Enough

Enough

In 2018, I was determined to live into the idea of being enough. To slow down, to settle in, to rest in the notion that more of anything was not the answer to this particular question. What I needed was to look around and appreciate what I already had.

I experienced varying degrees of success with this goal. Overall, when I look back over the last year, I can see that I’ve made progress. Like all growth, it’s slow and messy and often gruesomely ugly. But it’s there.

We were in Victoria last weekend for me to speak at a teachers’ conference, and on the ferry home I watched Jason lean forward to whisper something to Ava. She pushed her headphones back to listen, then she smiled. William stopped whatever he was doing and inched closer to hear the exchange. I didn’t hear what was said and it doesn’t matter, but in that second my priorities shifted and crystallized to reveal to me that I am enough for them and they are enough for me.

Those of us with less-than-stellar childhoods tend to work ourselves to the bone for the approval of others. We can feel like frauds, or like we don’t belong in certain company, and this “otherness” drives us to prove that we belong. In essence, we are constantly striving to earn our keep, but unconditional love doesn’t require a list of our accomplishments. It says, “You are enough, just because you exist. You matter regardless of how thick or thin your resume is. Come in, sit by the fire, get warm and cozy. You are safe here.”

My whole life I’ve been waiting to have those words sink into my soul and remain there. I said them for decades, but failed to believe them. I poured the idea of being enough into a bucket but the bucket was shot through with holes: insecurity, fear, shame, imposter syndrome, competition. It’s taken me a long time and a shitload of effort to plug those holes so the water will hold for a bit in the pail. This is the work of a lifetime, but inching closer feels damn good.

I’m going to turn 46 very soon. Being halfway through life (if I’m fortunate) offers a meaningful perspective. I don’t want to waste more time worrying about what I can’t control. It’s time to  stop incessantly striving toward my goals without pausing to enjoy what I’ve achieved to this point. I want the courage to just be the person I’ve fought so hard to be. And know that this is more than enough.

Recalibrate

Recalibrate

My word for the summer has been recalibrate. Not in any scientific form, but a subtle yet intentional change to the way I function in the world.

The greatest aspect of this particular recalibration has been the decision to step back and allow the process to unfold organically. In previous versions of my self development, I’ve tended to force, cajole, urge and shame my change into being. I wanted it done now, dammit, and a specific way.

Not this summer. I felt inspired by a Facebook post from my friend in late June that said, “You have 18 summers with your kids. Don’t waste them.” I took these words to heart. I stopped looking at leisure time as wasted time. I mixed work with play and I felt a lot more relaxed and content.

This recalibration took the form of my general attitude shifting from something set into something more fluid. I tried to take things as they happened, as opposed to forecasting and planning too far into the future. I wrote in my journal a lot, without trying to be fancy or inspired. I just recorded what I was feeling and this practice helped me to slow down internally.

I’ve realized that the process of querying agents and facing a ton of rejection has tampered down my capacity to take risks and to write for the sheer joy of telling a story without thinking about whether or not that work can be published. I’ve just begun two university courses for the fall and both are centred on writing. I’m determined to challenge myself to grow in these courses and not expect that I’ll be the most stellar writer in the class.

Hopefully my spiritual recalibration this summer will offer me a fresh dose of grace and gentleness toward the writing that I do. In this season, I hope to simply be a better version of myself and write from that place with lowered expectations for jaw-dropping genius and a place on the New York Times Bestseller List.

One of my words for 2018 was enough. I can see how this word has been working on me over the last few months. I am enough, just as I am, and so are you. It’s easy to get stuck in a pattern of proving our worth, but this striving brings pain, shame and loss. Feeling like we are enough is a challenge, but it’s well worth the effort.

Part of recalibrating my attitude involves surrendering once again to the flow of this life. Forcing my hoped-for expectations on myself or others or situations is a fool’s errand. I long to swim with the current and not against it. Take it one day at a time, as the recovery movement teaches. Anything else is too uncertain and fraught with peril.

What we have is now. We have the people we love most. We have our own deep well of personality to excavate and mine. We have the chance for contentment, hope and peace. We have kindness, shown first to our fragile selves and then to the world around us. My soul recalibration this summer has given me a fresh perspective on all of these things. Knowing I am enough is a daily battle, but I will fight it, for these moments are precious ones and I want to be fully awake to experience them.

Lessons Learned from my Appendix Rupture

Lessons Learned from my Appendix Rupture

One year ago my appendix ruptured and my whole life changed.

With the most significant events and milestones in our lives, we need time to truly understand and appreciate how these tragedies define and alter us. My surgery and complicated eight-day recovery in the hospital taught me the beautiful art of surrender. I had the chance to practice letting go of what I wanted in order to embrace what was actually happening.

This deliberate act of remaining present has changed the trajectory of my last year. It taught me to recognize what really matters to me and to stop stressing over the little annoying parts of daily existence.

Measured from August to August, we’ve had massive upheaval as a family. We sold a house in Alberta and bought a townhouse in BC. Jason started a new job. We lived with my in-laws for two months. Ava and William changed schools and left their friends behind. Nearly everything looks different a year later.

But it’s my internal changes that have shocked me the most. Fundamentally, I am different. The specific insecurities and fears that I have wrestled with forever have been sublimated and conquered. Surviving those long, lonely days in the hospital when I was getting worse and not better showed me what I’m truly made of. I proved something to myself that I couldn’t talk myself into; I had to live it out, minute by minute, under adverse circumstances in order to put this worthiness garbage to bed once and for all.

I didn’t get a choice about how sick I was last summer and how shitty the timing was, with Jason working in BC and most of my friends out of town for the August long weekend. But I can honestly say, one year later, just how grateful I am for what I learned in that dark corner bed at the Peter Lougheed Hospital in Calgary.

Deciding not to feel less-than and unworthy of love any more was lesson number one. Recognizing that Jason, Ava and William are the most important people in my life was lesson number two. And finally seeing that I am capable and strong was lesson number three.

Each of these lessons has drastically improved the daily quality of my life. I’m no longer lost in a fog of longing for what I do not have or regret for what I cannot go back and change. Now I’m choosing to stay present, with those I love and with the exciting possibilities present in each day I’m alive, knowing that I am enough for any challenge or setback that comes my way.

This confidence is foreign and yet so welcome and inspiring. I am enough. And so are you. 

Living as if anything else is true is to waste precious time. Let’s stop doing that. It’s as simple as making a decision. Decide what is most important to you, who is most important to you, and know that you are competent for any task that comes your way. It’s life changing.

You Are Enough

I’m in need of some personal encouragement, so I thought I’d remind myself of a few basic truths in this space and hope it helps some of you out at the same time. I’m going to write in the second person because it increases the likelihood that I will actually listen, for I can trick myself into thinking someone else is soothing me. Give it a try. It works wonders.

Here we go:

You are enough. It’s not necessary to prove your worth to anyone, for any reason. No more striving, hustling, defending. Instead, practice the art of stillness, of simply sitting in the beautiful mess that makes up your existence.

You are not behind. I know it feels like you are. Our culture continually reminds us that we are not as accomplished, thin, attractive, rich, intelligent or popular as we long to be. But you are right on time. You have important lessons to be learned in the exact place where you find yourself. Slow down and try to notice more. Something is happening in your life and it matters.

You are important. Your value does not go up if you are successful or plummet if you fail. You are worthwhile, all the time, at every single moment, because you have been given the momentous gift of life and breath and possibility. Don’t allow yourself to live as if you are small and worthless. This mistaken belief degrades all of the talents, joy, generosity and purpose you possess. Other people love you. Be sure to love yourself.

You are unique. Comparing to others is a dead-end road for happiness. Refuse to do it. Get off social media. Write something instead, or paint, garden, walk, bake, swim, play music, jump on a trampoline. Go outside. Watch a sunset. Breathe slowly and intentionally. Remember the simple pleasures of this life and return to a time when you were blissfully unaware of what other people were doing because the damn internet hadn’t been invented yet.

You are enough. Remind yourself of this honest truth, every single day. You matter, you are valuable, you are not falling behind, and you are a one-of-a-kind model. Don’t forget that the cracks are how the light gets in. You are not broken. You are enough and you are loved.

Showing Up is Brave

Showing Up is Brave

Often we think it’s the big gesture that counts as bravery, but it’s not. Showing up is enough. It means we are invested in developing our own courage and that we care enough to be present with other people.

My beloved hero Anne Lamott says, “The people who show up are inevitably the right ones.” The older I get, the more strongly I adhere to this truth. When life is hard and we feel beaten down, we demonstrate bravery when we simply show up.

This week I fly to Edmonton to present three sessions at a teachers’ convention (the first of three I will be speaking at this February and March). I love speaking, particularly when the message I’m delivering is one I believe to the core of my soul, but that doesn’t mean my knees won’t still knock together when I stand in front of 200+ teachers and attempt to keep them engaged and interested for an hour.

When I feel nervous, I repeat Rob Bell’s mantra, “Butterflies mean you are in the game.” I’m challenging myself by submitting speaking proposals all over the place and when I get offered contracts, I have to believe that just showing up is what I’m called to do. It’s brave enough just to do the best I can.

I adore the song in La La Land that Emma Stone’s character sweetly sings for courage in one key audition scene. She sings, “Here’s to the ones who dream, foolish as they may seem, here’s to the hearts that ache, here’s to the mess we make.” So incredibly beautiful, inspiring and true to my experience.

It’s normal for our hearts to ache and for our dreams to seem impossibly big and hard to achieve. But when we take small steps toward our highest hopes and aspirations, these moments are for celebrating. I’m really working on it being enough, exactly as the journey unfolds, instead of keening for better, different, more extravagant.

Does it seem easier just to show up? It does to me, for it means that the analysis of what I’m presenting or writing or creating is not up to me. The audience gets to decide if it meets their needs or fails to meet their expectations. My part of the bargain is to be prepared, to show up and say what I have to say. I’m going to trust that it’s enough.

If you have something to do that scares you, know that you are on the right track. You can do the things you don’t think you are ready for. You’ll never feel completely ready. At a certain point, you have to jump. This is how you stave off boredom and stagnation – you follow your curiosity and stay ahead of your own comfort level. That’s the growing zone. It’s where we feel most alive.

Try it. Believe that you will have what it takes at the moment you are thrust into the challenging situation. You won’t have any assurances while you are thinking about it and preparing for it. You’ll just have to trust that you will be up to the task. That’s what I’m doing, and so far it’s working. Showing up is brave. It feels like soaring when you’ve proven to yourself that you do, indeed, have what it takes.