The Key to Personal Freedom

The Key to Personal Freedom

Freedom from other people’s approval is an ongoing struggle for many of us, but when we experience small victories it’s important to step back and take stock of just how far we have come.

I used to crave approval like it was a drug. I was only okay if someone else gave me permission. The entire world looked different when I realized that I could give myself the approval I yearned for instead of searching for it from others.

It’s helpful with all growth to measure it in tiny incremental steps. Something in our human nature wants instant gratification (a condition only worsening with the internet available in our pocket, where any touch of a button yields immediate results) so anything less feels like failure. But the only way to sustain change is to approach it in little ways that don’t completely overwhelm us.

the-key-topersonal-freedomA person was angry with me recently and I didn’t become unhinged like I would have a few years ago. I was able to breathe through my anxiety and halt any developing shame spirals. I said calmly to myself, “I’m allowed to own my feelings and actions and this person is allowed to own theirs. We don’t have to agree. I’m okay.”

This type of positive self talk is huge in recovery from people pleasing. It takes us down off the ledge, turning mild hysteria magically back into tranquility. It felt so good to see how far I have come with my new and healthier skills. The exchange I had with this person knocked me off my stride for ten minutes instead of ten days, months or even decades.

The key to personal freedom is incremental growth. It’s one small alteration at a time, which over years adds up to a big difference in a moment of stress when you really need it. When a person can no longer push your buttons and get the expected reaction from you, you’ll know you have cut the cord and broken free. Now you are fully in charge of your own reactions and emotions, but this wouldn’t have happened for me without all of the hard soul work that came before.

We are all human. We make mistakes. We can become mired in a swamp of other people’s approval and get stuck, spinning our wheels and stewing over what other people are doing. But we can also make different choices, on any given day, and start to build a bridge to our own freedom. We can say, “This is unacceptable. I am worth more than this. I want kindness, honesty and love with no strings attached.”

We can stand up for ourselves and taste how joyful that feeling is. We are not responsible for other people’s happiness. Only our own. And getting to that understanding in our actual experience is what sets us free.

Rekindling Hope

Rekindling Hope

When hope rekindles where you once felt empty and bereft, it’s like coming alive again. It’s the first twitch in your fingers, signalling that your coma is ending and you are returning to a state of normalcy again.

These last three months have been a true slog. Unpredictable, scary, lonely, exciting and sad, all boiled up together in a stew of change.

Every day, I tell myself to be kind and gentle in order to survive a seriesrekindling-hope of hurdles to my preferred stable routines, but the relief of finally being in our own space again this past week has loosened something primitive in me. I’ve become unhinged, crying at random intervals and experiencing a near-catatonic internal state as a reaction to rising panic and dread.

I felt certain that my growth work of the last few years had been tragically reversed by this provincial move. I craved the order and calm I fought so hard to establish in Alberta, but it has eluded me at every turn since we’ve arrived in BC.

When will I learn to stop being so fatalistic and permanent with my dire predictions? When I’m under extreme stress, it’s important to recognize this and love myself through it, the way I would assist a friend, my husband or my kids. Instead, I decide that the jig is up and I’ll never be happy or peaceful again.

The type of upheaval we have gone through since the summer is bound to cause disruption. It must be my coping mechanism to forecast disaster in the face of what I cannot control. This is how I made it through childhood with a mentally ill and alcoholic father and an emotionally icy mother.

I learned not to count on anything. I anticipated the worst possible outcome so that anything less felt manageable. I’ve carried this unhealthy skill into adulthood and it hangs me up from time to time.

The solution is to acknowledge what is going on and to work at changing my fearful reactions. I’m the grown-up now, responsible for two children of my own. It’s up to me to model better responses for my kids to follow.

This too shall pass. Stress is not a permanent state. I’m responsible for my own mental health. When I feel unmoored and lost, like I do now, I must slow down and make the effort to reconnect with myself. Jason and I went on a dinner date this weekend and I had serious trouble vulnerably sharing with him. I realized it was because I was so far from myself.

At least I know what the job is now. I have to turn my signs of life back into actual life. It’s time to tend to my own soul; to find my equilibrium and the peace of mind I’ve been missing. Self care is a daily practice. When it’s neglected, nothing feels right or balanced. I have hope that I can return to my previous state of mental health if I give myself some time and effort.

The First 20 Years are the Hardest

The First 20 Years are the Hardest

Being in a long-term committed marriage is hard. If you are both open to change and growth (which is a prerequisite if you want to have a healthy, mutually-satisfying relationship), you will have periods of calm interspersed with turbulent weeks and months of upheaval and uncertainty.

Jason and I are in one of those uneasy stretches of our path right now and we have been for a couple of months now. Over the course of our almost 18 years of marriage, we’ve made our way through many of these rocky patches so I know if we persevere, we are likely to make it through to a place of strength and encouragement. That helps in a vague, otherworldly sense, but day to day it’s not much damn good.

I really hate the rawness of these relationship struggles. Where my brokenness meets his brokenness, it all feels broken. And yet day to day we make it through. We laugh over silly little things, we cook meals, we make plans, we parent as a team.

marriageTrying to be real with each other has its rewards when the sky is blue and the sun is shining. When the storm clouds roll in, that same level of honesty and authenticity can be terrifying. It leaves you feeling alone, naked, vulnerable and small. It’s agonizing, but this is always where the growing happens. I want the growth. I just don’t like the pain that precedes it.

I’m glad we fell in love and chose each other all those years ago. Thank God the tough times are mixed in with the happy ones or no marriage would succeed. I think it’s important to get honest about the real struggles and hardships that every couple goes through, especially now when we live in such a shiny Instagram world. The pretty pictures don’t tell the whole story. There is more going on than we can see in photos and glib status updates on social media.

The point of commitment it to be committed. To walk as partners through the darkest sections of your lives. To confront the fear head-on, with as much bravery as you can muster. To own your own words and actions and allow your partner to own theirs. To do your best to collaborate with kindness, riding out the scariest times and trying to remember why you love each other and decided to hitch your wagons together all those years ago.

The easy days don’t teach us much. They are there to enjoy as memories to keep us warm and safe, but hardship is where the greatest lessons reside. One day we’ll look back on this season and it will make more sense to us. For now, we will keep moving forward, together as a team, doing our very best to ask for what we need and learn what we can when the dice doesn’t roll our way.

As a favourite pastor told us many years ago when we were newlyweds, “The first 20 years of marriage are the hardest.” Now that we are close to that milestone, I think I finally know what he meant. But the only way out is always through – so we continue to walk together, whistling in the dark to bolster our courage, reaching out for the other person’s hand in the blackest sections to remind yourself that you are not alone.

A Season of Plenty

A Season of Plenty

I’m trying to believe that I’m in the right spot along my life’s path. Too often I waste energy and joy by convincing myself that I’m falling behind. I get online (likely my first mistake) and I start comparing my progress to someone else’s. This leads to a self-induced panic that boils down to one thing: scarcity.

I hate viewing success as a pie with a limited number of slices. This faulty perception breeds paranoia and an unhealthy drive to be better than someone else in order to get ahead. Either the world is an exciting place, full of abundant possibilities, or it’s not.

Why is it so tempting to lean toward scarcity as a worldview? It’s so small and limiting. Abundance is much bigger, wider and happier. My thoughts betray me when I long for them to set me free. As humans, we are not meant to stay cramped and afraid. We are creatures of infinite possibility, but why would we try out our wings if we believe we are going to fall to the ground?

a season of plentyProcess takes time. I’m convinced that the immediacy of the internet has given us outlandish expectations that everything we want is just a simple click away. Why wait for anything? As a culture, we’ve been sold a pack of lies about how entitled we are to success without actually working for it.

The natural world is about process and always has been. Our seasons last for months and you don’t get to skip ahead just because you want to. New growth takes time to unfold. Our modern on-demand world has set up impossible standards for us. We are looking for a shortcut to what we desire. Waiting and working hard feels like it’s for suckers, but it’s the only way there is. I’m recognizing that my perception is what needs to change.

I am on a path to something and so are you. It’s often slow and methodical. It winds on us with no advance warning. We follow our curiosity and sense of wonder to see where it will take us next. Roadblocks pop up and we must spend valuable time, money and resources finding a way around them. All of this matters and it’s all part of the journey. It’s our path to walk.

Comparing our road to another person’s is a waste of time. Our hard work is leading us where we want to go. The key is to disconnect from the fantasy of overnight success. No such thing exists. I have to believe that I am where I need to be. Perseverance is slow and long, but it gets us where we long to go. I’m choosing to see the world as abundant and optimistic, instead of scarce and competitive.

I’m on my journey and you are on yours. It will likely help us both to cheer each other on and hope that together we can accomplish more. I’ve done the small and cramped worldview, and it hasn’t given me good results. It’s time to open it up: to go deep and wide and bountiful; to move away from scarcity and into a season of plenty.

Life is Messy

Life is Messy

I’m lost. And afraid. I’m not clear on anything at the moment, which means I’m in the shittiest phase of the growth cycle. I know I won’t be stuck here forever (even though it feels like it) and big changes are likely in the pipeline that will be good for me. But none of this knowledge helps to heal the current pain I’m feeling.

It’s time to get honest with myself and to others about how confusing, alienating and exhausting life can get. It’s messy with a capital damn M. My soul is like a wounded bear, growling from my den, daring anyone to come at me with yet another “this too shall pass”. I know that already. We all do.

I’m longing for more shared honesty. For more “me too” and less stoic pretence. I want no more advice, so I must continue to work at not giving any out either. What helps the most when my soul has been rubbed raw with lemon juice is a piece of hope from someone else who has also experienced genuine pain, loss and grief.

life is messyThe world is a scary place. Sometimes it’s simply all too much for me. My kids are in pain and I must do my best to help them through, to offer encouragement and strength even when I am thoroughly beaten and defeated myself. I’m trying to be gentle and kind to my weary mind and heart, offering love in place of judgement, but life offers none of us a chance to get away from our problems. We only get temporary reprieves at best. The sadness will still be there, lying in wait, when we are done with our shopping, eating, Facebook surfing, exercising or Netflix binging.

Every one of us is in constant flux, evolving and changing, trying our best and still occasionally falling flat on our faces. This journey of becoming our true selves can be so rough. We get lost, night falls, our compass breaks and we have no clue where we are in our own inner landscape.

I pretended for years that I was fine when I was actually dying inside. I know that way doesn’t work, but trying to be vulnerable in a world committed to posing as rich, thin, happy, helpful and eternally young is deeply challenging too. No one said it would be easy, and at the end of the day I must choose what is right for me no matter what anyone else is doing. But stepping out as your real self, keeping a soft and open heart, trying to be honest when you are struggling – these things go against the grain, and the sense of isolation can be enormous.

The only way I know how to survive is to keep going. To breathe in and out. To hug my husband and my kids. To watch a great movie and read an inspiring book. To reach out to someone I respect and love to say, “I’m hurting. How are you?” To try again, when I prefer to hole up inside myself and never try again. To realize that the mess of life serves a growth purpose.

Nothing worthwhile is achieved without significant pain. Doubt is a huge part of this process. It’s normal. I’m not the only one to feel this way. Something is happening. New life is around the corner. I have no choice but to wait for it. All I really have to do now is the best that I can in this rough patch.