. I’ve worked on being content with what I have instead of envying what other people have. This has been one of the best decisions of my life. But now, in 2026, I plan to identify and then release even more, so my life and my focus remains uncluttered. I know for sure that I can do anything but not everything, so I will make an effort to release what I no longer need to prioritise what matters most to me.

The second word, imagine, will be easier. I love to dream my way into new hopes and endeavours. I continue to long to form a production company, Ruby Finch Pictures, to turn my literary work into films and TV shows. I planned to do some of this imagining in 2025, but with my commitment to deeper, simpler, quieter this next phase of my career didn’t happen. But there’s time. I’m learning that there’s more time than I think, and slow growth is always preferable to no growth at all.

I’m also applying the word imagine to the murder mystery novel I’m aiming to finish this year, and the political journal I’ve been writing to help me process the endless nightmare of unfolding fascism and hate in our world. I think it falls to each one of us to imagine a healed society and planet. One where equality isn’t for rich or white people, but for every single person who has breath in their lungs. As human beings, we must be able to imagine something more inspiring than the current hierarchical and corporate systems we’ve been made to live under.

Then there’s the last word, build. It’s not enough simply to dream our way into things. We have to put foundations under it. We have to make peace with how slow and messy it can be to build anything that we hope will last. It never goes exactly as planned. I’m hoping to leave room in the building process to be inspired; to change my plans when something better comes along. I want to meet new people this year who might make excellent partners for me with my businesses but also just new friends to hang out with and learn from.

My overall word for 2026 is flexible. This will be a huge challenge for me, because I tend to be rigid as a coping mechanism for life. But I’m going to try to hold looser to everything and everyone. I will continue to practice receiving care and nurture from others, and remember my counsellor’s advice to DO LESS because I tend to over-function and then get resentful.

It’s a whole new year, which offers each of us a fresh chance to try again. To be gentler, with ourselves and others. To have more fun. To laugh every day. To feel afraid and do things anyway. To invest in community care the way we invest in self-care. Here’s to 2026. May it be bright, beautiful, and generous. May each one of us work to make it so.

In Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships

It’s Never About the Cat Food

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

Jason had a long and busy season of work travel this spring, where he was away from home for nearly a full month. In between one of these week-long work trips, he flew home for three days before leaving again. On the Friday he was home, I said, “I could use your help refilling this bag of cat food from the huge bag upstairs as it’s easier to pour it with two people than for me to scoop it on my own.”

He said, “No problem,” but by Sunday night, the small bag still hadn’t been refilled. We were in the kitchen, getting ready to go upstairs to bed, and I sighed. “I guess I’ll be filling that bag of cat food on my own, because it’s the end of the weekend and you’ll be flying out again tomorrow.”

He went upstairs. I was a few minutes behind him, as I saw a text from my daughter that I wanted to respond to. While I was answering a couple of her questions on my phone, I could hear the noisy sounds of Jason scooping out dry kibble from one bag into another. By the time I climbed the stairs, I saw that he had placed the refilled bag onto my pillow.

I was mad. So was he. And this fight wasn’t about the cat food. It’s never about the cat food.

If you’ve been married for a long time, nearly three decades in our case, you begin to recognise the trigger points that exist between you. When I stated that I’d be filling the bag of cat food on my own, he heard it as an attack on him. He was stressed, and tired, and what could’ve been a calm discussion between us quickly escalated into a war.

The next day, as I drove him to the airport, I found myself crying. I told him that he hurt my feelings with the way he refilled the bag and left it on my pillow. He said that I had been passive aggressive with my tone, and that I didn’t ask him directly to do the job.

I realised that when I said I’d be doing the job on my own, what I was really saying was that I wish he didn’t have to leave again. That I felt raw and vulnerable, offering support to my kids and to him and longing for some of that support to come back to me. I want to be able to rely on my husband for help, as we are in a new phase of a long relationship where I’m improving at receiving care from him and he’s improving at giving more emotional nurture to me.

He cannot be expected to get all of that from, “I guess I’ll be filling that bag of cat food on my own.” But sometimes we say that instead of the really true thing, because what I felt was so much bigger and harder to admit. Telling someone we rely on them and we will miss them is a tender thing to say out loud, especially when I used to be skilled at pretending to be fine all the time, even when I was actually lonely and sad and lost.

He listened to me pour out my heart on that drive to the airport, and he apologised. He still had to get on a plane and leave for a week, but I felt lighter knowing that I hadn’t abandoned myself during this argument. I took the time to ask myself what was really going on here, and felt curious about why I was so sad and wounded by his actions.

I feel like I’m in a new phase of growth right now, where I’m committed to advocating for myself, even when I feel pressured to return to old, familiar, comfortable patterns in my relationships. I didn’t use to ask for help. I wore my ability to “do it all” as a badge of honour, while privately nursing my growing resentments toward my loved ones. I don’t want to do that anymore.

This new way is vulnerable. It requires me to admit that I need other people, and it means I’m responsible to initiate the hard conversation when I’ve been hurt. But now, Jason and I have discovered a new shorthand to represent the old relationship patterns compared to the healthier ones we are creating: It’s never about the cat food.

In Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Travel

Another Bridge to Take

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

In the song “This Ain’t Goodbye” by Train, there’s a lyric that brings me to tears. Every time he sings, “Another bridge to take on the way to letting go” I think about how hard it is to release my grip when I want something to stay the same.

But as we all know, life means change. Stages and seasons and growth and pain and learning to let go, over and over and over again. I really kind of hate this. You’d think we’d get better at this as we age, but some things give me a lump at the base of my throat, and keep me awake at night, and cause me to cry when I least expect them to.

One of those things is my youngest child graduating from high school. William has his school dinner/dance this weekend, and his commencement ceremony in a few weeks. This is a big bridge to take. When Ava graduated three years ago, I thought to myself, “William is only in grade nine. There’s lots of time left with a kid at home.”

And now the day is almost here. It’s a time to celebrate all that he’s achieved, and how bright his future looks ahead of him, but as the mom and dad, it’s also a time to grieve the end of his childhood. I’m really feeling the truth of the saying, “When raising children, the days are long but the years are short.”

With all of these significant life transitions (or another bridge to take on the way to letting go), I do my best to prepare emotionally ahead of time. I really do. But there’s anticipation, and then there’s experience. The two are never the same thing, which is another thing I hate because I have no choice but to walk through it when the time comes. Advance preparation only gets me so far, and then the only way out is ever through.

Another one of these bridges I had to take this month was when Ava decided to fly to New York City on her own and stay in a shared-room hostel near Central Park. We suggested she go with a friend, but after our family Europe adventure last summer she wanted to try a solo trip. In theory, I thought this was a fabulous idea, and very brave when you are only twenty-one. In reality, I worried about her until she arrived home safely—feet sore from walking the city at all hours and full to the brim with excitement and stories and joy from managing everything on her own.

These are important foundational experiences for our children to undertake. They have to learn that the world is a big place and they can be smart and travel safely within it. But for the parents, this involves a lot of letting go. Of being there when our kids need us, but not taking over every arrangement so they have their own chance to lead and to shine. It’s exciting. And hard. It requires us to give up some semblance of control, and to lean into trusting our grown kids.

I’m taking a lot of bridges right now, with both of my kids, and I’m slowly (so slowly!) learning to let go of them. Like so many parents, I’m proud, and I’m sad, and I’m a bit lost, and I’m celebrating at exactly the same time. We never stop learning how to adjust to these changing seasons.

Happy graduation weekend to you, William! Congratulations, and we love you.

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

Struggling

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

How are you doing this fall? I’m struggling.

I keep telling myself it will be better when I get some space to relax. When I have less to do and fewer deadlines to meet. But that never seems to happen. I finish one “must-complete” project and there’s ten more after it. The space to process my feelings doesn’t appear, so I remain sad and frustrated.

I’ve been working with a new counsellor for the last few weeks. It’s helping, in that I feel less alone and it’s lovely to hear new coping strategies from her, but it’s also not helping, because I feel like I’m only two steps in while attempting to climb Mount Everest.

In these challenging seasons, everything feels much harder than it should. I’m sick of only seeing shades of grey where I used to see vibrant colour. I’m bored of feeling sad and flat where once I felt hopeful and at peace.

I know this will pass. But that doesn’t really help on the shittiest days. It’s too far away to count. It’s an idea, not a reality. Asking for help in the form of counselling was difficult for me, because it meant admitting that I’m lost and don’t know where to go from here. I kept telling myself that I’ve had loads of therapy and I should know better. That’s when I knew I was in trouble.

This pandemic is dragging on forever. Not just for me, but for everybody. We all long for some kind of certainty and normalcy, if for no other reason than to just feel stable again. It’s exhausting looking into the future and only seeing a long series of question marks. Part of me knows there’s no real certainty, but in a pandemic this fact becomes crystal clear, with very little to hide or obscure it.

It’s so easy to tell someone else that the struggle is where the growth is found. No cost is associated with saying those words, but in the Mondays and Tuesdays of our lives it just plain hurts to feel you are in the dark. We set up our Christmas trees last week and when the lights come on in the late afternoon, I feel a tiny dart of joy, because for a few hours the darkness is pushed away.

The only way out is through. It’s one foot in front of the other, with additional grace and kindness to get me through these days. I’m tired. I miss my cat, Little Rose, who died in September. I feel adrift and sad. I think the key is to say it out loud; to let these emotions bloom in the dark instead of trying to pretend they aren’t there. Reaching out to other people helps. So does making space to journal, meditate, walk, breathe, create.

It’s a hard season, friends. What are you doing to look after yourself at the end of this pandemic year?

In Culture, Identity, Minimalism, Nurture, Personal Growth, Politics, Speaking, Writing

3 Words for 2020

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

Smaller. Braver. Justice. These are my 3 words for 2020. (Yes, I’m aware I missed writing this post in January, but it’s still early in the new decade, right? Or so I tell myself.)

I’ve been picking 3 words as a focus for my year since 2016. I learned this practice from the fabulous Sarah Bessey, who usually chooses one word for her year. One word didn’t seem like enough to me (plus I couldn’t narrow it down), so I picked 3.

At the end of each year, lit by the Christmas tree in the dewy darkness of December, I close my eyes and wait for words to develop on the screen of my mind. This year they came as softly as ever, but quickly, like staccato notes.

Smaller.

I’m determined to stop waiting for some future idea of success. I no longer want a huge reach on social media or to be a famous writer with a 7-figure book advance (well, I mostly don’t yearn for the enormous book deal). My goal is to return to a smaller sphere of influence. To be content with a small yet satisfying life. I want to stop believing that all of the good stuff is out there in the world and I have to chase it down. When I choose to summon gratitude for the people and the experiences that are already in my small circle, it’s actually abundant and joyful. By the end of 2020, I want to really know that a smaller life is more than enough.

Braver.

I’ve been working on courage for a long time. More confidence to speak up and use my voice. I’ve come a long way from the timid mouse I used to be, but this year I long to go even further. To use my privilege to benefit those who need more advocacy. My goal is to stop obsessing that I might be stepping out of line or rocking the boat. When I hear something offensive, I’m trying to speak up. Intuition is a powerful force, but it doesn’t work if we don’t use it. When I’m in a situation that doesn’t feel right, I’m planning to utilize my bravery more. Even when it’s uncomfortable. Especially when it’s uncomfortable. This is how we move forward as a society. We need all of the voices. All of the courage. Together we can make a bigger impact.

Justice.

Which leads me to justice. For quite a few years now, I’ve been gathering my sensibilities around fairness and equality, but I’ve been doing this quietly. Now, in 2020, it feels like the right time to speak out. To write about the issues that are near and dear to me, even if they upset some people. It’s okay for others not to agree. That’s what freedom looks like. What’s not okay is to be too afraid to speak up. The stakes are high. It’s time. My hope is that my smaller life will help me become braver, which will prompt me to speak up for justice in a clear voice. I often remind myself that courage doesn’t mean you aren’t afraid. It simply means you go ahead and act anyway.

What are your words for 2020? What areas of growth do you plan to focus on in our fresh new decade of possibility?