honest Archives - Julianne Harvey

In Identity, Personal Growth, Spiritual Life

How the Soul Speaks

Julianne HarveyApril 19, 2016April 18, 2016Leave a comment

Do you ever have one of those times when your reaction is nuts compared to the situation? I’m learning to pay attention to these over-reactions, for my soul is trying to tell me something that I might otherwise ignore or drown out.

Last week I was doing laundry and my dusting cloth fell in the small gap between the washer and the wall. I felt unreasonably frustrated by this tiny mishap. It was as if my psychic house of cards started to wobble and something deep inside of me recognized that I was in serious danger of losing control. I grabbed my daughter’s onesie pajamas and tried several times to cram them in the space and slowly pull them forward to drag the dusting cloth to where I could reach it before the washer drum finished filling.

Nothing. The damn cloth didn’t budge. I leaned awkwardly across the washer, refusing to quit on this rag, but when I sat up sharply I hit my head on the plastic container that holds grocery bags. All hell broke loose. It hurt like a mother and an overwhelming rage bubbled up and spilled out of me. My poor cats fled in the onslaught of such blue language. There I was, hopping around in my laundry room, rubbing my sore head and cussing the world and everyone in it.

I yelled. I swore. I bawled. I finally allowed my anger to have its way; to blow through me like a violent storm.

It had everything and nothing to do with the dusting cloth. This grief was a volcano, simmering safely until the internal temperature is finally too high and now the only option left is to explode. When we run from our feelings they find a way to get our attention. They bring us to our knees.

The pressure builds in us and then demands a release. I felt intense relief at the end of my tantrum (mixed in with gratitude that I was alone in the house except for my two surprised cats). I desperately needed to admit that I was not fine. I was hurting, engaging with my own despised human frailty; afraid, alone, angry as hell. It took a hard bump on the head to bring it all up and out so I could finally let go of it.

We can only control so much. Sometimes we reach the end of our desperate agenda. A “T” forms in our path and we must either hang on or let go. Getting honest about this is the first step, even if this looks like swearing and screeching in your basement. Especially then. It’s never easy to admit that it’s not all about you. As Rob Bell says, “There is something else going on here.”

I’m grateful for that dropped cloth and the subsequent bump on the head. When I calmed down I could sense that I was different in some hard-to-define but nonetheless true way. With a flash of insight, I saw that the broom handle would be the solution for my cloth. In two seconds, it was retrieved and placed in the washer, just in the nick of time.

Most of life is like this, provided we don’t catastrophize into the future. Staying in the present helps us find our solution and remain connected to our true selves so we can figure out what it is we actually need.

In Personal Growth, Relationships

The First 20 Years are the Hardest

Julianne HarveyApril 5, 2016April 4, 2016Leave a comment

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.

Trying 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.

In Identity, Personal Growth, Relationships

Real Surrender

Julianne HarveyDecember 22, 2015December 21, 2015Leave a comment

I know I write a lot about acceptance, surrender, letting go of what we cannot change. This is because it’s so damn challenging for me. I think I have it under control, then something else happens to knock me off my game and I have no other choice but to practice this skill once again.

I find it hard to believe when people say they don’t struggle with acceptance. I’ve heard versions of “I just let it go” with a breezy flip of the hair and a general sense of how easy this is. Without fail, every time, I think to myself, “Bullshit.”

Real surrender over circumstances and people is hard. It’s a process, where you don’t get to skip any steps. It’s not easy for a reason. The meaning is found in the struggle. We should be wrestling with what wounds us. We have all been hurt, let down, lost, bewildered.

We can’t have it all. That’s a bold-faced lie. What we do have is choices. One after another, day in and day out, then each of these accumulated decisions determines the quality of our lives. Who we spend the bulk of our time with matters. We influence each other.

Wanting a healthy life requires courage. It doesn’t just happen, in and of itself. Our intentions determine our outcomes. We can’t simply float along, at the whim of other people’s decisions, opinions and beliefs, and think that we are in charge of our own destiny. That’s an immature, guarded and small way of life.

But stepping out, as our authentic selves, carries a price tag. You will disappoint some people, many of whom will be close to you. Grieving these lost and broken relationships will be painful. The sharp, piercing sadness will fade, but I’m a few years into it and it never goes away completely.

Especially around the holidays, when opportunities to practice letting go of expectations are all around you. We cannot control what other people say or do (or what they don’t say or don’t do). We must let go of the dream of how we want a situation to be. We just don’t have that kind of power.

I’m learning to focus on the good that has resulted from the losses I’ve sustained. If I make a list of the benefits I enjoy on a daily basis from the hard decisions I’ve made with some relationships, it ends up as a long and rich accounting. Focusing on what has been left behind only paralyzes me in grief. If I want to keep moving forward (and I do), it’s necessary to celebrate what has made my current, joyful life possible, not what or who might be absent from it.

To anyone feeling lost and bereft in these days leading up to Christmas, you are not alone. Surrender. Let go. Allow yourself to accept all that you cannot control so that you can see the good things and people in your life that you feel grateful for.

Try not to fixate on what’s gone and what may never be again. Let it run through your fingers like sand. Turn to those who are there for you – who love and accept you, exactly as you are – for they will make up your future. This is what matters; not what is gone, but what you have gained by your honest choices and what will continue to bloom in the years to come.

In Identity, Personal Growth, Relationships, Speaking

Ground Rules

Julianne HarveyDecember 15, 2015December 7, 2015Leave a comment

I did my first literary salons in grade eleven and twelve English classes a few weeks ago. I approached it as an experiment, hoping that seventeen and eighteen-year-old students would be interested in the art of open-ended conversation on meaningful topics such as loss, hope, pain, regret and letting go.

I began by laying out three key ground rules for the salon:

Only say what you are comfortable sharing
What is said here remains confidential
This is not a debate

I spent the most time elaborating on number 3. I said, “You are not trying to prove a point, or change someone’s mind, or be right. The salon is not about ideas. It’s about experience; we are trying to connect with each other by finding those ‘me too’ moments of identification.”

What happened in both classes was astonishing. After a brief warm-up round of questions drawn from a bright blue bag, the small groups of six teens each moved on to deeper subjects. Everyone participated by sharing and listening. The very air in the classroom warmed up as we all focused on each person’s story. The braver someone got with their individual answer, the more intense the connection became from person to person in that group.

I floated around, as did the teacher, and we both shared from our lives where appropriate. I was amazed by how different the experience was from regular conversation because of the ground rules, particularly the reminder that we were all there to listen and share, not to convince anyone of anything.

I’m still mulling over the power of this experience, because an idea is germinating somewhere in my soul about how healing and important this type of authentic connection is with one another. Ground rules for the process of willingly engaging with another person’s experience, with no judgement or criticism, seems to be a key piece of this interaction puzzle. But how do I take this concept from the relative safety of a high school English class and bring it to the rest of the world?

I’m still working on that. I hope an answer begins to materialize to this worthwhile question. I know that something significant shifted and changed in me as we were talking. When a student inevitably said something I disagreed with, I took a deep breath and steered the group conversation back to the specific question at hand because the ground rules said I couldn’t debate an idea or philosophy.

Instead, I tried to connect with the person’s unique experience, and search for places to identify with him or her on a human level. This strategy increased the level of vulnerability and connection we all felt, instead of adding more angry voices into a discussion on who was right and who was wrong. Every one of us gets plenty of that already on the Internet.

This experience was gentler, softer, more real and insightful. I want endlessly more of that, and it’s up to me to grow it in my own soul and then give it away when it blooms.

At the end of the salon, students said that they saw each other in a new way as a result of the group conversations. They realized that no person is any one thing. We are more alike than we are different. We all hurt, worry, hope, dream and fear.

When we agree to hold another person’s dignity in a safe relationship space, we find freedom to be honest, open and genuine. Observing the ground rules changes us, allowing for compassion to grow, and this in turn has the power to change the whole world.

In Books, Identity, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships

No More

Julianne HarveyOctober 13, 2015October 13, 2015Leave a comment

“It often takes just a single brave person to change the trajectory of a family, or any system, for that matter.” This quote, from Brene Brown’s terrific new book Rising Strong, struck me in the heart like a well-placed arrow.

It’s brave to make huge life changes. It costs us, every single time, and has far-reaching effects for others. I’m just arriving at a point where I feel comfortable talking about the work I did three years ago with my side of the family. Before now, a lot of silent, underground healing was still happening.

I loved listening to Brene talk with Liz Gilbert on her Magic Lessons podcast about the types of stories we share. Brene said that she only shares stories when she’s worked through the shame, pain and regret. If she tells these stories before this healing has happened, it’s too much vulnerability and other people can use the story against her. Once she’s finished processing the wound, she can talk about it without feeling the same sting.

Hearing this boosted my courage because I recognized its truth in my soul before I even worked it through my mind. A single brave person can alter the trajectory of everything, by simply deciding, “No more.”

In my case, it was, “No more pretending. From this point on, I’m moving toward being real, authentic and honest. I will not ignore my feelings any longer. I am worth more than that. I deserve to pursue my own path, without constantly worrying about how other people will perceive me. From this point on, I’m looking after myself and my dependent children and refusing to caretake for other adults.”

This statement caused great unrest and upheaval in my family of origin. It did not fit with my lifetime habit of rescuing, fixing and people-pleasing. I can finally own this as a brave act of vulnerability and risk. I did it to save myself and to model a different way of being for my two kids.

It was very hard, for a long time. I felt this stand was selfish. I worried about disappointing my mom and siblings. I grappled with less-than identity concerns about my own value and worthiness – how could anyone else love me if I was on the outs with my own family? Working through these issues was agonizing, but worth it in the end, for I got to change the trajectory for myself and my kids. It’s never too late to stand up and say, “No more. It’s time to chart a new course.”

The consequences of these decisions must be weathered and borne. We can’t skip past them. Other people will hurt as a result of our choices, but this is for them to endure and feel. We might be in pain for a long time. I’ve had to learn to forgive and then love from a distance while the healing process is underway. But I have the right to change, grow and be free from old patterns. And so do you.