moving Archives - Julianne Harvey

In Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships, Writing

A Reprieve from Depression

Julianne HarveyDecember 13, 2016December 12, 2016

This fall, I experienced a prolonged depression. Other than when I had my soul breakdown in January 2010, I have not felt such all-consuming darkness until 2016.

Some things are too desperately intimate to write about until we have achieved a bit of distance from it. I’m learning now to walk through the worst of it with a few trusted confidantes, and only examine it when I feel more stable and sure. I’m definitely still not out of the woods yet, but it’s better now.

Anyone who has been depressed knows just how scary it can get. The sense of hopelessness and despair is all around you, with no reprieve in sight. Just getting through the day until you can sleep is like climbing a steep mountain in the dark when you don’t have the necessary survival supplies with you.

For me, it was a perfect storm of moving, being homeless for two months and living with my in-laws (who were gracious and kind with us in their space, but not having my own routines and home was tougher than I expected), getting the kids settled in new schools and Jason in a new job, plus recovering from my 8 day hospital stay after a ruptured appendix this summer.

Everything left me off-kilter, sad, lost and fearful. I had to acknowledge just how rough it had been, while still moving forward because the pace of life doesn’t gently slow to allow for ongoing quiet reflection. I found another gear to downshift into and simply keep going: painting our new place, buying groceries, writing, keeping up with friends…but all of it was shaded in grey and held no vibrancy or optimism in it.

I booked a phone call with my fabulous therapist in Alberta and she helped me sort out a lot of these complex emotions. We can’t run from what haunts us. It’s better to stop and face it, when we are able to, and feel it thoroughly so it releases its death grip on us. I needed to do this in a few areas. After weeping a gallon or so of hot tears, I could choose to let it go and make space for something new and better in its place.

The key ingredient I needed was rest. This is true for many of us. We are not machines and cannot go like the Energizer Bunny forever. Eventually we crash. It’s preferable to anticipate the impending breakdown and make a change before it happens. I needed to make the choice to slow down, both internally and externally. To journal. To sleep in on the weekend. To not have the answers. To say no to a few commitments and yes to a board game with my kids in my pajamas.

It’s so true that if we don’t have our health, we don’t have anything. And no one will look after it for us. That job falls to each of us. We get to choose what makes us happy and determine what is contributing to our ongoing grief and darkness. I am longing to move toward the light, in whatever form that takes. With people, with activities, with my own strength and courage.

Sometimes we simply have to survive these bleak and awful seasons, but if we want to thrive we must make space for our own souls. Less Facebook ranting and more kindness. Fewer nasty opinions on Twitter and more quiet winter walks where I can breathe the clean air and pray. We can make room for all of these big feelings without labelling them as bad or good. In making our way though it, we slowly find our way home, back to our truest, most authentic selves.

In Minimalism, Nurture, Personal Growth

The Dark Side of Change

Julianne HarveyOctober 25, 2016Leave a comment

The dark side of change happens just after the initial excitement dies down. Now you are in the middle of something foreign and strange, without the usual familiar landmarks.

I hate this part of the process. It’s necessary and cannot be avoided, but it’s also unsettling and awkward. I end up declaring that I’ve made a huge mistake, but then I realize that once again I’ve confused unfamiliarity with disaster.

Change is messy. It’s frustrating and awful and glorious, all at the same damn time. The only way I know to get through to the transformation is to trudge through the mud of the frightening middle. No shortcuts exist when we are trying to jumpstart our lives.

We moved this past weekend into our townhouse. As a family, we’ve embraced the ideals of minimalism, but I’ve discovered that it’s one thing to believe in a philosophy and another thing to put it into practice.

Downsizing from a five-bedroom home into a much-smaller three-bedroom townhouse is bloody hard. What looked sleek and clean after minimizing in my big house now appears cluttered and overstuffed in my new space, even after getting rid of lots of our possessions.

I hit several metaphorical walls as we moved in (not to mention literal ones when attempting to bring boxsprings up narrow staircases). I began longing for my big and comfortable house where I knew every inch of the space I had. I craved the familiar, the simple, the stress-free. I cried, a lot. I felt afraid that this move was never going to work and wondered if we could unpick everything that brought us to this point.

Sleep and time are two wonder cures for the exhausted mind and body. My instinct is often to rush, to unpack everything in a single day, to paint every room on all three floors instead of taking it wall by wall. I have trouble celebrating the progress that I make when there are still so many problem areas to solve.

Big change is not easy. If it were straightforward, everyone would be doing it. A provincial move is a stressful experience. The best we can do is be patient and gentle with ourselves while in the midst of so much uncertainty.

Everything we do involves both loss and gain. We say goodbye so that we can now say hello. We cry over what is gone but then we smile when we consider what is ahead. Just because it’s unfamiliar doesn’t mean it’s bad. It’s just not what we know, at least not yet.

I must give this move time. I cannot set the bar so high in terms of what I can get done in a day, a week or even an hour. Process is slow and messy and unpredictable. It’s okay to feel lost and unsure. This is part of being alive. Frailty and grief come with the package deal that is humanity.

When I’m overwhelmed, I will slow down. I will remind myself to breathe. To unclench and surrender to what I cannot possibly see coming. I’ll pet my cats and watch them sleep, for this is a spiritual practice.

The only way to get through the dark side of change is to soldier on. To laugh when the opportunities present themselves. To celebrate using weapons like sparkling wine and Halloween chocolate. To be when I feel more comfortable with the word “do”. To anticipate that some days are simply going to be hard as we make our way through big life transitions.

In Minimalism, Nurture, Personal Growth

Saying Goodbye

Julianne HarveyOctober 12, 2016Leave a comment

We returned to Alberta on Thanksgiving weekend to pack up our house and say goodbye to the satisfying life we had built there over the last decade.

Closing chapters is never easy. Mixed feelings always seem to accompany change. We are all excited about a new adventure in the south surrey area of BC, but packing up our house and getting it ready for the family that bought it meant a ton of tears.

I loved my house. We moved there when Ava was three and William just seven months old. They grew from babies and toddlers into the kids they are today in that hallowed space. Every room held memories, laughs, change, despair and growth.

When I reflect upon those years, I realize how different I am at the end of them compared to the beginning. I went through profound changes while in counselling six years ago. I got to practice being who I really am instead of contorting to fit everyone else’s perceived expectations on me. I walked away from people pleasing and a whole lot of destructive relationships. I stopped being so earnestly good and instead looked for a variety of ways to free myself from excess noise, possessions, busyness and stress.

Our lives are made up of beauty and loss. We can’t move on properly to the next stage if we refuse to leave the current one, but the actual transition is unsettling. I’ve come to expect this when I’m moving into something new, but it never seems to get easier. The throat gets tight, the tears itch at the back of my eyes, I realize I’m tense and snapping at everyone because I’m so sad and I don’t know quite what to do with those big feelings.

The only way out is through. Skirting or minimizing only prolongs the pain. If we don’t acknowledge it and feel it when it’s fresh, the sadness becomes trapped and messes with our future happiness.

Saying goodbye properly is a skill. It requires attention and care. We must mark the occasion in some significant way. I had a good cry with both of my kids as we remembered specific things from our ten years of living in our house. It was important and holy work, sitting on the carpet in an empty room and telling stories.

Accepting that it hurts helps us to let it go and move on to what’s next. Life is meant to be experienced in all of its forms. I am tired of living small and afraid. The world is a big place and I long to get out there into it. I want more adventures and fewer possessions. I yearn for freedom to be my true self, to explore, to discover, to love better and wider, to go bravely inward as I travel on my own unique path.

How do you say goodbye when a stage is finished in your life? Do you avoid it or embrace it?

In Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships

Suspended Between Two Worlds

Julianne HarveyJuly 19, 2016July 18, 2016Leave a comment

Do you ever feel suspended between two worlds? It’s an uncomfortable sensation; one that stretches you and asks you to be flexible.

Going with the flow is not my strong suit, but fighting against the river’s current is a losing proposition. It seems to always come back to surrender. Acceptance, optimism, courage: elements that make our lives easier if we agree to stop fighting for the outcome we desire and just let it be.

We are quite suddenly moving to the Vancouver area because my husband has taken a new job there. “Sudden” is a tough concept for a Type A planner like myself, but my chief goal for this move is to stay calm, to proceed in an orderly manner toward the red exit sign instead of causing a panicky stampede.

I’ve experienced some success with this serenity and also some serious failure (accompanied by swearing, tears and generalized rage). We met with the realtor and the stager, then worked flat-out for four days before the appointment with the photographer. Our house went on the market less than a week after we discussed it with the realtor.

This accelerated timeline has left me breathless and off-balance. I leaned on friends for help, a spiritual practice good for my overall health, but that sensation of being between two worlds is uncomfortable and stressful. It’s a growing place; one that asks you to summon forgotten reserves of strength and grace.

The key is to refuse to give in to the fear and the “what ifs”. What if the house doesn’t sell, what if the timelines don’t match up, what if the endlessly shifting dates get too crazy and I can’t count on anything? All useless questions, driven by fear and anxiety.

Every one of us has uncertainties to face. We can either panic or remain calm. We can be paralyzed by fear or choose to trust that we are going to be okay. I keep thinking about the 2010 movie title The Kids Are All Right. I’d rather put my faith in that idea as it brings me peace.

Change is beautifully invigorating. It’s also hard and filled with unknowns. Like so much of this life, those two disparate concepts work hand-in-hand. You don’t get inspiration without risk. You don’t get love without pain. You don’t get adventure without fear.

I’m determined to take this move one task at a time. To try to remember that I cannot see the finish line from my starting position. I just have to keep moving, completing lap after lap, knowing that as I inch nearer to the end I’ll gain the experience I need to complete this particular race. And then there will be another one to suit up for and run.

All of life works this way – for me, for you, for everyone. The bitter right alongside of the sweet. The sad goodbyes and the joyous hellos. One person, with a foot in two different worlds, doing his or her best to stay calm enough to survive the challenges of each particular transition.