growth Archives - Julianne Harvey

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

Struggling

Julianne HarveyNovember 30, 2020November 30, 2020

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

Julianne HarveyFebruary 7, 2020February 7, 2020

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?

In Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Speaking

Enough

Julianne HarveyNovember 28, 2018

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.

In Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships

Essential Ingredients for a Thriving Marriage

Julianne HarveyApril 18, 2017

Anyone can be married, but to build a thriving, healthy, considerate give-and-take relationship takes constant effort and is a rare commodity in this world.

I’m immensely grateful for the marriage Jason and I have created over the last nineteen years. He is celebrating his 40th birthday this week and it felt like a good time to reflect on the ingredients that have made our marriage successful and satisfying.

Since my kids were little, I’ve hammered home the personality traits they should prioritize above all else when it comes time for them to decide on a marriage partner. The two essential qualities I’ve urged them to seek are kindness and a sense of humour.

Without a doubt, these two ingredients have been huge factors in the overall quality of our marriage. We both make each other laugh, every single day or pretty damn close, and a good laugh can help you get through the petty grievances of life. When you are truly relaxed with another person, accepted for your true self, it becomes easier to crack them up or to giggle yourself over stupid little things that might not be funny to anyone else.

Like humour, kindness greases the gears of the mundane to make every interaction more pleasant and enjoyable. It’s a worthwhile goal to treat your spouse with as much courtesy as possible, even if you might be irritated by them, for this politeness goes a long way in softening the atmosphere around you.

When Jason and I choose to be kind to each other above all else, intentionally curbing biting sarcasm or rude insults, we literally change the air around us and create a happy living environment daily for us and for our kids (not to mention friends and extended family and even strangers).

The other secret to our marriage is a willingness to grow and change. We offer each other permission to become the truest, most authentic versions of ourselves. When we are peacefully existing without disguises (or at least inching closer to this desire every day), bravely allowing our most vulnerable selves to be seen, we tend to evolve in a similar direction together.

We are still individuals, growing and changing separately, but our shared goals are more easily aligned and we are like unique flowers bending toward the same sun.

Being married to Jason has been the best experience of my life, without question. Saying yes when he asked me to marry him was the single decision that radically improved the course and trajectory of my life. I’m so proud of the quality of our family that we’ve built as a team. We are not simply existing in the same house together, but rather crafting a life with intentionality, purpose, forgiveness, laughter, kindness and loving care.

Happy 40th, my love. Here’s to a future that only burns brighter.

In Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth

My Son’s Gift

Julianne HarveyApril 4, 2017

William just celebrated his 11th birthday and I’ve been reflecting on how much our relationship has improved over the last 7 years.

I wrote extensively about the transformation in our relationship on my previous blog The Dream to Write (and some of it is covered in my essay collection Winter to Spring) but basically over a turbulent 6 month period when William was 4 and I was 37 we became restored to one other.

I just finished another edit of my unpublished manuscript Falling Backwards Into Grace and this section about William brings me to tears every time:

“William was the catalyst who forced me, kicking and screaming, to my knees. He eventually led me from performance to grace. My gratitude to my son is as limitless as the horizon of the sky; it goes on forever and will never reach an end, but of course I did not know that then.

In order to rebuild, we must first break down. When your faith and your worldview is built out of cards on quicksand like mine was, adding another flimsy layer will not address your mammoth foundation crisis. I had been adding more cards for so long that the whole structure was ready to collapse, and William’s personality was the match to light the flame and burn the whole useless thing to the ground.”

His refusal to bend to the pressure I placed on him saved me from my own invisible palace of denial, perfectionism and rage. He helped me warm up to my neglected personality qualities that had gone dormant but never fully disappeared. These qualities gave me back my authentic self.

I truly believe the best thing we can do as parents is to be open to truth, in any form, and be willing to let go of old ideas and fears that no longer add anything to our lives. This acceptance brings complete freedom, for it allows us to stop working for the approval of others and begin to finally own that right for ourselves.

William gave me this gift. It was the furthest thing from easy, but all lasting change brings agony at first. If you are in this kind of emotional pain right now, I urge you to keep going, for the only way out is through. Don’t retreat, longing for simpler shores. Keep trudging, for one day you will be different and so grateful you did not quit.

Happy Birthday, my wonderful boy. You’ve come a long way. I’m so proud of you. Marvellous things are ahead and I love that we will discover them together. I know that you can do hard things because I’ve seen you face them and conquer them already. It’s okay to be afraid. We are all afraid, but courage is your fear on the move.

If you are a parent, struggling with your beloved child, know that you are not alone. The meaning lives in the hardship and in the not knowing. Be open to owning your mistakes. Look for the truth beyond your limited interpretation of the events. Know that you and your kid are both good enough. You’ll make it through.

If you knew where William and I had once been – screaming at each other, fighting, fuming, accusing and blaming – you would be amazed at where we are now with our mother and son bond. Change and growth are entirely possible and I’m so thankful.