isolating Archives - Julianne Harvey

Do you ever have trouble finding the words for the big conversations? You know, the ones where you long to communicate some deep truth, pulled from the centre of your being with a huge effort, where it feels like you are standing completely naked in front of the other person?

I’m struggling with this. I feel so utterly changed by the last four weeks of my life, but yet unable to properly talk about it with those I love most. I’ve turtled up inside, processing and going dark to the outside world.

This is likely a necessary step, and healthy, but it’s also a tiny bit isolating. It creates a gap between you and the people in your life. I know I have the right to say I’m not ready to talk about things, and this might be the best solution until I feel more sure of what it is I want to say, but the big conversations in life always leave me slightly terrified.

So much of our existence is regular routine. Only when it’s disrupted do we see things in a new way. And we realize that we are also irrevocably altered.

I learned this phrase from Rob Bell’s recent podcast on Seasons (and if you aren’t listening to all of Rob Bell’s podcasts, please rectify this immediately as they will immensely improve your quality of life): liminal space. It means the middle space; when one stage is completed and the next has yet to begin.

I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear the phrase “liminal space”. I love it and plan to overuse it from this point forward. It explains so much of that waiting bit at the centre of big change. It’s transition, uncertainty, fear, loss, excitement. You know you don’t want to go back but you can’t quite move forward as the next chapter hasn’t revealed itself.

Perhaps it’s not a good idea to commit to much in the liminal space. It’s for waiting and growing and shifting. It requires an openness to what will now be different. We can’t forecast what the next season will look like while we are still moving through the loss of what came before. We simply have to wait.

Have I mentioned that I hate waiting? This appendectomy and its long, slow crawl back to my previous healthy state has invited me every single day to be patient. To stop accomplishing and just sit in my new and tired state in my comfy shorts that don’t hurt my stitches. The whole world seems different as a result. It may still be whizzing by, along with everyone around me, but I am in a separate place and I can’t keep up. Nor do I really want to.

I do feel marked in some invisible way. I can see it, but no one else really can. I guess the prescription is more waiting. I must allow this growth to bud in its own time. There is no point to rushing it or shouting something from the rooftops that I barely understand for myself. Some things should be private, particularly in the liminal space.

If you are in a transition point right now, let’s wait it out together. We can reassure each other that we won’t be in this middle space forever. The new season will begin to take shape. We will survive the transition. We have the ability to let go of the last place where we were either happy or sad (or more likely a mix of both). It will simply take a little bit of time. Sit with me in the garden and we’ll encourage each other through this liminal space.

Nurture doesn’t exist without unconditional love. Without it, nurture is a business exchange: I’ll give you care and attention and in return you will do the same for me.

I’ve been ruminating on the phrase “nurture is valuable” since January. I’ve thrown out a call to women to answer interview questions on the topic and I’ve received nine sets of answers so far. Not one of these answers has been identical, so clearly it’s a huge topic with a wide variety of experiences and nuances.

Personally, I have a love/hate relationship with the word nurture. Sometimes it sounds weak to me, and I grew up despising all forms of weakness. At other times the word feels soft, warm and approachable, but this is also foreign and uncomfortable in a vague, undefined way.

In my heart, I’ve always been naturally drawn to nurture but it took me a while to build up the courage to admit this. I’ve longed to cultivate it and see it grow, even when I didn’t have many examples of it to learn from. I think it was a seed, hard and unwatered, that took decades of dormancy before it could bloom.

When Ava was born thirteen years ago, like many new parents, I began to understand for the first time what unconditional love might actually look like. I only glimpsed it in fits and starts – it would take me another seven years to finally put it into practice with the help of my counsellor.

I needed to allow my perfect facade to fall to the ground and shatter before I could embrace the messy agony of my own vulnerable humanity. For me, this was the start of unconditional love. It was awful at first; isolating and uncertain. It required me to offer so damn much of myself – initially to my children, then to my husband, my friends and some extended family members.

True nurture doesn’t allow us to hide who we really are. Its price tag is steep for a reason: we have no guarantee that our affection and care will be returned in the same measure it is given. The key is to replenish our own tank by offering unconditional love back to ourselves so we can continue to pour it out to those we love. Without self-care, nurture is a temporary proposition. You will burn out if you don’t know how to refuel.

Nurture has so many elements. I look forward to diving in deeper to this topic over the summer. I’d love to hear from more of you on this. If you consider yourself a nurturer in any way at all, please get in touch to answer five short questions for my research project.

I do believe nurture is valuable and that it only succeeds from a place of unconditional love. This makes it risky and powerful. We give without any assurance that we will receive it back. We must look after ourselves in order to nurture others. My dream is to build a community of nurturers who can encourage, support and care for one another. Without nurture, our world is a cold, terrifying and desperate place.

Would you like to be involved? Get in touch and let’s unpack some of these ideas together!

Showing all posts tagged isolating

Liminal Space

Nurture is Valuable: Unconditional Love