The Slowdown: We Say We Want It, But What Happens When We Do?

We often talk about the need or desire to slow down when we feel like we are doing too much. We feel the pull to step out of the race we didn’t know we signed, but what happens when we do?

A few years ago I was looking to shift my business goals and focus more on writing and less direct work with clients in my private practice.

I couldn’t wait for things to slow down. My personal and professional responsibilities seemed to take up every moment of my day and I wanted more time for myself. If I knew how many moments there were to count before I got there, I would have counted them.

The compromises played out on repeat.

“After this, I’ll be good.

When this happens, I’ll slow down.

I just gotta get through this and then I will be able to breathe.”

One of two things generally happens next- either the slow down is avoided as other distractions fill the potential space or once the slow down begins, our bodies and minds which are easily accustomed to the ongoing stress, begin to create new stressors and distractions to avoid the feelings that come with the slow down.

Why?

Because the slow down is hard. We say we want it until we become so used to the adrenaline high and crash of stress we don’t know who we are without it.

I started asking myself questions I had never considered…

If I’m not actively doing something, who am I? What’s my value? What’s my purpose? What do I bring to the table?

I didn’t know if I wanted a break from activity as much as I wanted a break from the expectations.

The expectation that I have to prove something, like my value. Or the expectation that I have to earn free time with no responsibility, or doing things I genuinely enjoy.

During my slow down, I began to see the cracks of where my energy was seeping out. The time I spent trying to build something outside of me instead of focus on the instability inside of me.

I know that sounds a bit cliche, but it was true. I looked for ways to maintain my energy from feeling needed from others. As I began to have less distractions I could see that I was incredibly uncomfortable without all the inner buzz asking me to stay on top of my responsibility. The Should’s were super loud.

“Well now that you have time you SHOULD dig in and start writing. You have space so you SHOULD fill it with all the things you didn’t have room for before. You SHOULD move your body everyday and eat well and meditate more deeply and have all the answers to what you are doing next by…the end of the day today. Get on it.

Oh also, you SHOULD be having more fun and feeling fully content.”

But instead, I froze. And felt drained…just by expectation alone.

I didn’t want to push. I didn’t want to hustle. I wanted to rest and learn what relaxed felt like.

When you are living in fight or flight for so long, the let down and “healing” phase feels completely unfamiliar. When you spend most of your time scanning for threat and a problem to solve it becomes an instinct and lasts well after the threat has left. The system becomes addicted to the adrenaline and protecting itself so when the threat is not there, it will create one just to feel “normal.”

I imagine this is what people who retire must feel like. Or when someone is suffering from an experience or illness that forces you to slow down.

All the stuff that was avoided before now has the space to remind you it’s still there. And this time, it’s not letting you close your eyes. In fact, it may even make your eyes stay open all night wondering what the hell is happening with all these weird feelings coming up.

I can see now it’s a detox of sorts. Letting the feelings come up and the habitual fear thoughts who were quietly running the show reveal themselves with a more forceful approach.

The irony? I teach this. I see it in other people so clearly, but in myself, it felt like I was stranded in crazy town with no ride or exit out.

So what did I do? I cried a lot. And read books I was drawn to. And took a lot of naps. I looked for distractions to fill the space but there weren’t any I even had the energy for.

I was tired. And sad. And lonely. And all the yucky things I avoided for a long time because those feelings were not “productive” and there was no space for them to get shit done.

As I said to a friend, sadness makes me feel helpless, whereas anxiety motivates me, yet makes me impulsive. I was on my way towards the middle but I felt no patience around it. I had no blueprint or map on where I was going or what to expect.

I was no longer sinking but I was not comfortable riding the waves either.

What did I used to say all the time? Oh yes- Go with the Flow.

Yet going with the flow is hard when you lost your faith in the middle of it.

And that’s where I landed in the middle of the slow down. Faithless, lost, and having no idea how or if I’d find my way out.

I don’t know at what point I recognized I needed more help, I just knew I did.

A mental health therapist myself, I’d never had much luck with therapy. I rarely lasted long with talk therapy because I could process my own experience and patterns quickly and didn’t leave my therapist with much room to help me. I knew I’d have to try something different and I was ready.

I didn’t need help seeing my patterns, I needed help feeling and moving through the resistance that came with changing them.

I invited in a tour guide (my first somatic based therapist) to help me go into the depths of myself and find my way out a bit less beat up.

This is where I learned how many injured parts lived inside me and the ways they were showing up. Life hasn’t been the same since, and for that I am grateful.

The more I look and feel what’s inside me the more I can see the ways my life outside me both reflects and challenges my injuries. And the more I see, the more I can make new choices to change and enhance my life.

The deeper I dive into this work the more there seems to be to explore and reveal. I am both fearful and fascinated by what I continue to find. And that is how I know I am on the right path for me.

What Are Your Really Scared Of?

When I tell the story of my life path and how I ended up where I seem to be, I most often start with life with my mother.

A beautiful, sensitive spirit, her 41 years of life was a rollercoaster of joy and pain, like most of us, yet from the majority of the memories I can recall, not an enviable one.

When I was nine months old she displayed some odd behaviors, namely trying to make my brother and I throw up believing we would die if we didn’t. This landed her in the hospital for a month to assess what was “wrong” with her.

Several medications and observations later she was sent home with a diagnosis of mental illness. A few different variations but ultimately she was ushered into the box of bipolar disorder…or in those days, Manic Depression.

She would spend the next 14 years trying to find the cure to her manic highs and debilitating lows. She just wanted to feel better, or at least not worse. She searched for answers, prayed, took the advice given, then scrapped the advice given and tried to exist without wanting to die on a regular basis.

Any chance of having a present and nurturing mother was gone before I could walk or say words. My childhood was one of parentification and neglect. Of soothing my mother’s big needs or being on alert for the next blowup, breakdown or suicide intervention. She referred to me as her “little psychiatrist.” She relied on my words and comfort during her darkest of times and I felt compelled to be that support for her. I didn’t want her to leave again.

Days before my fifteenth birthday, she ended her life by suicide. Took over 100 of the pills prescribed to save her life. My job as her caretaker ended, but my new career of becoming a healer for others was just beginning.

At some point, very early after her death, I promised myself I would use the horrible experience I encountered for good. I would find a way to serve others with what I learned. That promise was one I kept. I became a professional counselor and later a master energy therapist. I authored a work-ing book and guide to connect us to ourselves. And another book for children, and those that read to them, with a heartfelt reminder that love never dies.

My passion and gift, it seems, is to seek and find the good in the devastation. The elixir in the pain. And the faith in the fear.

And while all of that is true, and the motivation has been a propelling force since I was young, what I did not know and realize is how the trauma of my childhood affected me. The level of dysregulation in my nervous system, the chronic stress I would accumulate, and how the untamed drive that pushed me to “do good” was also what caused me to burn out and self sabotage.

It would be many years later I would understand the root of my anxiety, the way the parts of me split and overcompensated under stress, the injuries that went ignored inside my psyche and the grief that was delayed because it felt like “too much.”

I spent my lifetime focusing on others needs abandoning my own by default. Partly out of love and partly out of fear.

For the past ten years I’ve been learning to discern which voice is leading the show. And now I’m ready to write and share more about my journey.

As I share my inner world you may see parts of yourself, your patterns, your motives, and your pain points. In fact, I hope you do.

After working with the inner worlds of others for the entirety of my career, I know none of us are alone.

Welcome to the unraveling, one fear at a time.

What Lights Your Fire?

I have many, many irrational fears and one of them is running out of gas. It’s never happened to me because once the light goes on I hone in on the first gas station that crosses my path. 

The other day the gas light went on and my inner panic lit up with it. I stopped at the first gas station available. One I’m not sure I ever noticed before. As I pulled up to the pump I noticed a young man sitting on the stoop by the door holding a sign made from a ripped cardboard box.

“Homeless…anything helps,” written boldly on the sign.

I noticed my gaze immediately went down. The same way it does when the girl scouts are staked out by the grocery store entrance. I don’t want the cookies and I don’t want to be guilted by the cookies, but now I feel guilted by their cute little faces. “Look away, Lynn, look away.”

His face was not cute. It was lost.

Don’t look away, Lynn. I heard my inner voice say. 

What?? I thought we were supposed to look away. This is uncomfortable. I can’t fix his pain. I can’t make it stop. I can’t face him knowing I have a warm place to go and food to eat that I get to cook. 

Don’t look away. The voice more pronounced. 

Fine. I looked directly at him and his eyes met mine.

I looked down and saw $6 in my console that had been there for weeks. I rarely ever have cash. “Anything helps.”

I opened the car door and walked directly over to him, cash in hand. I acknowledged it was very little and I hoped he found what he needed soon.

He immediately got up and looked me in the eyes. His eyes were clear and bright. His voice confident and filled with gratitude. 

“Thank you. I’m just waiting on my birth certificate from Texas and am working with a social worker at the soup kitchen to get a job.”

I felt his inner warmth, his spark, his optimism.

I met it with my own. 

“There are many services to get you back on your feet. I’ve used some of them myself and I know it takes awhile, but it does help. I’ve been there.”

He gently smiled acknowledging that winter was hard but he was hopeful things would change soon.

I wished him well and returned to fueling my car and was on my way.

Once out of sight, the tears came fast. I couldn’t stop them or slow them down.

I cried for his plight, his pain, his challenges, and the loneliness I’m sure he feels. I cried for those who feel the same, including myself, and the moments I’ve had (and still have) where overwhelm takes over and questioning everything feels consuming.

I cried for the human condition and how many people live with hopelessness that this is all their is. 

And then, when I was done crying, I asked myself what I wanted to DO about it. How could I best serve? How could I help the young man? How can I touch the loneliness and helplessness we all feel at times? How can I use my skills and resources with the limited capacity I have to do my part- whatever that is?

Keep sharing Hope, Lynn. Keep sharing the stories of Hope. Everyone needs the reminders, including you.

I took the answer as the sign I needed to keep moving forward. To keep plugging along. To keep listening to that inner fire that says- we all make a difference. 

And that is what I will do.

I later met my friend at a cafe and designed small cards I can hand out to strangers and people I meet to remind them there is Hope. There is Support. There is Love to be felt by all. I will keep asking and sharing Stories of Serendipity to reignite and remind our Faith to keep burning. 

What is your nudge? What is the little voice that speaks in terms of passion and aliveness? What lights you up? 

Go there. Keep blowing on the embers. “Anything helps.”

Who knows what your spark is meant to create? 

If you have a Story of Serendipity to share, please do! We ALL need the reminders. 

Submit Your Story:

http://www.livingwithserendipity.com/submit-story-of-serendipity

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Stories of Serendipity

As a professional counselor, healer and human, I have spent my life searching, studying, observing and practicing ways to help those I meet reconnect with hope, faith in themselves and trust in a life that was designed for them. 

In the process, I’ve had to learn the same for myself. 

Throughout my many lived experiences, working with others through their biggest challenges, and those of my own, I have learned the difficulty is generally not what we experience, but the belief we are in it alone, or that we must be. That we are failing or being punished or that our suffering is useless. That our shame keeps us unworthy and our mistakes are tattoos of disgrace continuously on display.

Whatever faith we feel in ourselves or life becomes dark when we traverse through the mud. Temporarily forgetting we have access to water to wash it away when we are ready.

It is my belief that this is when our divinity is most present. Not when we are soaring but when we are feeling like we will never fly again. We may not feel it, yet this is when we are most surrounded by love and joy. Our challenge is to open up to it, invite it in and let it remind us of its presence. 

In my experience Serendipity appears when we need it most. It is the unexpected Joy that we feel when a stranger acknowledges us, the animal that crosses our path when we feel distraught and alone, the deal that falls through so a better one can enter, the unlocked door when we were sure we didn’t have keys, the relationship that cracks our heart wide open, and the ending that forces us to start a new beginning we wouldn’t choose on our own.

Each experience leading us down a path towards greater expansion. Each a reminder that we don’t have to worry about every detail because many of them won’t matter. That we are supported, cared for and loved fully through this life- especially when it doesn’t feel like it AT ALL. 

Stories of serendipity is experiential evidence of that support. They are reminders of how divinity moves through and with all of us; in ways that serve us best. We may have unique paths, but are loved through them the same. And sometimes, many times, we need those reminders over and over again. 

Do you have a story of Serendipity that still amazes you? Please consider sharing it for others in need to be reminded of just how loved and supported we are- particularly when we feel it least. 

Let’s inspire each other and share and re-share Hope for all. 

SUBSCRIBE TO STORIES OF SERENDIPITY

Healing From Loneliness

I can still recall sitting on my couch when I read these words from my soul sister, Jayne, via text. My heart sunk from the sage advice. 

She was a gifted intuitive and when she shared divine wisdom her words would shift a bit…almost sound more formal…and then she’d come back with a joke or sarcasm to wrap it up with lightness. 

It was the early days of my divorce and I had just learned my kids would be spending Thanksgiving with their dad. I was notoriously not a good sharer when it came to spending time with my kids, and the thought of being without them for the holiday had put me in a low place.

“Imagine you are alone. Sit in that space. Feel it and heal from there.”

Did she know abandonment and feeling loneliness were my biggest fears?

Likely not. I didn’t even know at the time. 

The thought of being alone swallowed me up with dread and angst. I avoided the possibility of feeling it assuming I wouldn’t be able to tolerate the discomfort. 

And yet, I knew she was right. If I was going to feel less dread I would have to experience what created it, and survive. 

It was the first of many occasions I would spend without my kids, and quite frankly, it was never easy. I would feel the pangs of sadness and grief and let it wash over me. Never appreciating it, but living through it. 

The older they have gotten the more time they have spent away from me. With lives of their own and experiences that don’t involve me, the grief of separation has only grown. The tumultuousness of adolescence and transitioning into adulthood while following their own path have stories of their own. 

My time alone, without them, has made the quietness of my house echo with emptiness. The  wounds I put aside to heal another day have resurfaced to remind me its their turn now, for nurturing, for attention, for the care I so freely give to others. 

I no longer imagine being alone. I am living it. I am feeling it. And I am, little by little, healing from it. 

What has been most remarkable for me during this time is how much repressed grief has come up. Enormous waves of sad from childhood. Noticing the inner fears I developed long ago when my voice wasn’t loud enough to be heard. 

And after I tend to it- the pain. After I nurture it- the emptiness. I find it slowly being refilled with a sense of hope I hadn’t realized how much I had lost. 

In the quiet, I feel the energy of my mother, my grandparents, and the team of spiritual support that accompany me in this life. I close my eyes and see the soul sparks of those who’ve made dynamic appearances which caused me great pain, yet taught me profound love lessons that have been tremendous in my personal growth. 

I notice the subtle serendipities that remind me how supported we are on our paths and in the everyday trials and joys of life. 

The familiar song playing in the store I hadn’t heard since my daughter’s toddlerhood, the picture on the wall in the antique store from my childhood bedroom, the text from a friend the exact moment I need it, the therapy sessions that help me travel into the darkest moments of my life and see how I was never, ever alone. 

Each day, if I let myself stay open to the wonder, it appears. 

I am not grateful for the experience yet, as I’m still moving through the heavy, but I am mindful of the gifts that are being offered in small, beautifully wrapped packages along the way. 

If you are in the middle of a growth spurt, I feel you. Rarely do they come without stretch marks and soreness. Keep your supports close and practice letting yourself feel them- from the seen and unseen. 

And when it feels like a bit too much, ask for more. :) 

Why It's Hard to Hold a Boundary and How to Make It Easier

The only real conflict you will ever have in your life won’t be with others, but with yourself.”  ~Shannon Adler

I sat in my chemistry class during my junior year of high school staring at the periodic table and wondering if I was going to make it through. Bored and lost, I struggled to find value in the class or make sense of why I was there. It felt purposeless.

Until I met Kevin.

Kevin sat a few seats away from me and was a senior. I knew of him, but I had never really noticed or paid attention to him. I can’t recall why I even started paying attention to him other than his seat’s proximity to mine.

Maybe it was because he wasn’t like the typical guy I was attracted to and I was ready for something different.

It could have been because he was a bit aloof and kind of distant and his attention made me feel like I was winning some sort of game. Either way, it wasn’t long before I was hooked.

He was the “jealous type,” which was also new for me. He wanted me to only pay attention to him and scolded me when I spent time talking to my large group of male friends. I received his jealousy as his expression of adoration. I wanted him to want me. He wanted to claim me, and I wanted to be claimed.

It didn’t faze me when he began to put me down and make me feel like I was doing something wrong when it didn’t involve him. When we were drunk and he accused me of being disloyal, I was sure it was just his way of saying he cared.

And when he cheated on me, it made perfect sense why. I blamed the girl he was with instead of him— because she clearly was jealous of me.

The day he broke up with me, I was determined to do everything I could to win him back. Make him realize I was good enough to be chosen. Make him see that letting me go was not really what he wanted. Make him realize that life without me was never going to work.

The cat and mouse games we played were thrilling. The highs high and the lows disturbingly low. The dopamine and adrenaline rush made me feel alive, and the eventual crash left me craving more.

My adolescent brain identified this chemical combination as “passion” and a feeling I wanted more of. More importantly, it taught me in order to sustain my relationships, I would have to put others’ needs over my own. A pattern that began in earlier childhood but was reinforced when the stakes felt high. I unconsciously chose partners who would not, could not choose me.

Because I was too afraid to choose myself.

It’s not that I was afraid of creating a boundary, a line, a point of no return. It’s just that when someone crossed that line by treating me poorly, I didn’t feel ready to follow through on what may have followed.

I wasn’t ready to feel the repercussions of my choice. If they didn’t like my boundary, I might lose them. They might reject me. They might punish me. They might leave me behind.

I had plenty of examples of when that had happened.

And then I’d have to feel the inevitable pain of loss and loneliness. I’d have to feel the grief and the space it would take up in my life. I feared I’d have to put my other priorities on hold because the overflow of emotions might be too great. Too overwhelming. Too depressing. And I didn’t want to deal with that.

So instead of asking for what I needed and what would have made my relationships holistically better, I allowed men to treat me with disrespect, inequity, and blatant disregard for my well-being. All in the name of maintaining the status quo and not having to feel the unsavory emotions I masterfully avoided.

This fear of holding a boundary led to years of crippling anxiety, layers of depression, embarrassment, and lots and lots of hidden shame.

The feelings I avoided not only became constant companions, but they also intensified with my decision to ignore them and pretend like they didn’t exist.

I had weird physical ailments that no one could quite grasp. My alcohol consumption increased just so I could feel “normal” and less anxious. The emotions of anger and fear dominated my thoughts, and my passive-aggressive response to them became my go-to reaction.

I was furious at those who wouldn’t choose me. I blamed them for my choices and lack of follow through. But I didn’t dare ask for what I needed, to keep myself safe from the unknowns that might consume me. My silence and avoidant behaviors became my cozy home base and the only way I seemed to know how to cope.

There was no one moment when I recognized what I was doing. Unconscious responses are well hidden in their motives as quiet protectors.

But I did spend a lot of time shaming and blaming myself when the repercussions of my avoidance caught up to me. Questioning what was wrong with me and why I was so broken. Never quite recognizing my behaviors weren’t meant to hurt me but to shield me from the discomfort of feeling emotions I’d rather run from.

It’s taken a lot of slowing down and observing my reactions and thoughts to see why it’s so difficult for me to hold a boundary, even when I know it’s the healthiest action for both myself and another. It’s also taken a lot of compassion to judge myself less, knowing my desire to feel loved and accepted often outweighs my desire to stand my ground.

Most of us experience this as humans. And that’s okay.

Learning to hold a healthy boundary is a continuous practice for me, and one that starts with being honest about my own motives and fears.

When I am resisting asking for what I need, it becomes an opportunity to pause and check in with myself and ask: What are you really scared of? What do you think will happen if you ask for what you want?

Most of the time my fear is of rejection, abandonment, or being verbally attacked as a way to manipulate me. Having experienced these things intensely in the past, those fears can get quite loud.

Once I identify the fear, I’ll ask: What you do you need to feel safer in this situation? If you can’t control another’s response, what will help you feel more ease before and after? What supports would benefit you? Who can you ask to aid you with this? How can you soothe yourself through the discomfort that may arise?

When we do this, it allows our very real fears to be seen and acknowledged and enables us to set up a plan of support for before and after. It also builds our tolerance for holding discomfort. A skill many of us struggle with.

Our fear of being abandoned asks that we don’t abandon ourselves too. The parts of us that are afraid of being left behind are looking for evidence that someone will show up for them. If we create a plan to not abandon ourselves with reinforcement and supports, our need to protect ourselves decreases. Our sense of safety improves and slowly we begin to trust our own follow through.

It’s also something we can support our friends and children with. Telling someone to hold a boundary is not nearly as helpful as modeling or showing them how to.

Our seeming inability to hold a healthy boundary is not a sign of weakness. It’s not a character flaw and it’s not something to feel ongoing shame around. It’s a normal response to deeper fears that are asking to be seen, acknowledged, and supported, which is well within our control.

We have the power to stand up for ourselves, and for others, and ask for what we need in a way that is loving, compassionate, and kind. We can do this by starting with ourselves.

How easy is it for you to hold a healthy boundary that benefits you and another? What are the deterrents that keep you from following through? How do you support yourself through the challenge? How will it feel when you reach the other side?

Let this be your guide while you practice choosing you.

Article originally published on Tiny Buddha.

How to Know What Decision is Right For You

I sat at the edge of my mother’s bed while she laid curled up in the dimly lit room, tears gently rolling down her face as she voiced her fears, her sadness, her deep anguish.

I don’t remember the words I said to her to soothe her aching heart. I only remember the feeling. Calm, gentle, flowing through me like they had been waiting for their cue to be expressed. It was their turn to be heard and it took no effort on my part to access them.

“How do you always know what to say?” My mother asked me.

“I don’t,” I replied. “I just feel it. It’s God’s voice speaking through me.”

“How do you know?” She questioned with hopeful curiosity.

“I don’t know how, I just do. How do you not?” I asked, equally curious.

I was 8 years old.

The truth is I didn’t know. I was raised with traditional Christian teachings and didn’t know if it was “God” but those words of comfort didn’t feel like mine alone. They were words of hope, of solace, of a knowing faith that seemed to move through me as quickly as they were summoned. My quiet knowing always seemed to know what to say.

At my mother’s lowest moments they became even louder when both she and I needed them most.

My mother struggled with manic highs and debilitating lows for the entirety of my childhood. Her first month long hospitalization for emotional and mental instability occurred when I was 9 months old.

From my infancy until her death by suicide 14 years later, I had only known her in her quest for solace from an internally chaotic life.

I had used my voice of knowing as often as I could to offer her any semblance of peace. As the child, my own needs depended on it.

After her death, my trust in that voice was compromised.

I didn’t know who “God” was and I no longer knew what I believed.

I did not hear a quiet companion of hope but a wavering optimist. The soft knowing I once was comforted by felt replaced by the cries of confusion and loneliness. The only knowing I felt sure of was not wanting to be hurt that much again.

I began to overthink my decisions and felt overwhelmed when I didn’t have a clear view of the repercussions that would follow.

Trauma theories suggest my voice of knowing had more static interference when I was re triggered over and over again when around people I love in pain, including myself.  To guard me from injury, my fear voice, my protective voice, became louder than my faith.

It makes sense.

When I look back on my major choices from adolescence through early adulthood, I can see how the logic, and often the fear in my head, won out over the tender knowing of my heart.

The “safe” college I went to, the friendships that didn’t serve my wellbeing, the relationships I gripped on to well past their expiration dates. The jobs I despised, the fear I’d never have enough or be enough. The countless times I said yes, when I really wanted to say no- or vice versa.

Trying to maintain the image of following through with what the “right” choices were so I’d be accepted and not left behind.

It makes sense that the more life experiences we have, the more pain we feel, the more fear we are fed by the skepticism around us, the softer that knowing voice becomes. Not mute, but quiet. So quiet that it’s hard to hear when fear is the loudest voice in the room.

My own disconnect and distrust of this voice is also what led me to study how to reconnect with her. That little girl, that knowing and the strong faith in her ability to cut through the noise and hear her true self.

In my quest, I have studied varied ways to connect with this voice through science based techniques and spiritual traditions and practices. I’ve experimented with countless neurosensory exercises to regulate my nervous system and dove deep into energy medicine to grasp the flow of our energy systems. They all work. They all have merit, and they all have one common goal- to feel good. Balanced, whole, and fulfilled…in whatever ways we can.

To be clear, I don’t think the goal is to abolish our fear. In order to live this life fully, we need both. We need our natural protectors to look both ways before we cross the street, just not 245 times and still never cross.

One of my favorite practices to connect with the knowing voice is when making a decision or crossing the road is to ask myself “If I took the fear out, what would I do?”

This not only helps to identify the fear, but also which voice has been trying to make the decision. The voice of knowing is generally calm and without fanfare.  The voice of fear is that which will sound the alarms when we threaten to change the status quo.

Taking out the fear when making a decision does not take out the fear as we take action on that decision, but it is an amazing practice to tune into which voice is trying to take the lead. One that will be needed over and over again as we keep moving forward in new territories with unknown outcomes. One that we can fall back on on when the inevitable crossroads meets us again.

What is your relationship like with your intuitive voice- your gentle knowing? What times in life did you feel most connected to it? What moments did you feel it went silent? How easily do you trust its guidance? What would it be like to acknowledge its presence and let it lead the way?

Article originally posted on Elephant Journal.

The Challenge of Trusting the Process

I am in this weird, uncomfortable stage of life right now called transition, where everything is changing and I’m not actually sure where I’m going or how I’m going to get there, but I KNOW I am going in the right direction…to somewhere. 

A few weeks ago I was heading down the rabbit hole of frustration and not knowing where to put my energy and I wrote down- “Live one day at a time for now. Practice not knowing and trusting the process.”

Sounds kind of romantic unless you are one who actually likes to grip on to what you know. 

I teach the value of trust and even techniques how to trust, but what I know for sure is, trust is not easy when you have been trained to not trust. It takes daily practice when your default is to control the world around you. Or at least think you are controlling the world around you. 

I woke up last week and had the urge to go check out a new library. The library has been my destination of choice as of late to get out of the house and write or do work…or just sit in the energy of all those words and dreams that came to life on paper. 

I had a strong pull to go to this one library and feel it out. I wasn’t sure why and when I questioned if that was REALLY where I wanted to go, the answer was yes. 

Okay, I’m in. Although I will readily question my intuition, I also know it rarely steers me wrong when I follow through to the end of whatever adventure it takes me on.

This time was no different. 

My drive to the town library 30 minutes from my house was not what I expected. Beautiful, yes. It usually is. But quiet? No.

As I drove by a few familiar houses and vista points my emotions began to bubble up and my mind began to race. The ache I thought I had moved through began to resurface.

Ugh. What do you want now??

“You’re not done feeling this one yet.”

The tears began to silently drop one by one. “What happened? How did I get here?”

The confusion began to flood my thoughts as well. The multitude of question marks and lack of periods.

Can’t I just accept it for what it is? A part of the journey. An experience I was meant to have. Maybe I don’t need to know why. Maybe I just need to appreciate what is. 

The sadness filled my chest. 

“I just wish I knew…” I heard her say.

She speaks often- the part of me that wants to understand life and it’s meaning. The part that likes to make sense of it all. But I can’t yet. I’m still in the middle and I can’t see what is meant to be next. I’m simply supposed to TRUST it’s all happening for me. 

My conversation with my client earlier in the morning popped up in my mind.

While she spun in circles with the fear of not getting the home she wanted, I recounted the story of buying my current home. I thought I was buying a different house, one I thought was perfect for me. 

Everything lined up as though it was meant to be mine. I did the daily drive by stalk. I felt myself living there. I envisioned it as though it was mine. And then, when I least expected it, it dropped out. It was no longer an option. 

Within a week, my current home popped up on the market and took the offer I never dreamed would work. It took another year of more question marks than periods for the house to officially be mine and mine alone, but the windy road brought me to a place that at once seemed impossible.

One door closed for another to open. 

I know how it works….but it doesn’t turn off the grief.

Even knowing its “happening for a reason” doesn’t eliminate the discomfort or frustration or old feelings that wanted to remind me they still needed to be felt. 

Including the aftershocks after the quake…

I arrived at the library and it was not what I thought. It seemed as though it was a temporary location while whatever new library was being worked on. The library I was drawn to visit was also in transition. 

When I went inside it was busy and uninviting and it didn’t really have the vibe that anyone wanted to be there. I took a quick tour of a few different rooms and quickly determined, I too, did not want to be there. I walked out.

“Why am I here? What brought me here?” 

I got in my car and decided I would try another library closer to home I hadn’t been to but always wanted to go. Accepting the reroute, I turned the music up in my car as I headed towards my next destination.

And then it came…the answer. I was brought this way to feel my feelings. To go back over the ground of the familiar to bring up what felt unexpressed. I didn’t WANT to feel the sad but the sad still needed some space to breathe and the stomping grounds I drove through brought out the memories I needed to feel it through.

Fiiiine. 

The current journey was my destination. The unexpressed feelings were the experience I was avoiding. I drove there not to experience the new but to feel the old, so I could open myself up to the new. 

As I walked into the next library, tiny and full of good vibes, I was directed to the children’s room. My eyes welled up when I walked down the stairs and saw the long table covered with books inviting me in. 

Welcome to the day’s serendipity. 

Surrounded by joy and colorful captures of life in the most whimsical forms. I had almost forgotten, I too, had created one of these live treasures. My own published children’s book brought to life by the visions inside me coming out to be seen. I was surrounded by dreams that looked like mine reminding me to stay the course and see how it plays out. 

It is indeed scary to not know where you will go and be at end of the day. Yet the journey is also one full of possibility, hope, dreams and unknowns which could turn in to the dreams you didn’t know you had. 

So much passion waiting to come alive and birth into the fullness of life. 

Maybe I don’t know where I need to be. Maybe there is no need at all. Maybe each day has its own set of serendipity waiting to be experienced when you open the door to live it. 

I don’t know what I’m doing next, but maybe that’s the point. Maybe I never really did.

Where I am is exactly where I’m supposed to be. And maybe trusting the process is learning to be okay with that. 

Dealing with Uncertainty: 5 Tips to Tell The Difference Between Fear and Intuition

I sat in meditation waiting for an answer for over an hour. Okay, that’s not true. It was more like five minutes but it felt like wayyy over an hour. 

I didn’t know what to do. I felt lost and uncomfortable and I wanted that feeling to go away. I didn’t know what was going to happen next and I wanted the answers now so I could plan accordingly. I waited for the quiet voice of intuition to present itself.

Instead, the “what if’s” began.

“What if I get hurt? What if I’m wrong? What if I don’t know what I’m doing? What if something happens and I don’t have what I need?”

I don’t even know what “something” could be but my guess is it’s probably really big and devastating if it’s always invading my thoughts. 

I have been in the business of change for quite awhile now as a mental health counselor and energy therapist. Teaching how to trust is my jam. I’m good at it. I have lots of practices that help the head connect with the heart to make conscious, trust based decisions and I still have to use them alll the time.

It doesn’t come natural to me. Fear is always the loudest voice in the room.

I don’t fault myself for that. I know I’m trained for it. One news article later or a few minutes of scrolling through social media or turning on the television and I’m blasted with some sort of fear that I didn’t have beforehand.  Usually one I didn’t even know I had at all.

It is no wonder we are terrified of uncertainty. It’s marketed as a negative. Like the perpetrator ready to attack us at any moment, we are trained to avoid uncertainty. Keep yourself safe by filling in all the possible blanks to make sure you are fully prepared to combat it. The last thing you want is to face the unknown. Why? Because you can’t control it.

*shiver*

We must control what we don’t know to keep us safe, right? And yet, we can’t. 

If you know anything about psychology or even indulge in pop psychology, you may have heard our brains are wired for a negative bias. From what I’ve studied and personally experienced, that’s true.

By nature, our brains take in sensory information from the environment and scan for danger before we deem our surroundings safe and cozy. This is the oldest part of the brain that is useful when foraging for food and being aware of predators around us. We’re not dropping this part of our brain’s design with good reason. It gives us the sense to look both ways before crossing the street instead of ignoring the fast moving vehicles around us. 

Once our sense has decided the environment is safe enough, we process information from the past to tell us how to cross the street and how to do it well. But sometimes that information gets infiltrated with “knowledge” that wasn’t even ours to begin with or something we didn’t even encounter. This is where other people’s experiences, “truths” and fears come into play. We use this information from outside sources to determine what is true and right for us without ever having experienced it. 

All because “they” said so, and their fears match our own. Or at least the ones we’ve been taught.

This includes our parents and caregivers and the beliefs they inherited from their families and experiences. It’s also our peers, our teachers, our leadership, “experts”, and pretty much anyone we are taking in information from. They become the different voices in our head we use as information when making decisions. 

Often the person we want the most approval from becomes the loudest voice in our head. Those who we believe know more than us or those we want to please. The challenge is deciphering what is their belief and what is our own.  

So how can you tell what is your voice when making a decision and what is not? How do you discern between intuition and fear? I’ll share with you a few tricks that help me tell the difference. 

1- Sit with it. Let the fear speak. It’s a simply a voice that wants to be heard. Let it tell you it’s story and all the reasons it exists. Pretending it’s not real doesn’t quiet it. If it feels ignored it will only get louder to demand your attention. Remember fear is the loudest voice in the room. Just like a tantruming child, it eventually calms and dissipates once it’s been acknowledged and had it’s say.

2-After letting the fear speak, ask if it’s true. Fear tends to play out the worst case scenario in order to emphasis its power, but rarely does it offer factual advice. What evidence does it have to prove it’s valid? Where in your history have you died, been desolate, isolated or completely alone forever? When has it not worked out and ruined you for eternity?

If you felt pain, did it decrease? If you lost resources, did you regain them? If you were embarrassed, did you recover? If you were hungry, did you eat again? If you felt alone, did you stay alone? Use your past as proof to show you your previous difficulties were temporary and didn’t ruin you the way you feared. 

3-Take the fear out. If you could take the next step and there was nothing to fear, nothing could possibly go wrong, what would you do?

This question bypasses the fear temporarily to access the heart (intuition) to make a decision that on a deeper level you already know the answer to. This allows the quieter voices of our knowing to be heard and offer clarity while the louder voices step aside. 

Once heard, they will be challenged again by fear. This is normal. Write down the “what if’s” fear presents then write down the opposite “what if.” For example, “what if I end up alone?” versus “what if I have stronger and more authentic connections than I’ve ever had before?”

Or “what if I become broke and have nothing?” versus “what if I have everything I need when I need it most?”

Fear feels heavy and daunting, while truth feels light and free. You don’t have to believe it at first, but the more you practice, the more it will assimilate to become your truth. 

4-Listen to your body. When making a decision, put your hand over your heart and ask the question at large. Then feel how your body responds to the yes or the no. Do your muscles tighten up? Do you cringe when you say one answer? Do you feel light and free with another? Your body has direct access to your intuition when you slow down to listen to it. It holds the answers to all your questions when you give it the chance to speak. 

5- When you listen to someone give their opinion about something, ask yourself how you feel about it. Does it feel true for you? Does it make nervous? Does it put you at ease? Does your body move toward the person or away from them? How do their words feel in your body? Use practices 1-4 to help tune in to what is yours and what is theirs so you can discern the difference. 

Is it really uncertainty we fear, or are we really scared of making the wrong choice and not being in control of the outcome? Are we afraid we can’t trust ourselves and must rely on others to tell us what we need and how to live our lives? 

Every night we go to sleep, we practice trust in the unknown that we will wake the next day and have another opportunity to play. We live with uncertainty and practice faith without even knowing it. It’s not uncertainty we can’t live with, it’s lack of trust we struggle with. 

Fear is not always the enemy, but it sure does ruin the party sometimes when it’s the loud, obnoxious voice telling you what to do and calling you names when you ignore it.

You do know the answer. It’s okay to not trust it sometimes and think twice. We are trained for this. Yet the more you practice connecting with the quieter voice of you, the more you’ll see you had the power all along. The certainty is you. 

Originally published on Mind Life Spirit.

Scared of Losing People You Love? How to Work through the Fear

“People are lonely because they build walls instead of bridges.” ~Joseph F. Newton

“Oh my God, Mom…” she said with a verbal eye roll.

“What?” I responded, sure that I had said too much or overshared like I normally do.

I can’t recall what my daughter and I were discussing openly about while standing in line at the grocery store checkout, but I do remember the girl ringing us up laughing and saying we sounded just like her and her mom.

I paused, unsure what that meant.

“Is this what a healthy mother/daughter relationship sounds like?” I questioned to myself. It was a completely foreign concept to me.

I wanted to create a strong bond with my daughter, but my own relationship with my mother was dysfunctional and boundary-less when I was a child, leading me to overthink everything when it came to creating a relationship with my daughter. 

My mother had significant mental health challenges, which eventually led to her death by suicide.

I had no idea what healthy felt like.

Insecurity plagued me when it came to connecting with my daughter. Was I giving her too much or not giving her enough? Did she trust me? Did she feel comforted by me? Was I too lenient? Was I too distant?

It was hard to tell when the voices of doubt chimed in.

I’ve watched other moms with their daughters since I was a young girl. I wasn’t exactly sure what normal was, but I knew it was not telling their daughters how depressed they were or talking through their marital issues. I knew it was not asking their daughters for advice and relying on them to feel good enough to get out of bed by midday.

I knew my relationship with my mom was different, but it was the only one I had. My normal was gripping codependency and making sure she was okay so she would be there the next day.

I didn’t want that relationship with my daughter. I wanted her to feel whole and complete and deeply loved without having to take care of another human being to feel it.

My journey into motherhood was far from easy. With few role models and almost no experience with children, I felt like I had nothing to go on besides instinct alone. And my instincts were part of my problem. I couldn’t always hear them.

When a child grows up in a volatile environment during their early development, they learn to distrust connection. When what feels comforting and loving one minute can turn to betrayal and rejection in the next, trust in others does not come easily. 

A human’s natural inclination is to want connection, but inconsistency or harm against a person creates a fear in that same connection. When this happens during early development, the child learns to fear what it also deeply desires—which develops into an adult who is quietly terrified to experience and trust reciprocal love.

The only way I knew to how to create that healthy connection was to look deeply into myself and be aware of my patterns and how I was passing them on. And so I observed—a lot.

I observed other families and the way mothers spoke to their daughters. I observed the way the daughters responded to their moms. I watched what drew my daughter in, and I watched what pushed her away.

I learned to listen without speaking (which is absolute torture when codependency feels like home), and I learned to ask more questions instead of giving unsolicited advice. I’m still learning, and most likely will be for the long haul since old habits die hard.

But it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t just learning how to respond to normal discomfort when someone I love was uncomfortable. It was learning to respond to normal discomfort when Iwas uncomfortable. It was learning to not shut down and begin to emotionally detach when insecurity started to get loud. 

Raising my children is one of the biggest challenges I’ve had to navigate with these embedded fears. To give birth to a part of you and know your job is to let this soul grow into themselves while they slowly leave you a little more each day. Pulling them close to me to feel safe and loved and teaching them to leave all at the same time. It’s like one long continual dance of love and grief.

My daughter started college this year and I knew it was going to be tough when she moved on campus, but I had no idea the depth of the grief I would feel. It’s not logical. And the logical part of me likes reason and boxes to put my feelings in. I cognitively knew it was temporary, but my body did not know. It stores memories of every loss and every time I’ve felt left behind, and it was eager to remind me.

“Life will never be the same again. It’s over.”

And that is true. But until those old pangs of grief retell their stories without being dismissed and reprimanded for being dramatic or “too much,” I could not see that the new life may even be better than the one before.

When I let myself experience the sad and angry feelings without reacting to them, they moved through me faster and I could see what I needed to stay connected.

I requested we have small doses of consistent communication during the beginning stages of her being gone so I could show my fears they were unwarranted. We sent pictures on snapchat most days, and it was just enough to feel connected without being intrusive. It worked for us and comforted my childhood-driven fear until it passed.

The first time she came home was over a month after she left. Our oversized puppy expressed it best with his big cries and leaping happiness to be with her again. We missed her and our little family felt the absence of her presence in a big way.

The joy of her energy filling our house was immense. To be in my space again and under my care felt like she never left. She was in and out and visiting friends and doing her thing, but her presence was the reassurance I needed.

It felt like the scared toddler in me re-experienced object permanence. Proof that it’s safe to trust that if love walks out the door, it also returns. Maybe not in the same shape or the same way, but it comes back when it’s ready… and maybe it never truly left to begin with. 

My little-girl heart, still quietly afraid of loss, was healing.

Fears of re-experiencing old pains and heartache are the norm in the human experience, and the more we understand our fears, the more we can work with them to keep our connections strong and secure. It also helps us to not pass them on to our children, our partners, our friends and family.

Our job is not to silence our pain or our fears. Our job is to invite them to the table, let them speak, let them breathe, and let them share their story to completion. Their interrupted cycle is what keeps them around longer as they impatiently wait to be noticed.

When a fear shows itself through strong surges of emotion (sadness, anger, loneliness, etc.), ask it for more information like you would someone else.

You can do this verbally out loud or write it out. Ask, tell me more about that pain or fear. What does it feel like? Where do you feel it in your body? Does it hurt or feel restricting? Have you experienced this feeling before?

Then ask when was the last time you recall feeling this way. What was happening? Who did it involve? What were you scared of? What was the outcome? What might you be doing right now to avoid that same pain? Is it working?

As you start to uncover the sensations and emotions, ask, what would you tell someone else who was experiencing this same pain? What would you tell a child?

And my favorite question, what is the most loving and compassionate thing you can do for yourself right now?

Questions like these give us the opportunity to feel our feelings without transferring them on to someone else and give them a voice they might not normally have. Our inherent need to be seen and heard is met, and we are not ignoring what is asking to be felt. 

The more we let ourselves feel, the more we can hear the voice underneath the feelings once they pass. The quiet intuitive voice who always knows how to nurture us, heal our wounds, and instructs us how to have the courage and ability to have loving relationships with those we care about.

It’s normal to have fear in our connections. It’s part of our experience as humans and often how we learn about ourselves most. But to let those fears dictate the way we connect keeps us from connecting in the ways we truly crave. True intimacy requires vulnerability and a trust that starts within ourselves. The more we are willing to listen to the fears that drive us, the more we are open to the love that feeds us.

What are you really scared of? Let your fears be heard, but let your heart lead the way.

This article was written for and published on Tiny Buddha.

What If There's Beauty on the Other Side of Your Pain?

“The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing.” ~Albert Einstein

“I don’t want to live anymore. I don’t want to be here. I can’t do this. It hurts too much. It’s too hard.”

I’m curious how many times I’ve heard these words over my lifetime. From different people, ages, genders, ethnicities, and walks of life. The words the same, the heaviness no different from one to the next. Hopelessness has a specific tone attached to it. Flat, low, and empty.

Being the child of a parent who committed suicide, there is a familiar inner fear that washes over me when I hear these words. A hyper alertness and tuning in, knowing it’s time to roll up my sleeves.

As a psychotherapist, there is a checklist that goes through my head to make sure I ask all of the right questions as I assess the level of pain they are experiencing.

As a human, a warm wave of compassion takes over as I feel around for what this particular soul needs.

After asking the typical safety questions and determining this person is not at significant risk of ending their life, I ask, “So what is the end goal here? What do you think happens after you die? Where will you go? How will you feel? What will feel different when you’re dead versus how you feel right now?”

The answers vary from “It will be dark and nothingness, no feeling, no existence” to “I’ll be in heaven and done with this,” but more often than not they say, “I don’t know.”

I sometimes question, “Well, if you don’t know how can you guarantee it will be better than this? What if it’s worse? What if you have to relive it all again? What if you are stuck in a dark abyss and can’t get out?”

More times than not they have not thought this through. They are not thinking about what is next, mostly because what they are really saying is “I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

I get that. We all have those moments.

Then I dig in further:

“How do you know your miracle is not around the corner? How do you know relief will not come tomorrow if you allow the opportunity for one more day? What would it be like to be curious about what’s next instead of assuming it will all be just as miserable?

Since you have not always felt like this, is it possible you may one day again feel joy and freedom?

If you look at your past, you’ll see you have had many fears and low moments. Did they stay the same or did they change? Most of your fears did not come to be, and if they did, you survived them—you made it through. You may have even learned something or strengthened your ability to be brave.

If you turn around, you can see there is a lifetime of proof that your world is always changing and shifting. You’ll see many moments when it may have felt like things were not going the direction you wanted, but you’ll likely see an equal number of moments that led you to exactly what you needed. Use those as evidence that your surprise joy may be just around the corner.”

During these conversations, my own curiosity resurfaces. I often ponder if my mother held out a little longer what her life would have looked like. I wonder if another medication would have helped her. Or if the words of an inspiring book may have offered her the hope to keep holding on. Or if the feeling of the sun on her face would have kissed her long enough for her to want a little bit more.

What if she held on to the curiosity of what was to come instead of deciding there were no surprises or joy left? Would she have felt the bittersweet moment of watching me graduate from high school? Would she have been there to cheer me on when I earned my master’s degree hoping to help people just like her? Would she have held my daughter, her first grandchild, and wept tears of joy knowing she made it?

Who knows what her life would have been like if she held on for one more day? I will never know, but I am curious.

I have sat with countless children and adults while they are deep in their pain. I ache for them, cry for them, and also feel hope for them. I wonder out loud what will happen next that we cannot see. 

I’ve seen pregnancies come when hope had left, new relationships be birthed when the people involved were sure they would never feel loved again, new jobs appear out of nowhere at just the “right” time. I’ve seen illnesses dissipate once people started paying attention to themselves, and moments of joy build in the hearts of those who were certain there was no light left.

The truth is, we don’t know what will happen next, but we know we have made it this far. How do we know tomorrow won’t be exactly what we’ve been waiting for?

I believe our baseline feeling as humans is peace. The loving calm that fills us when we are in the presence of those we adore. The kind of whole that we feel when we’ve done something we feel proud of and we reconnect to the love we are made of. The way we feel when we are giving love to others and the way we feel when that love is returned.

I also believe that the human experience is filled with struggle and hardship and challenge. I don’t think we are getting out of it. I believe we are equipped with the power to lean in to our pain to let it move through us. To use our experiences as our strength and our knowledge for the next wave of frustration.

I don’t believe we are supposed to suffer, but rather learn to thrive in the face of hardship and use hope as the steering wheel to guide us through… knowing even though the light may not be right in front of us, it’s just around the corner. 

And the more we employ this faith and our practices that support us, the quicker we are able to return to the peace that lies underneath.

In the moments of hardship, what would it be like to allow for curiosity? To not only acknowledge the feeling in front of us—and feel it—but to also allow for the possibility of what is to come.

All of our experiences come with the free will to choose how we will respond to them. With openness and wonder or dismissal and resistance. It’s also okay to feel it all at once. The feelings will pass. They always do.

The next time you feel stuck in a feeling, or what feels like a never-ending experience, consider thinking, I wonder what will come of this. I wonder what I will gain. I wonder what strengths I will develop and how I will support myself. I wonder what beauty lies on the other side of this pain. Don’t push through it but surrender into it.

Then allow for curiosity. Be open. You never know what surprises the day may bring. Maybe today is the day it all changes. Or maybe tomorrow. You may not know the day, but you can be ready and open for when it arrives.

Original post published on Tiny Buddha.

What Is Holding You Back From Trusting Yourself?

Several years back when I was newly divorced, had just left my job and was building a new life for myself and my kids, I met my friend Jayne. Our serendipitous meeting left us instant friends when we both discovered we were on nearly the same exact path.

We both had left our jobs, were divorced/single moms, broke, healing our past, and losing and shifting many friendships in the process. We began supporting each other every day with inspiring texts or examples of what we were learning through facing our fears. Our motto: Trust Yourself, Trust the Process. And like every other human, we wanted proof we could.

Jayne was the first person I text when I was inspired to write 30 Days to Me. She even wrote affirmations for each day I wanted to include. She cheerlead me through the process and I relied on her wisdom and love. I trusted her guidance and support completely. 

A year into knowing and growing with Jayne, she died in her sleep. The night she died we spent the evening together prepping for a group and sharing how magical life was. I wasn’t just crushed, I was terrified. 

My biggest fear was that all I believed I could trust was a lie.  I trusted Jayne was who I would work with for the long haul. I trusted she would continue to guide me when I was lost. I trusted I could fully rely on her support and wisdom and in one instant- she was gone. 

The pain of the loss scared the shit out of me and my old fears of attachment came rushing back in. I didn’t want to get to close to anyone ever again. 

Yet, what if I hadn’t trusted myself to befriend this earth angel? My intuition assured me she was meant to be my friend. What if I never let myself get close to her? 

I would not have had a bold cheerleader to inspire me to share my story. I would not have followed through writing a book that I knew would be helpful for others, as well as for me. I would not have connected with the strength inside me to keep trusting myself and my path- even when it hurt like hell. 

And the truth is, in many ways, Jayne never left me. Her angelic presence still works with me, as I believed she would. Her words, forever etched in mind, remind me to trust myself and the process. Her unexpected exit reminds me to live in the moment because you truly don’t know what is going to happen next.

These are the stories I remind myself when I’m in an uncomfortable place not fully trusting what direction to go. They allow me to pause and know that whatever happens, and whatever I choose, I’m going to be okay. We all have these stories- many of them.

Here’s a reminder- everything we experience is meant to teach us something. The joy, the pain, the hope, the disappointment- all of it. 

Some of it feels amazing and we want more. Some of it sucks and we want to forget it ever happened. Yet all of it is part of our experience of how to truly LIVE.

I often hear people say they can’t trust themselves because their choices bring them down a road that was painful. Yet what did that pain teach you? Where did it lead you? What door opened when another closed?

Pain is meant to help us open our eyes, not close them. 

What are the experiences you’ve had that stopped you in your tracks and fed your fear? Is that fear still leading the way?

What fear is currently holding you back from living? Why are you scared to trust yourself? What would your life look like if you let your deepest desires lead over your fear?

Spend a few minutes sitting with these questions to see what it is your heart wants you to know. 

How Training My Pandemic Puppy Taught Me Where We Are Losing Ourselves

I learned something very interesting about the human condition the other day while training my puppy. At three and a half months old he had been doing very well with training; listening intently and enjoying the praise of his behavior meeting our expectations. After a week or so he started to get cozy in his new digs and realized we were going to love him no matter what. He then began to regress a bit. Peeing in the house, not sitting or staying on command and no longer meeting our requirements for praise. 

I turned to our online puppy class for help and caught a video about using a sound clicker to pair with his meal as a reward. I would pair the click and the food so he would respond to the click to do whatever I asked. Of course! Classic behavioral conditioning. This made perfect sense. I needed to make him work for his sustenance, praise and general well being. Brain washing at it’s best. 

This was not a do what we ask and get praised approach, but a survival response. In order to get his basic needs met, he would need to behave in the way I guided him. I was excited to start manipulating him to do what I wanted. 

After three days of clicker training during meals, I was amazed how quickly he performed and met my expectations. Not with tail wagging praise. Not with a desire to please me. Just to make sure he was able to eat. He did all that we asked and did so with little resistance. 

It then dawned on me how quickly he learned to adapt to get what he needed and how easily this became an ingrained pattern. The more we click and feed, the more he does what is asked when we click. We were amazed by his wonderful behavior and submissiveness and he is slowly becoming a puppet to meet our needs and desires. 

Yes, we say we are doing it to “help” him. We want him to come to us when we call to keep him safe. We want him to stay in place at times to ensure he is out of danger. But really, ultimately, we just want to control him and are delighted we have found a way to mold him into what we want…out of “love.”

We reward accordingly. 

As a psychotherapist, this gave me seriously good insight into what I’m working on with myself and with my clients. I can see the thought and behavior patterns which are conditioned based on our early life’s training. I can see how our culture and environment told us to behave a certain way to get our needs met. 

In order to receive love and praise, we must meet the expectations of our trainer (parents, teachers, peers, culture) and are rewarded with this basic need of love and acceptance. It does not matter if it feels good to us or not- in order to get, you must give. 

Do this people pleasing training on repeat in various environments for 10, 20, 30, 40 plus years, and then question why it’s so hard to retrain ourselves to be who we are underneath all the conditioning.

You know you’re in there, but why is it so scary to set yourself free? The child who had to get their needs met. The teenager who just wanted attention and to be liked. The adult who wanted to experience the balance of giving and receiving love. 

Why are you so hard to access?

Because you were conditioned not to be yourself. You were conditioned to perform. To meet the needs and expectations of others. To survive, you must fit in. 

You must be the puppet who eats the scraps after each click of expectation. If you want to get through this, you gotta perform. If you want to be happy, make sure your trainer is happy. Play the part. Sit, stay, heal on command. This is what you do to survive. 

Am I explaining with a touch of drama? Yes I am. Because drama is what peaks our attention and heightens our feelings one way or another. Another learned response to keep us engaged. 

So how do you know you’ve been clicker trained to not be who you are? What are the signs of over training? 

-Rarely being comfortable in your skin. 

-Thinking of how others will respond or feel before making a decision that feels best for you and your life. 

-Praising “selflessness” in others and feeling shame when you consider your own feelings and desires. 

-Going blank when someone asks you what you like to do for fun—because you stopped allowing yourself to enjoy life long ago. 

-Waiting for a permission slip to give you time, space and freedom to be who you are. 

-Feeling ongoing resentment that you never have what you want

-Often taken advantage of and questioning why people are so frequently inconsiderate

-And the ultimate, looking in the mirror and not recognizing who you see. Or even worse, not liking them.

If this sounds familiar, you too were clicker trained early on and are still working to re-condition yourself to be who you are and live your life in a way you want. You too, are an active participant of the human experience. Welcome.

So how do you re-condition yourself to return to who you are?

A simple practice to see how strong your conditioning is to capture how often you give yourself away to be rewarded with praise, acceptance, money, power, authority or something you feel you are missing. You can do this by tracking how you feel in your interactions with others for three days or longer.

At the end of the day note where you chose to do things you didn’t want to do because it was the “right” thing to do or where you felt you had to earn or maintain something while giving up some part of you. This will show you where your imbalances lie and where your patterns are most ingrained. The more awareness you have to your habits, the more you have the ability to make another choice and steer yourself into the reward of being true to you. 

As you begin to strengthen your ability to choose yourself and your own wellbeing, your life will slowly begin to rebalance. You will note that some of your crankiness will turn to gratitude and your resentment and frustrations will begin to decrease. Joy will make a more prominent appearance in your life and your overall outlook will rise with you. 

As your hunger to feed your own appetite increases, you may begin to question how those scraps were ever enough. You deserve the full meal of your life. Create the clicker response to feed yourself in a way that feels good, honest and real. Click, reward, repeat until you like who and where you are. It’s what you are designed for. And the bonus…when you feed you to be who you are, it inspires the rest of us to do the same. 

Original Article Posted On Elephant Journal

Living in the Gap Between Where You Are and Where You Want to Be

This is a transcript from my podcast on how to truly LIVE while in the gap of where you are and where you want to be. Helpful tips on ways to be more present and even enjoy the waiting in the gap.

Today we are going to be talking about some helpful practices and perspectives to help you while you are living in the gap between where you are now and where you want to be.

You know that feeling of disappointment, impatience and confusion of why you are not where you want to be yet? Its normal. And purposeful.

I know, I don’t care for it either, but its okay, we are going to be practicing making it work for us instead of wishing it away.

I want you to start recognizing the power and purpose of your path and why waiting is not actually meant to torture you, but to help you.

Let’s start with a visual practice.  I want you to visually or manually draw a line of where you are now and where you want to be. Look at the line and think about what you are going to put in the dash between now and the inevitable future.  How do you want to live your life?  What story do you want to tell when this is over?

When we have symptoms of depression, it’s because we are looking at the past and feeling sadness and remorse or missing our experiences…wanting more or wanting different.  This can be extremely draining and defeating. However, we can also choose to use our past as proof that good things happen to us regularly and often times when we least expect it.  This is a switch in perspective and using our past for good.

When we have symptoms of anxiety, we are charging ahead and looking at the future with fear of the unknown and often times creating scary or upsetting visions in our heads. Outcomes which notoriously don’t come even close to happening. This can also be extremely draining and defeating.  But we can also use the future to create visions of what we want more of and how it will feel to be there…which provides us motivation to keep going. 

So we are going to use the future and the past to work for us, not against us.

Let’s start with the past.

We can use the past as proof that essentially, most of what we worry about does not come to fruition. Life has a mysterious and miraculous way of working things out. You have an entire lifetime of proof that your biggest fears do not translate to your actual reality. This is incredibly helpful when we are stuck in a cycle of worry. You have a ton of evidence that you are going to be okay.

This allows us to look back and see how the energy we used worrying about what was not going to happen could have been used elsewhere. Here is our proof that really, we don’t need to fear because things are going to be okay and we are going to be okay. Even if we fall a couple times, it’s still going to be okay. We always get what we need.

Often during the time between when you wanted something to happen and when it finally did, you worried a bit that it might not or that you would feel terrible in the process of waiting. Which is likely what you are doing right now…making your life feel uncomfortable and stealing from the potential enjoyment of the moment that is right in front of you. 

Since you now know that things were going to work out, how would you have lived your life in the time between? Of when you decided you wanted something and when you actually received it? This is where your power of choice lives and making it work for you.

Would you have spent more time connecting with friends or family? Would you have put in more effort connecting with your kids? Would you have planned the vacation you’ve been dreaming about or even just taken more time off from work to play? Would you have said yes more to the opportunities that presented themselves? If you had worried less about the outcome, what would you do? How would you have wanted to live in the space in between?

Let’s jump to the future now.  You have a vision of what you want your life to look like or at least feel like.  Sit there for a bit. Use your power of looking ahead…you’re already good at this if you a worrier…and see and feel what you want.  Color it in your mind or feel it in heart….or both! Imagine being at your destination you are longing for. You have arrived and it feels amazing! You’re as happy as you hoped you’d be. 

Now look back to where you are now..in present time…and see yourself standing there.. There you are waving…helloooo…you may feel far away or you may be right around the corner but you have a little distance between then and your future now.

Look at the gap between.  You’re at your destination feeling or goal.  You have a clean and open canvas of the past. How do you want to remember this time period? With worry and regret, or living and creating opportunity. What do you want it to look like? This is your masterpiece to create.

Do you want to let go and play more? What are the connections you want to make? With whom and doing what? What do you want to learn about? What do you want to explore?

What would you like to get more comfortable with? What fears would you like to face? How do you want to live? How do you want to feel?

You already know its going to work out, so how do you want to craft and create that time period?

I’d suggest visualizing and feeling it and then writing down what you want it to look or feel like. Plan out your goals and visions for that time period of how you want it to look and taste. Let’s make it taste really really good. See the activities you want to do, the people you want to meet, the experiences you want to have..the opportunities you want to create and how you want to feel!

See and feel the life you are going to have in the gap- because it’s happening right now.

Ok…now that we have a sense of what you want it to look like, let’s also look at a couple of other practices that will remind you of the purpose of your path and that you have whatever you need as you go along your way to boost up your trust in your path.

We’ll start with your accomplishments. This one can be really helpful. 

Where have you been and how far have you come?

Make a list of accomplishments in the past year or six months or even six weeks as a reminder of how your visions become your reality when you choose to make them so. What have you accomplished that you set out to do? What have you accomplished that you didn’t set out to do? What are the gifts that have come from these accomplishments along the way?

When we look at our accomplishments we can start to see the purpose of our path a little clearer. We can see why we had to wait for certain things or that what we thought we wanted turned out to be even better than we expected. And we can feel a ton of pride in our efforts and the fact that we have already created and done so much.

I am personally fantastic on focusing on the what’s next as opposed to appreciating the what’s been and what’s now and have to really slow myself down sometimes to look at the road I’ve traveled and see how every pit stop, speed bump, and detour had its own story and value.  Rarely did I see it in the moment, but the meaning always find its way to me. And the stories are inspiring and beautiful…even the really painful ones.

When I look back at my accomplishments, it builds my trust that everything I am doing has meaning and purpose. Even the long naps and the short walks and the second guessing to remind myself that I’m still learning. The yelling matches with my kids, the I’m sorry’s and I love you’s and even the moments I was certain I would be alone forever. The days I was broke and the day I realized I was never going to be broke-all important. And all proof that I’m okay and history shows that’s not changing anytime soon. Somehow, some way, it works itself out.

Another practice to help you while you live in the gap is to practice living in the now.  And the simplest way to do this is to look at the life in front of you and identify what you are grateful for…in your life…right now.

Look at the life you have. What do you appreciate about it? What feels good about your relationships? Your job? The stuff you are learning about yourself. The way you manage your responsibilities?  The weather? The place you call home? The clothes you wear? Your current lifestyle? The opportunities you have. Anything you feel good about.

Gratitude is a powerhouse mood changer. It’s not just saying something is meaningful, but feeling it. When I am thinking and looking at what I am grateful for, I am also practicing feeling the joy that comes with it. The way it lightens me up and allows me to feel content. Gratitude at times is an effort. I have to work at it. 

But man, when I feel it, its such a high. To look around and feel the good vibes of the world in front of me. Its contagious. This is where I let the law of attraction feed me with one good feeling after the next to watch it grow.

When you are feeling grateful for what’s in front of you, you are living in the present moment and not concerning yourself about what may or may not come to be, because at that moment, all is well.

When you’re feeling impatient, try making a list of things that currently feel good in your life, as well as why you are grateful for them. We are practicing feeling the gratitude, not just listing it off. We want to ingest it.

If you feel grateful for the sunshine, feel what it felt like when it was cloudy for days to feel the difference. If you feel grateful for your health, remember and feel the time you were ill or injured to appreciate it even more. 

Notice how it feels when you focus on the positive and notice how long it lasts- or doesn’t. This will give you an awareness if you are countering your experiences of feeling grateful.

It will also help you stay present for longer periods, which again, will help to manage the discomfort in the gap of where you are now and where you want to be. And more importantly make the moments work for you.

I know the discomfort of the gap well and I’m practicing with you.  And in that practice, I’m choosing to live in a way that works for me….making choices…every single day. I hope you’ll join me! 

How are you currently living in your gap?

The Resurrection of Faith...a Story of Serendipity

For about 5 or 6 years now my children have been asking for a dog. Well, first they asked for a sibling…right after I got divorced. I don’t think they were quite grasping how that works. Since no baby was happening, they harped on getting a dog and I have consistently said no. I enjoy dogs, but I didn’t want the responsibility that comes with them. 

Fast forward to two months ago. I asked myself what I was really scared of when thinking about getting a dog. The answer came quickly. Loss of my freedom. I have two independent and responsible teenagers, which means my freedom in many ways, has returned. My daughter is turning 17 and has a car. She does errands for us and even gets her brother around. Why would I want to give up any more of my time and energy?

I then realized…wait…I have two responsible and independent teenagers…who would likely do a fantastic job with the responsibility of a dog. I then gave them a month to show me they were ready by keeping their rooms and the house clean without me asking. I didn’t actually think they would do it. They did. Then I asked them to draw up a contract outlining my responsibility versus theirs. They would have 85% of the responsibility and I would hold 15%. This I could commit to. Plus, dogs are cool. I’ve always secretly wanted one. 

I told the kids if we are meant to get a puppy it would find its way to us. I believe in Serendipity. I believe whatever we are meant to have will show up in our life. And yet, during a pandemic when all the regular rules of life have changed, it seemed that we would be doing more of the searching and seeking than letting much in. 

We searched for weeks. If you’ve ever attempted to rescue and adopt a puppy you know it’s an interesting process. And for a feeler like me, I found it odd to be looking for my future family member on what felt like a dating app. A few dogs were available to us, but none that quite felt right. 

Last week, as we prepared to virtually meet another dog who was cute, (aren’t they all?) my daugher’s friend reached out and asked if we were still looking for a puppy because her mom was friends with someone who had a local rescue. She sent us some pictures and one puppy in particular struck me. It’s energy was beautiful and it’s markings drew me in. I wanted to meet this dog and it would be in the state on Sunday. We could meet it then.

Later in the day my daughter told me the pup was a boy and his name was Phoenix. “That’s cool,” I said. “I like that name but not sure if we’ll keep it if we get the dog.”

An hour or two later I was outside sitting in the sun and the puppy’s name popped in my head. 

Phoenix. Wait a minute…Phoenix? That’s some powerful symbolism.  The Pheonix is a sign of deep transformation and renewal. It is known for bursting into flames when it dies and rising from the ashes after death. Wow. That’s a powerful dog.

Then it hit me, we are meeting him on Sunday…Easter Sunday. The day when Jesus rose from the dead and resurrected to prove eternal life, and rebirthing faith and hope. 

Serendipitous.

This dog came to us and was meant to be ours. When we met him this morning, he was calm in our arms and gave us plenty of kisses. His tail wagged and my kids fell in love.  He’s spent the day with us seeming pretty comfortable in our presence and even in his crate. It is clear, he is home. Rebirthed into our hearts in a way that will transform our family. No doubt. This is Serendipity. This is the way Love always makes it’s presence known. Welcome Leo Phoenix Reilly.

I do not subscribe to a particular organized religion, but I do subscribe to Faith. My faith was strengthened today and my heart cracked open just a little bit more. When you’re ready, love finds it’s way. 

Happy Rebirth and Transformation from my family to yours!

The Fall of Man is the Rise of All

When I was about 18 years old, my dad, brother and I had a competition to see who would hold the title of “Man of the House.” We had an electronic dart board in the middle of our living room and used the winner of this game to determine who would hold this esteemed position. Being the most athletic and competitive of the three of us, I used my determined focus to ensure I hit my mark and they met their match. I won.

I was officially -The Man of the House- in all my teenage girlness.

During my brother’s graduation party, my dad and brother waited for my arrival to get the beer flowing as I was the only one who knew how to tap a keg.

My father often remarked he didn’t worry too much about me because when my friends picked me up, there were usually several large young men over 6 feet tall arriving to greet me. He knew I wouldn’t be messed with. Ironically, he never questioned why I was often the only girl in the group. 

The truth is, I was always more comfortable around boys. I had my girlfriends and adored them, but I could not always relate the way I did to boys. The boys seemed simpler, less emotional and I did not want to feel my emotions, so this worked beautifully for me. 

The boys were trained to talk about surface level conversations like sports, girls, cars, and money; nothing too deep. So was I. My father did not talk about feelings. What to do with them, where to put them or that we even had them. He was not trained to either.

As a young child I listened to my mother’s feelings often. I was a deep feeler right there with her. But when she became overwhelmed with emotion, my desire to fix it, to make it stop, took over. This was when I learned that feelings existed, but too many feelings was most definitely not a good thing. When my mother died from not being able to combat the darkness, I was relieved to no longer feel responsible to fix her feelings. It was shortly after I chose to stop feeling mine. 

I pushed them down and was reinforced this by my father who never quite learned that feelings were okay. To be a man, you work, you fix, you safeguard. You push through pain and discomfort and you find a way to make it all work. By all means necessary. 

My first month of college I made amazing new friends who informed me that girls plucked their eyebrows and did not wear white tube socks with every outfit. What?!?

This was mildly devastating to learn but I was grateful that I was learning such truths. I had no idea. 

I later joined a sorority and discovered that women were not so bad after all. They were courageous and fun and could drink almost as much as me. Some of them shoved their feelings down in the ways I could relate to. And yet, they also talked about deep and interesting things that very much spoke to the part of me that loves depth and introspection and behavior. 

I also took women’s studies classes and learned that women had earned less income than men and were not seen as equals in religion and influence. I was shocked. For real. My father had raised me to believe I was no different than a man and any discrepancies between us were simply from physical makeup, not from what we bring to the table. 

It wasn’t until I became a mother where I really began to see my masculine training shift. Nurturing little humans became my focus. Once my daughter was born I was determined to make sure she would not succumb to the overdone world of pink and purple and let her choose her own colors. She did. She always has. She wore dresses when she felt like it and sweatpants and mismatched socks when it struck her fancy. When my son was born I felt similarly. He wore his sister’s princess dresses more than she did and cried big real tears when he learned he could not have a baby out of his own womb.

They have feminine traits and masculine traits. Both of them. They feel feelings and shove them down when they become too much. They try to fix when they want to control or make it okay for someone else. And other times, they sit in silence allowing big feelings to be felt and let them move through them. They embody both energies. 

I’m 45 years old and I am still learning. My default is to fix when things get hard and to make the deep feelings go away. I don’t even realize I’m doing it sometimes because its so deeply ingrained. I noticed this last week after what felt like a highly intense and emotional week for many, and I just want to make all of it okay. For all of us. 

I stop listening and start fixing. This is masculine energy. The energy that wants to control and protect. It is driven and decisive. It is the energy of action and doing. When in overdrive it feels stressful, particularly when not in control. It works harder and more forcefully, at times angered when it can’t take over. When not in control it can come out as aggression, critical and unsupportive. 

Last week I worked myself into numbness. I stopped feeling. It was like my brain hit the screen saver and said- no more till you rest. I heard myself talking but couldn’t even connect with my thoughts. My head did not feel attached to my body. This is a clear sign of disconnection. Wayyy too much energy out (masculine) than energy in (feminine).

Feminine energy is that which nurtures the flow of emotions. It is the energy that lives with understanding and compassion.  It is creative and insightful. Vulnerable and warm. It is the energy that receives, often intuitively and connecting to the universe and all it’s wisdom. When imbalanced it also becomes controlling, manipulative and people pleasing. 

I did not balance my energies with my effort and therefore I felt awful. Physically, emotionally and mentally. 

After a full day of sitting in stillness and slowness pouring energy back into me, I started to feel more like myself. Reading, meditating, napping, and not doing a damn thing for anyone else, the tears that normally keep my eyes moist, returned. I felt in flow in again. Resistant still, but flowing nonetheless.

It was during this time I “heard” what was happening around me and within me. We are all being asked to rebalance our imbalances. We are shifting from one paradigm of masculine dominant energy to invite in more of the feminine. 

“The paradigm of control, domination, fixing and suppression is asking to end. The era of thinking our way through conflict. The masculine in overdrive. The paradigm of feeling, allowing, supporting and creativity is asking to be seen and strengthened. The action of feeling our way through conflict. The feminine is rising. The energies are asked to work together to build a new world. Using logic to support feeling. Using intuition to support intellect.”

We are currently being asked to feel. To lean in. This is part of living serendipitously, in the flow of life. Being in the flow of what is happening and letting what comes up be. Not resisting, but allowing. And this might mean exposing our deep wounds. I sure know mine are coming up. This is good thing. A great thing really. This is how they heal. And we are a world that is asking to heal. 

I heard…”It is not the fall of man, but the rise of all.”

I love this. It speaks to me and I see it in my work with others every single day. It is a time to listen. To really listen (feminine) and then respond to what we hear (masculine). We all have both masculine and feminine energies. All of us. But for quite a while they have been imbalanced. We are being asked to re-unite these energies to work together in union.

This is an amazing time to be alive. You are here for a reason. And so am I. 

Have you noticed any imbalances you may be feeling in to your masculine and feminine energies? Are you giving more than receiving? Are you receiving more than giving? (ie- are you working too much or giving out a lot of energy? Or are you sitting around paralyzed by your feelings and struggling to move?) Pay attention to see where you are and how you can shift. I’m right there with you. 

How are you managing this very big transition into our new lives?

A Simple Practice to Create Proof of Serendipity

I am in the habit of looking for the beauty in the mess that life can bring. I’d like to think it’s because I’ve been bestowed a special pair of glasses to view the world with this lens, but it’s not. It’s taken a lot of practice and tuning into the gifts that come from pain, confusion and fear. 

It also comes from defiance. I stubbornly refuse to believe that life would give us so many obstacles and uncomfortable experiences without some kind of purpose and value. With this belief has come a lot of proof, and for a natural skeptic whose default is fear and anxiety, this has been priceless. A guide to thriving in uncertainty and a map to make sure I always find my way home. It is clear to me, it is my responsibility to share. 

I have to say, that is not always easy. For someone who lives on the fumes of hope some days I know it can sound like magical thinking more than concrete proof. Not everyone wants to find purpose or meaning or understanding, and that’s fine too. 

For me, the need started with survival. I chose to believe life was more than “life sucks and then you die.” I had to. The more I swayed into darkness the easier it seemed to get stuck there. The underworld is familiar territory for someone like me, but I could not allow myself to live there. I knew there was too much more of life to see and explore, and I thrive on adventure. 

This current pandemic experience we are in is yet another challenge. We are well aware of the setbacks and concerns and by now we have heard and seen some of the positives revealing themselves. With every great challenge comes the opportunity to grow and expand in ways we were unable to before. We are seeing a small glimpse, but we are nowhere near what will be revealed as time goes on. If you don’t see the serendipity yet, don’t worry, it will find you. 

In order to see the joy in our experiences, we can practice tuning in. The more we do this the more we see the serendipity that shows we are supported and that life is happening for us. Create a book of proof by tracking the small and unexpected joys that show up each day.

Tracking your daily joys allow you to increase your faith that no matter what happens next, something will help balance it out. It may be a moment that feels good and lets you know it’s not always going to be hard and challenging. It may be a promise of hope or a reminder of being loved and seen. It might be someone reaching out you wanted to talk to or an opportunity that you didn’t previously see. It might be an idea that pops in your head or something that somehow shifts your mood. A compliment, a story you hear, inspiration or feelings of love and support of any kind. These moments give you proof that in some way you are supported, even in the smallest of ways. And the small stuff adds up.

For example, earlier this week I went for a walk in my neighborhood, as I often do. On occasion I see others outside, but not very often. With the closing of schools and more people staying home I saw an increase in people being outside. I unexpectedly began talking to an older gentleman in a nearby culdesac. He’s 82 years old and was babysitting his grandchildren since they don’t have school. He was teaching the youngest how to ride a bike and got right on that bike to show him himself! He introduced himself and shared how he finds many people are afraid of death. I shared how I have noticed that many people are afraid of living. He told me he was most recently employed as a hospice chaplain, but prior to that was an insurance agent. I was curious how he moved in such a direction and he shared how he started off as a Catholic priest…until he met his wife. I was incredibly fascinated by his story and his experience. He grew up in Dublin and worked in South Africa for a while learning the village’s native tongue so he could minister to them. He knows and speaks 10 languages! In his last bit of work he said he taught people how to live before they died. I said, I do the same exact thing. Serendipitous.

What struck me most about our brief connection was how easily our conversation flowed and how meaningful it was for two strangers to connect in such a similar way on different paths of life. It quickly elevated my mood and brought me a sense of peace. We all walk different paths in life, but we want the same things. To love and feel loved and find connection to life in some way. To feel alive. 

Later in the week I was invited to an impromptu virtual happy hour with some girlfriends and found myself laughing and thoroughly enjoying their company. I felt some normalcy and comfort in what has been a sea of chaos. We are normally lucky to connect once a year! Between spending more quality time with my kids and embracing the new challenges with the curiosity of what’s next, it has been a wild start with both joy and grief. Reminding us all of the duality of life, and what it means to truly live. 

Consider starting a book of proof that life is happening for you and that serendipity is simply a moment of awareness away. When you tune into the joy, you tune into the hope and hope feels so much better than fear. 

Feeling Fear of Uncertainty?

In times of stress and heightened anxiety it’s hard to grasp the belief that life is happening for us. When we want to close off and hide, we don’t see the safety outside of the walls we’ve built. It’s a defense we created long ago at the first experience of perceived danger. We focus on keeping threat out and keeping ourselves safe from the unknown. 

It’s a learned and fair response. We work to make the unknown a known to protect ourselves.

Here’s the good news: the unknown is already known. You have a lifetime of experiencing fear. You know how to do this. Use your past as proof that in times of great distress, you have created many stories as to what could happen and rarely, if ever, do they come true.

And if they have, you have survived and gained something from them. Sometimes that gain is strength and resilience or new supports, and sometimes it’s deeper joy than you knew possible. But each time, your experiences shifted and stress lifted returning you back to the feeling of safety. We ebb and flow. This is expected. 

This is also the design of life. Experiences that challenge our biggest fears to return us to a place of peace. Our emotions are temporary. Our experiences are temporary. We are ever shifting and evolving as each opportunity asks us to love deeper and harder and with more faith than the time before. 

When fear sidles up next to you ask it what is it’s root. Is it fear of loss of control? Uncertainty? Is it fear of rejection? Is it loss? Fear of being alone? Is it not having basic needs met? Call it by name. 

Then ask for an example when this fear came to fruition in your past, if ever. What was your experience? How did you get through it? What helped as you navigated it? What did you learn from it? How are you still learning from it? What can help you now as the energy  moves through your system? 

Identify ways you can support yourself or ask for support in the process. 

When we are feeling fear we like to feel in control of something. Use this practice to control how you support yourself and others in times of distress.

It shifts our energy and brings us back to our core nature of peace. And who couldn’t use a little more of that? 

Living Serendipitously, in the flow of life, is the practice of feeling allll of your feelings. They all have a seat at the table. Yet at the core, at the head, is Love. After all feelings voice their views, Love, our True and Higher Self has the final say. Love is the only Energy that stays consistent and unshakable.

I recognize in times of heightened fear, we want more evidence than words. I will be writing more about creating this evidence later.

For today, practice listening to any fear that pops up and letting it speak. Use your past of proof you are going to be okay and you know what you are doing. Although our current experience is unprecedented, our experience with navigating fear is not. You’ve got this.

When Heart and Head Team Together...a Story of Serendipity

Facebook memories have a nice way of keeping track of things I’ve forgotten, as well as helping me remember how time sure does fly. I was reminded recently I’ve been in my current home for 8 years. I thought it had been 5! I then found this piece I wrote about buying my house on faith when all of my “reality checks” said not to. A true story of serendipity and what happens when you listen to your heart, your intuition, when you need guidance the most. 

I stared at the lined paper with numbers scratch written all over it. The numbers at the bottom stuck out like they were written in fluorescent permanent marker. Negative. One big negative. My hope sunk.

On paper my income would not cover my monthly expenses. I could not afford to buy the house I was living in and yet I promised my children I would. And more importantly, they believed me.  I had moved into the house with my children and my husband only four months prior and it had been nonstop chaos since.  Due to an error on the house owner’s paperwork, the house we were scheduled to buy was no longer available to us unless we bought it through a short sale. If you know anything about a short sale, they are anything but short.

Fortunately we were able to move into the house and wait out the process while living there. Unfortunately, three months into living in the home, my husband and I decided to separate. This was not part of the plan.

In an emotional moment of our new reality, one of my children cried “I don’t want to move again.” It was as if their words were aimed directly at my heart. I responded without hesitation, “You won’t move. I will buy you this house.” And I meant it. 

The moving process had been stressful. The arguing between my husband and I continuous. I moved them into the house the very first week of school. I knew more change would be too much. I was determined that it would happen and I would make it work.

I was full of faith. Until I looked at the numbers on the piece of paper which implied- I was seriously mistaken. 

I melted into a mild depression. I could not understand why my heart felt so strongly I could buy the house, but my head looked at my heart like it lived in a universe far away from reality. What was I thinking? At the end of the day the answers were in black and white. I was not going to be able to make it work.

Not only did I not have the down payment required to keep my monthly cost lower, I did not have the income to manage the monthly expenses of life itself. The disappointment I felt in myself and my situation was heart wrenching. The stress of my impending legal separation, finagling how I would survive financially and the massive amount of grief I felt as it seemed my entire life was falling apart was a lot to endure.

And yet, the answer to stay couldn’t have felt more right. I distinctly remember looking out my bedroom window one evening at the beautiful view from my house on the hill and thinking…”I’ve come here to heal.” I didn’t even know what that meant.

It turns out, it meant I would spend many months ahead ruminating over my choices. Wondering if I was truly making the best decisions for my family. Letting my heart speak to my head and compassionately tell it we would be okay. And then dissolving into myself in fear wondering if I was in fact, losing my mind.

I spent the next 9 months not knowing what was going to happen next. My husband moved out and bought a home. I paid my rent each month and prayed the following month would be the same. I had no real idea if the short sale would even go through and if I would even be able to afford it. The numbers on the paper were not budging.

I inherited some stock from my grandmother when she passed. I planned on cashing it in for the down payment, but it would still be nowhere enough. I cashed in savings bonds from the year of my birth. I scraped any savings I had. It looked like I may have just had enough. Maybe I could really do this.

And then it was official. The short sale was approved. I would be able to buy the house if I could come up with the money. What happened next was nothing short of a miracle. The day I went to cash out my stock the numbers had jumped up and I suddenly had more than enough for the down payment. The numbers on the paper changed overnight. I would not only have enough to buy the house and keep my mortgage somewhat manageable, I would have enough to help with some the starter bills that came with it. 

Because my husband and I were legally separated and he had bought his own home, the financial split was clean and had no legal issues to contend with. It’s almost like my buying the house was meant to be…

My leap of faith had paid off in ways I could not have predicted.

For the next year I buckled down and found ways to afford the house on my own that I wasn’t sure my husband and I could afford together. I felt strong, empowered, and continued to practice trusting myself and what felt right. 

The following year I resigned from my secure and stable paying school counseling job to work for myself. I still wanted to help people but I also wanted to write. I started a private practice for counseling and also officially ended my marriage. Two years later I had two books published in the same year, a self help book and a children’s book. I have a successful private practice working the hours I want to work and my bills continue to be paid. I am in awe nearly every month when I sit down to pay them and I realize what I felt was true, is. 

There is something to be said about using your head. To map out the possibilities, to make a plan, to see what could happen in black and white. But the truth is, we just don’t know. Our mind is unable to see the future and the outcome of our decisions. Yet our heart seems to have eyes that pierce through the unknowns, the darkness and focus on the dim light of clarity that is just out of reach.

Trust based living is not always easy. It requires practice of sitting with the fear and listening to it instead of pushing it away. It asks for check ins and disaster planning and poses fearful questions that are unable to be answered right away. It involves understanding yourself just enough to know that you are reliable and can be counted on even when things look bleak. 

But the alternative, to walk through life staying in one place that feels unsatisfying, unfulfilling and downright disempowering just because it’s “easy”, is not living. It’s existing. And at least for me, existing sounds terrifying. 

The numbers may not add up. The black and white may look bleak. Your head may be questioning your heart’s credibility, but that does not mean its time to end the dream. You have no concrete proof that either your head or your heart is right. But you do have proof that standing still gets you more of exactly where you are. 

You don’t really know what is going to happen if you take the next step. But you do know what will happen if you don’t.

The choice is yours. It always has been. 

Are You Beating Yourself Up for Not Changing Quickly?

“What is wrong with me?!? I know all of this, why don’t I just do it?!?”

I hear this question from every single one of my clients on the path to change. I’ve asked it often to myself. The inner critic is a loud one. The answer is always the same.

“There is nothing wrong with you. Everything you are experiencing is normal. It’s a practice.”

If I had a penny for every time I say “it’s a practice,” I’d be retired. But it truly is. All of it. Particularly when you’ve committed to change. Or when change has committed itself to you.

The feelings you feel are normal. The frustration. The impatience. The fear. The hope. The joy. And even the euphoria. All of it is normal. If there was a “right” track, your varied feelings are letting you know you are on it. 

Here’s what’s happening:

Let’s say you have been taking the same route to work or school or the market (wherever you frequently go) and you know the route well. You could get there with your eyes closed, and most often you do. You drive or walk along the path on auto pilot. Sometimes you don’t even know how you got there because you stopped paying attention a mile back. It’s a comfortable route. You know the pattern well and you know what to expect. 

One day someone says to you, “Hey, I know a better route for you to take to get there. When you hit the stop sign, you just have to turn right instead of left. The route may take you longer, but the scenery is spectacular and you will receive much more joy taking this route.”

You become excited by the prospect. You welcome the advice and take a right at the stop sign the first day. You agree. The new route has a much better view and you enjoy it so much more. You see and feel things you didn’t even know existed! You are committed to going this new way. 

The next day you almost forgot to turn right at the stop sign. Even though you were excited for the new route, you got lost in your thoughts and almost turned left again. You are glad you slowed down enough to turn right and the new route is equally spectacular as the day before. 

The following day you turn left at the stop sign. You don’t even realize you are on the old route until you pass by the same signs you always see. The ones which feel like more of the same and have become the beaten path. The ones you consciously chose to not go down anymore because the new route was more appealing to you. Once you recognize where you are you feel instant disappointment. How could you have missed it? The self shaming starts. The self criticism. You said you were committed to the new route. What’s wrong with you?

Again, nothing. 

Because you’ve traveled that route for so long, it’s become very comfortable. You know just how long it will take to get you where you are going. You are used to the obstacles and know how to navigate past them, even if you don’t like them. In many ways, it’s easier. You don’t even have to think.  It’s automatic to choose that path. 

In order to make the new route your chosen path, you must practice slowing down. For change to occur, you must turn right at the stop sign. You must break at the stop sign each and every day. You must consciously make the choice to turn right, over and over again, until it becomes the new well traveled path. Until then, it requires consistent slowing, and pausing and feeling out the direction you are in. Does it feel new and unchartered or like more of the same? 

We are creatures of habit. In our thought patterns, our choices, our behaviors, our likes and dislikes. Even when we say we like change, we generally only like the change we think we can control. Most of us are still learning to embrace the unknown and get cozy with it. To trust that when we turn right at the stop sign it really will be a better path than the one we currently know. 

If you keep turning left, give yourself a little credit. At some point you were assured that was the best path. In many ways it worked for you. It wasn’t until you knew the other route was an option that you even chose to take it. You can’t go down a road you didn’t even know was there. But now that you do, you have to want it. You have to be willing to practice stopping at the stop sign. 

Some days you will still turn left and that is okay. Some days you will do it on autopilot and some days you will make the conscious choice to turn left because the old way is easier and comforting. That is also okay. In the process of change and healing, it’s allll normal. 

We will turn left many, many, many times before we eventually turn right habitually. Self compassion is essential when understanding that nothing about slowing down and changing habits is easy. But you’ve had plenty of practice which shows you CAN learn new things and you CAN create lasting change. You weren’t born tying your shoelaces or knowing the alphabet. You practiced learning, over and over again. Turning left is no different. You will get there and that new route will be glorious. The unexpected joys and serendipities will be plentiful. You may even begin enjoying the ride. 

How have you struggled with making lasting change? What are your biggest challenges? And most importantly, how do you support yourself through it?