anxiety

Why I Let Go Of My Fear Of The Comments Section

April 2, 2019 by Must Love Crows Leave a Comment

I’m taking a course right now which is requiring me to do something I usually avoid like the plague.

No, it’s not dairy or gluten, or high fructose corn syrup. 😂

It’s reading the comments section!

I’m being prompted every day to read and interact with other students in the comments.

At first, I flat-out dismissed the idea, and with good reason.

I’m not into keeping tabs on what other people have to say when I’m taking a course. I’m trying to learn, not find out what Sara from Idaho thinks about what we’re learning.

I don’t want other people’s opinions in the mix while I’m taking in information from the experts. Right now I’m learning from a world-renowned psychologist and meditation teacher, and I don’t want anyone or anything getting in the way of me absorbing every last ounce of what she has to share.

But I’d be remiss if I didn’t address the fact that the comment section scares the shit out of me.

I’ve had a small yet effective-at-freaking-me-out sampling of shitty comments over the years.

Misogyny from both men and women? Check! Ego driven passive aggressive grossness? Check! People who don’t even realize they’re being assholes? Check!

Mix mucho passive aggressive responses with a bevy of volatile life experiences, and you’re going to get the blinks whenever you’re perusing the wall of potential ignorance that is the comment section.

So those are some legit reasons why I feel compelled to avoid the comments. It can be volatile territory, a gathering place for ignorance and aggression.

I feel this duty to myself in the name of self-compassion to not entertain that kind of stuff. I don’t want to give it my energy any more than I’ve already given it in this lifetime.

But this course is really poking at me and pushing me to dig into that discomfort. I mean, it’s a course about facing your fears. If ever there was a time to face them, it’s now, right? 😂

Yet still, I began the program wanting to avoid the comments in the course.

Except its part of the program to look at them and contribute to them, so I HAD to stop avoiding them. AHHHHHHH!!!!

An initial “hard pass” on perusing what other people have to say has recently turned into engaging a bit, which has turned into me possibly changing my mind about reading comments altogether.

The catalyst for my shift? The responses my classmates offered to the question, What are your fears?

The answer everyone gave, in both direct and indirect ways, was the Fear of not being good enough.

In this case, comment sections can help us realize that our fear experience is not an anomaly.

They can help us realize that fear is not solely our own experience, it’s a shared experience.

When we are free of the belief that our fear is an anomaly, we are unburdened by a great degree of heaviness.

Case in point, consider the degree of fear you’re carrying when you believe the lie that you are alone in feeling afraid.

To believe you’re alone in your experience, you’d need to believe that you’ve got a serious abnormality – an inherent deficit going on. So you’d end up with the initial fear, plus the fear that you’re alone, and then the fear that you’re intrinsically flawed.

That’s a lot of heaviness to carry with you, right? No wonder you’re tired and anxious all the time!

After reading the comment section in my course it’s clear to me that a lot of our fears can easily be proven wrong.

My mind wanders to imagining the degree of transformation that would come if we all dug into working towards becoming conscious of the fact that EVERYONE is afraid of not being good enough.

In this case, reading the comments can help us disentangle from the lies we tell ourselves about our fear experience.

It’s not “Our” fear, but “The” fear – A fear felt by the collective.

If we become deeply aware of this truth, we won’t feel the need to be so harsh to ourselves and others when we felt afraid.

We could let go of some of the judgment we carry. Wouldn’t that be amazing? 😍

Becoming deeply aware takes work, of course.

Meditation is required. Our brains are wired to focus on judgement first and foremost.

It takes a commitment to keep coming back to noticing fear through meditation in order to change the default setting within us.

But it is absolutely possible to experience a great amount of peace through this work. I am proof of that!

Some days will be smoother sailing than others. If you’re not sleeping well, or have the flu, or someone’s behaviour is triggering fear within you, it can be hard to stay the course, and tough to remember how to be kind to yourself.

But there’s an instantaneous self-compassion catalyst I’m sharing with you today which you can reference whenever you’re feeling lost in fear:

The memory of all those comments, posted by people from all different backgrounds and ages, courageously admitting to their deepest and darkest fear: That 9 times out of 10, they are afraid of not being good enough, too.

You are not an anomaly, you are part of the collective. Therefore, you are not alone.

Also: You are loved. It’s non-negotiable.

Advice For Difficult Seasonal Transitions (From A Chronically Seasonally Depressed Human)

September 3, 2018 by Must Love Crows Leave a Comment

Seasonal transitions have always proven to be tough for me.

I love the sun. I thrive when it’s warm outside. When the temperature drops, and it’s no longer weather appropriate to be bare-legged in a lounge chair with my computer, notebook, or latest non-fiction obsession, I enter into a period of mourning.

I don’t anticipate quite the difficulty as I’ve had over the past few years, but I’m still a bit weary. I’m not sure what will come about when the skies get grayer, and Vancouver Island starts to live up to its reputation as a rainforest.

I’ve recently upped my belief in the fact that everything is going to be OK, and that I will be OK, no matter what happens in my life. So that’s comforting when I start to feel uncomfortable with all the changes weather wise.

But that doesn’t mean the transition to fall isn’t capable of rocking me to the emotional core.

Something inside has a tendency to fight what is this time of year. It’s prone to clenching and refusing the universal need for the leaves to fall, the temperatures to cool, and the diminishing amounts of sun to be available to baste my body.

Something within doesn’t want to accept the changes.

I experience a lot of uncomfortable physical symptoms in the fall, too. Digestive issues (Will spare the details and you’re welcome for that); super dry skin; heavy depression; intense anxiety: all of them come on strong and are hesitant to let up on demand.

Remembering that everything is temporary when experiencing all the discomfort is, well, comforting. Sitting with how I feel isn’t. Letting things get emotionally messy is messy, and I don’t like messes.

But the alternative, of looking to the not so recent past and feeling bummed out over how fast the summer went, and wishing and hoping for more time in the sun, always proves to be a tempting, albeit terrible, idea.

Until I’m ready to see what was with lightness and look at summer with gratitude instead of fear over its passing, I need to leave it where it lay. I need to get to acceptance of what is first; Acceptance of right now. And I always get there, but not until I go through what feels like a spiritually led mourning period.

I believe this: That there is more to the struggle I feel during the seasonal change into Fall than just the passing of summer; That the feelings are too heavy and deep to be from missing my favorite river or lakeside spot alone.

Regardless of the origin of my feelings, my goal this year is to get outside the realm of discomfort over what is with greater speed. I don’t want to set up shop with depression and anxiety. My plan to make sure that doesn’t happen?

Do things differently than I’ve always done them during the seasonal transition.

If you’ve read much of what I write about on the blog, or in the twice-a-month-ish emails I send out, you’ll know that doing things differently is what I’m all about these days. Because doing things differently is the key to emotional growth.

Which is why recently I’ve been scanning through the last couple years, to the times when seasonal depression and anxiety started taking up square footage in my body like a great dane in a studio apartment. Not with a critical, self-shaming eye, but a clinical one. And I’ve asked myself:

What did you do when you struggled with difficult seasonal transitions in years past?

Here’s what I came up with:

I stopped posting and connecting with people on social media. I couldn’t think of anything positive to write about or share, ’cause I felt so down, so I just stopped posting altogether. I was gone long enough that friends started messaging me, asking if I was OK. So I isolated myself from my community and it definitely didn’t help me out.

I ate shitty food. Gluten much? How about Gluten too much. Plus dairy, pork, canola oil, corn, refined sugar, and salt: You name it, I ate it when I was feeling depressed. I’m a huge follower of the medical medium and have seen incredible results from following his suggested eating plans via his books, which you can read about in this post. So I know from repeated food-related emotional and physical upheaval throughout the year that September is not a good month to be trifling (Damn, I love a good trifle) with all the stuff on my “Don’t Eat This Stuff” list.

I was less active. Recovering from drug and alcohol addiction and the depression and trauma that fueled them taught me that when I’m experiencing heavy doses of depression I need to move my body. Which is tough because when I feel depressed I don’t want to be active. Case in point the last few years, when I dialed back my work out routine substantially in the fall, ’cause I had zero motivation. Needless to say, not doing anything made me feel worse.

I ran from my feelings by buying stuff. The last few years I’ve done a fair bit of running. Not around the block – I’m talking running from how I felt via emotional purchases. Tons of cash spent at the vitamin store for supplements in order to fix how I felt; make-up counter visits in hopes a new product would make me feel (and look) better; a surplus of books, some of which haven’t even been cracked yet: none of it helped. It just kept me busy while siphoning my savings account. Yuck.

I didn’t take time to be grateful. I was so consumed with fear over how uncomfortable I felt that I couldn’t see how it could ever get better. I stopped practicing being grateful and it made things way worse.

After all that investigating, it became clear that I needed a plan this year. Even though I feel like a different person – stronger, more empowered, and grateful than in years past – I still need to be ready, in case the same symptoms come about again.

So I made a plan for the transition to Fall and it goes like this:

Remain open to my community. I’m going to share what the transition teaches me on social media and on the blog. I’ll be mindful of the delivery, ie, keep my heart open, and ensure I share empowering yet honest content. And I’m going to make plans with friends, for the near and faraway future, instead of hanging solo all the time. Adding fun stuff to the calendar always feels good, no matter how far away it is (TGFJ = Thank God For Jen, who likes to plan ahead like I do.)

Write it out. I’m going to use how I feel as content inspiration for my blog, my book, and my workbook. This is a good chance to get introspective about what I’m feeling.

Not let depression make choices for me. Depression isn’t something I need to be listening to for health advice, so I’m not going to listen when it makes the super shitty suggestion that I numb my brain with entertainment shows, lay in bed all day, shop away my feelings, or eat bags of cheddar popcorn. Nuh-uh. Nuhhhh-uhhhhh.

Up my healthy eating game. The proof is in the dairy-free pudding (I’ve never tried making that but it feels like it’s google worthy): Shitty food equals a shitty frame of mind, body, and soul. I’m going to cut out the crap when I feel like crap and keep my house stocked with healthy foods so it’s easier to dismiss depression’s suggestion that I start eating cake at every meal.

Move my body. This is one of those cases where I have to get tough love-ish with myself: Even if I don’t feel like doing anything when I’m feeling down and out, I need to do it anyway. I’m not saying I need to sign up for CrossFit (though if that’s your thing, go get ’em, babe.) I’m saying move my body a bit, ie, walk around the block, or do one beginner yoga class per week – something that gets the blood flowing. Nothing good comes of stagnation, mentally or physically. I know this VERY well. Lighter equals, well, lighter. And I’m not talking about my waistline. Everything feels a little less heavy when you make time to move your bod.

Sit with my feelings. I’m going to notice when I feel like running by eating or shopping and sit with my how I feel instead. I’m going to go all Buddha on that “Hey – you should do this thing that will make you feel worse!” suggestion that I KNOW will be coming my way on the regular. Will it feel great to sit with how I feel? Not likely. But it’s temporary, and the sooner I am courageous enough to do so, the sooner my discomfort will pass. (I wrote more about this idea, of sitting with your discomfort, in this post.

Meditate more often. One of my Instagram friends, @remindmeditation, recently said: “Meditation isn’t hard. Learning organic chemistry is hard. Winning an Ironman is hard. Giving birth is tough AF. Meditation is easy. You can meditate.”

And Jaylee is right: You can meditate. We can all meditate. And while I don’t think meditating for long periods of time is easy, I DO think we sabotage ourselves by saying it’s too hard to even attempt. I do it to myself sometimes, particularly when I’m feeling depressed, and that’s an everyday meditator admitting that.

A way around the “I don’t want to, even though I know it’ll help me” is by lowering the bar. Making 1-5 minutes of meditation the goal is much less daunting than trying to force 20 minutes when you’re just not that into it. And it makes it more likely that you’ll actually do it. So less self-sabotage + more doing what feels doable = self-care, self-love, self-empowerment. The math checks out. I checked it.

Seasonal transitions can be tough. What makes them even tougher?

When you don’t have a plan to deal with the issues that might come with the changing of seasons.

Experience has taught me that waiting until things get hard is not a good plan. Having a plan is a good plan.

You might need to look at what didn’t work for you in the past, like I did, to sort out what helps provide relief, empowerment, and motivation when times get difficult.

One thing you can do right now? Share something you plan to do this year, to help you mentally transition into fall in the comments below.

You never know who you could be helping by doing so, so please take a moment to share your thoughts. And after that grab a copy of my One Minute Meditation Guide, which is a great tool to add to your Fall Wellness toolkit.

Now, I’m going to give Fall, cause it’s truly here on Vancouver Island, a warm welcome, even though it’s not exactly warm, and offer a reminder to you:

Be kind to yourself during seasonal transitions. It’s so very human, to struggle during times of change.

What I Learned From Reconciling With My Dad

November 28, 2017 by Must Love Crows 2 Comments

I reconciled with my dad this past summer. It had been about 6 years since we last spoke or saw each other.

We’ve had a tumultuous relationship over the years, which I associate in part to us being so much alike (Full disclosure: it’s taken a while for me to be able to admit that.) We both have strong presences and personalities, which has played a big role in our inability to establish and maintain a healthy relationship.

But here we are today, and I’m grateful for this space of time in which we can establish a level of trust, which has never existed until now.

The process of rebuilding a relationship with him has had its share of awkward moments. Time changes people, at least it has both of us. And you have to get to know the new version of them.

You have to release the memory of the person you used to know, in order to appreciate who they are in the present.

I think we both get a little freaked out at times: scared to say the wrong thing and have everything go sideways. But I am hopeful that won’t happen again because I know we have both missed being in each other’s lives, and that this is important to us.

When he wasn’t around, life never felt complete. There was a constant lead weight on my heart, in the form of gut-wrenching predictions that would run through my brain – emotional torture really: “What if he dies and I never get to see him again?”

So it’s a huge wave of relief, being able to communicate with him, and release my grip on all the agonizing what-ifs.

This version I see of my dad is more like the father I’ve always wanted: Loyal, Dedicated, Kind.

And I think I’m more like the daughter he’s always wanted: Honest, Generous, Kind.

I feel like I can rely on him now in the ways that are truly important. I.e., emotionally.

It’s really a monumental feeling to own, as I spent much of my life seeking what I never got from him growing up from other people. (FYI: I failed miserably).

I’m a realist and know I’ll never get the version of my dad I dreamed of or wanted. And truth be told, I am absolutely OK with that. It’s not productive or kind to create a blueprint of the perfect father in my head and expect him to live up to it. He is human after all, just like me, readily capable of making mistakes.

And he has made mistakes. But in holding my forgiveness ransom in exchange for perfection, I suffer. So I’ve decided to be courageous, and let it all go. And he’s done the same for me.

I’ve learned that if I want a good relationship with my dad, I have to be generous with him. And generosity looks like patience when he’s not being the way I want him to be.

When I’m patient with him, it makes it easier for me to extend some patience my way. Because in order to forgive myself for all of my deficiencies, mistakes and terrible choices, I have to forgive him too.

There can be no healing if there is not full circle forgiveness. Click To Tweet

I now know that you can’t get love from others unless you love yourself first. You have to model how it is you want to be treated, by way of treating yourself well. Meanwhile, you must accept that in doing so, there is no guarantee you will get treated the way you want to be treated.

But you can appreciate who you are, with or without the approval of others. And you don’t need other people to relate to you or even understand you to do that. Which brings us to a powerful truth:

No one is capable of being your saviour: That’s your job.

By meandering this new relationship territory with my dad I’m noticing all the ways in which we are the same: We both just want to be valued and appreciated for who we are.

And after all the years I spent feeling so different from my family – like I didn’t fit in with them, which led to years of feeling rejected, isolated, less than – I now know that I was spinning a torturous story in my head.

We are all very much alike in our desire to be loved and validated. Our differences lie in the methods we use to try to attain it.

On good days, I see the humanity in all of us – innate flaws that are in and of themselves quite beautiful, if you can get past the instinctual need for judgement.

And on bad days, I feel like a rejected 12 year old.

But below the surface, I know that I’m just trying to continue to value myself, which is a volatile process. Depending on the day, that can and will look like me feeling like the odd one out. But most days I’m cool with it, which is great because:

It truly is paradigm shifting, when you learn to value yourself. Click To Tweet

And I think that’s a huge reason why I have a relationship with my dad right now that actually works: because more often than not, I value and appreciate who I am. My ability to do that cracks open the door to me being able to value and appreciate him.

And while there’s still a level of comfort missing between us (with my entire family for that matter) I’m working towards feeling more relaxed around him, meanwhile continuing to embrace what I bring to the table:

Sensitivity.

Compassion.

Insight.

Instincts.

Voracious emotional generosity.

So in a roundabout way, reconciling with my dad added more fuel to the volatile belief that who I am as is, is OK. And for that reason and many more, I’m extremely grateful.

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Doing Less to Be More

November 23, 2017 by Must Love Crows Leave a Comment

NOTE: If you’re a newsletter subscriber of mine this post will look familiar. I received so many lovely replies to my most recent email I decided to share it on the blog, too. ‘Cause why not right? 🙂

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything. Why?

Because the only thing you can bet on is that life can and will reroute your plans.

My reroute? A major case of depression sprinkled with severe anxiety; Two emotionally turbulent job changes within a couple months; Family stuff, and a couple of colds that wouldn’t quit.

As is always the case, the choppy waters I meandered through in the past month or so have settled and produced some clarity, which I’m super grateful for. Here’s my resulting mantra:

Simplifying equals peace.

Pretty obvious right? But the thing is, simplifying doesn’t mean what it used to mean to me anymore.

I used to associate it with the whole less-is-more movement and decluttering. And while I still acknowledge the value in releasing what no longer serves me (that goes for ill-fitting sweaters and emotional baggage) these days I’m all about decluttering what I’m doing.

Which means I’m making conscious choices in regard to what I’m choosing to add to my to-do list. I’m consistently asking myself, “Is this important to me? Is this the best use of my time and energy?”

And I’m listening to my body and mind, and acknowledging the messages they are parlaying (“forget cleaning the floors woman — we need to rest” and “you’re not a graphic designer — outsource it!”)

As a self-betterment obsessed Xennial (google it) I have a tendency to get a bit, let’s say preoccupied with improving and making progress.

(OK bugger it: I am obsessed with bettering myself, all the time.)

And with that passion comes some side effects, namely, stress from overdoing things.

Case in point:

I get too many books on the go, and each one is filled with advice that contradicts the others.
I place an excess of value on my need to seek out experts to fix myself.
I sign up for and receive too many e-newsletters from self-professed experts, which overwhelms me and clogs up my email.
I put too much on my to-do list (clean out inbox is at the top)
I put too much on my shopping list.
I expect too much of myself.
I don’t give myself permission to just chill.

How does all this mess with my health?

When I think only experts know the answers, I de-value my ability to innately understand how to best care for myself. And I sabotage my well-being, by way of distracting myself from taking ownership of my mental and physical health (“I can’t make myself feel better on my own — only other people and things can”)

Then I get in a loop of thought that says I need things outside of myself to make me feel better, which often results in me getting into mad consumer mode (“must have more books, vitamins, wellness products, appointments with healers, etc”)

All of that adds more tasks to my to-do list and depletes my bank account at an alarming rate.

**So I end up doing more, thinking it will result in me being more when in truth, I just end up mentally and physically depleted.**

Enough.

These days I’ve been cutting back on everything. I’ve been reading and writing less, and dialing back my incessant need to understand and make sense of everyone and everything.

Just taking a big old time out from my need to be productive.

I’m keeping my to-do list short, and focusing on the stuff that’s most important to my health:

Meditation
Yoga
Walking
Writing content for clients
Updating the blog and working on my wellness resource guide, as I feel the urge (Side note: I never force myself to write. I don’t attempt to pry, shame, or coerce soul work out of myself. Otherwise, I end up with garbagio.)
Cooking healthy food (the foods we eat affect our mental health, and I’ll be doing an interview with a nutritional expert about this soon, which I’ll be sure to share with you.)
Keeping my house in acceptable shape (there will be some clutter, and that’s OK. At least I’ll work on being OK with it…)
And most important: Being unwaveringly kind to myself, on every single occasion.

So that’s what I’m all about these days. And I’m wondering if you can relate?

Maybe you’ve felt the same internal chaos over the past while. And perhaps you see the correlation between the incessant pursuit of progress and the likelihood of ending up at an emotional and physical stalemate.

Maybe you can see how counterproductive the go-go-go, more-more-more lifestyle really is. Click To Tweet

And maybe you can dig into the idea of filtering out the stuff you’ve been doing that doesn’t serve you. You know, the stuff that if you really let yourself sink into how it makes you feel, you realize it drags you down and needs to be let go. ASAP.

And even if it takes you a bit to fully release it (because breaking a habit can be hella hard to do) maybe you’ll tap into that part of you that, like me, just wants some relief from the emotional overwhelm.

If you’re vibing with all of that, join me in committing to giving yourself permission to dial back the need to always be doing, and turn up to truly living.

Try it on. See how it feels. I think you’ll dig it.

🙂

Listening to the Right Voice

September 28, 2017 by Must Love Crows Leave a Comment

There is a voice in my head that has consumed my life for over 20 years, and it tells me a lot of crappy stuff. Maybe you can relate. Here’s a quick summary of what it has to say:

Making mistakes is a character flaw.
You don’t make enough money, and the amount of money you make determines your worth.
Your brother doesn’t call you because he is embarrassed by you. That’s also the reason why none of his friends knew you existed.
You keep attracting bad employers because you yourself are bad.
You need to be stern and serious and rigid. It’s not OK to be happy all the time — Being overly happy is ridiculous.

So that’s the voice that bullies and reprimands me. But there is another voice — One that I’ve tapped into over the last few years — that has a much kinder take on who I am, and what I have to offer the world.

It’s not so much in my head but in my heart, and it’s got a lot of kind and comforting things to say, such as:

Human beings were made to make mistakes. And you are human. So your mistakes are inevitable and natural, and not a character flaw.
You have enough money to feed, clothe, house, and create a savings account for yourself. If you want to make more of it, work on releasing your fears surrounding it. (PS: I’m reading a great book about that right now)
Your brother doesn’t call you because he is busy. And the reason he doesn’t talk about you with his friends is that he is so focused on his life that he doesn’t feel the need to share details about his family.
You are not bad. You are learning to release the need to be surrounded by negativity and aggression. And you’re doing a really good job of it.
It is safe to be happy, even if you were raised to believe otherwise.

So depending on the day, there are some seriously conflicting beliefs rumbling through me, which lends itself to a bit of confusion. Although logic would dictate that the second voice offers the most constructive conclusions, I am excessively familiar with the negative one. I’ve gotten up close and personal with it for over 20 years, and have built a sort of toxic trust with it — I’ve taught myself to believe what it tells me.

Choosing to accept the second voice — the one telling me things I’ve never known to be true— has been a challenge. Some days I have faith in the foreign assertions and graciously accept them. While on others, I just don’t have it in me, so I default to what I know.

I see a lot of folks out there claiming it’s as simple as swapping out a negative for a positive. Heck, I’ve been one of those people at one point or another, because I wanted so much for it to be true. And don’t get me wrong, it’s a really good thing to get in the habit of doing, but science proves it’s not so simple.

These are subconscious beliefs, and those suckers aren’t so easy to change, particularly after years of programming. On top of that is the physiological stress response to the negative thoughts we have(1). This stress response triggers the amygdala, which over time becomes more reactive to apparent threats, like our negative thoughts. This results in anxiety, even when there is no perceived threat.

And then the hippocampus — which assists in developing conscious and clear memories of what actually happened — get’s worn the F out by the repetitive stress response. This makes it harder to create new, positive memories because we are overloaded with the bad ones. So pretty soon our brains get overwhelmed with all the stress-inducing thoughts, and we end up in a state of chronic fear and anxiety — with no clarity on how the heck it all came to be.

Then we bash ourselves for how we feel. And others minimize our struggle, with dangerous statements like, “Just think something different,” or “What do you have to be stressed about? My life is harder than yours.”

It can be wildly difficult to shake heavily engrained beliefs. We have to work hard at eliciting a relaxation response (more on that in the coming weeks), in order to keep the stress from consuming our bodies and minds and creating dis-ease. We essentially have to re-train our brains, a process that takes a lot of time and a strong commitment.

And we do have to swap out negatives for positives, but with the understanding that it’s not going to be a one-off act: they will keep coming back to haunt us. And there may still be times when we wonder what voice is right: when we follow the crappy thoughts down the rabbit hole and have to pull ourselves back out. But we have to commit to the process, even when it seems easier to just let ourselves fall backward into the abyss.

Because one voice accepts — the other rejects.

One creates peace, while the other creates discontent.

One voice is love, while the other is hate.

Life to me these days is about figuring out which voice to listen to, and cultivating kind messages instead of hateful ones — about myself and others. It’s about choosing to love myself, by choosing to reject the voice that hurts me.

It’s about chipping away at the beliefs that tell me I am less than, and replacing the chips with ones that tell me I am more than.

It’s swapping out a less than (< )with a greater than (>), and realizing that when you choose to believe positive thoughts about yourself, the equation balances out like never before.

What does the voice in your head tell you? Something crappy? If so, I urge you to look for other beliefs — ones that support you achieving a state of wellness, rather than a state of discontent. Start chipping away at the crappy thoughts. I’ll be doing it with you.

(1) Rankin, Lissa, M.D. The Fear Cure, ed (2015).

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Failing at Perfection: Tales From Last Weekend

August 2, 2017 by Must Love Crows 1 Comment

If you’ve read any of the 100+ posts on this blog, you might have an idea of what I struggle with the most:

My relentless desire for perfection, which is quite frankly ruining my life.

That sounds dramatic. Nothing has been ruined. It just makes everything so fucking difficult.

See I’m capable of a lot of things. I can write. I can sing. I can dance. I can be compassionate as a mother fucker. And don’t get me started on empathy – I am a textbook empath.

Being hyper-empathetic is something I struggle with all the time. I get so jarred and rattled by other people’s emotions. I take it all on, which is bizarrely narcissistic. I sense discontent a mile away, and I fight with it and then desperately try to disengage with it, in an attempt to supply the world with the opposite.

So I’m capable of lot’s of things, I just don’t know how to disengage with my need to be perfect.

Some days I can’t see the green grass or the blue sky, even when it’s right in front of me. Some days I see brown, withered failure because I didn’t live up to the ridiculously unachievable expectations I have for myself.

And then I start to believe the stories I make up based on the seemingly disapproving looks I get for being myself. And because of them, I tell myself I am wrong: that I am bad, and not good enough.

Where’s all this coming from? It’s coming from the mind of an overly exhausted, mentally depleted woman. Three days at a wedding celebration with over 100 people might be the epicenter of fun for some, but to me, it was difficult, to say the least.

I was out-of-my skin uncomfortable the entire time, from the first flight to the last one, and instead of admitting that and accepting that big crowds and events aren’t my thing, I beat myself up the whole time.

And then I tried and failed, to fit in with people who, plain and simple, aren’t my type of people.

Don’t get me wrong: there were some really lovely folks in attendance, there was just a bit too much going on for my introverted ass.

So I drank booze to calm my nerves and the voice inside me that told me I needed to be perfect.

If you’ve read my Huffington Post piece, that last part might be the tidbit that gets your attention the most.

I struggled with alcohol for many years. But what lot’s of people don’t know about me – and actually I got a lot of assumptions flung my way over that 1000 word piece of writing – is that while I very much acknowledge my addictive behaviors, I don’t label myself as an alcoholic.

I am a human being who get’s scared of how she feels, and periodically tries to escape. Which is what I did when I cracked a bud light someone offered me on a 34-degree ranch in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by people I didn’t understand or relate to.

I drank to calm myself down in a social setting I was uncomfortable in. And it’s not even the booze that upsets me: it’s the beliefs I chose to believe about myself that brought me to drink that beer (you’d think if I was going to drink for the first time in a long time I’d pick something better.)

Save for a few close friends, most people don’t know that while I identified as an alcoholic for quite some time, I don’t anymore. I identify with being an addict in the sense that I am addicted to avoiding the overpopulated negativity and self-damaging thoughts I have about myself.

I am addicted to avoiding the fear I feel.

What do I do usually? Yoga. Meditation. Cooking. Reading. Shopping. But I had no time for any of that this past weekend, and the anxiety was so severe that I was unwilling to believe that these things could work, even if I had found time for them.

I can do all the blaming and excuse making I want: it won’t change the fact that I’m here now, still reeling from the side effects of booze, which in this case include depression, a lack of sleep, and brain fog.

To me, alcohol is a waste of time. It clouds my brain for days and keeps me from my passion, which is writing. I have zero desire to spend money on it – it’s just not fun anymore.

But this past weekend, with an open bar and next level social anxiety, I drank anyway.

Am I proud? No. In fact, I’m rattled, but not just about the fact that I drank.

I’m rattled about the speech I gave, even though many people approached me saying they loved it and that I should go into public speaking (proof that what scares you the most is what you should embrace.)

I’m rattled about those two Aunts of mine, giving me their reliable looks that said, “I’ll be nice to your face but can’t wait to get home and do the rounds talking shit about you.” I’m not even going to try with them anymore. Not worth my energy.

I’m rattled about the isolation I felt as my husband drank to the point that I wanted nothing to do with him.

Heck, I’m rattled that I drank and wanted nothing to do with myself.

I’m rattled by how alone I felt amongst a sea of people I felt the need to impress so badly that they would include me in the festivities, instead of ignoring me.

And I’m rattled by all of my over the top expectations that were destined to be left unmet.

Perfection wasn’t achieved.

What does perfect look like to me? Everyone approving of me. Me being patient instead of being a bitch during the traveling process. Me not being scared or upset over this innate sense of loss over my brother’s marriage; that things will never be the same again; that we will never have the relationship I dream of us having.

And I’m mad because I really don’t understand why I’m so damn emotional about all that.

And I’m mad at the prick who told me I screwed up the beginning of my speech because I choked on my emotions: this fuck you goes out to you, jerk-face.

I wish I could be perfect. I wish I could have handled it all with grace and mercy and an innate sense of calm.

But guess what? I didn’t. And none of these words are going to change that.

The one thing they will do is help me get over it. Help me forgive myself. And make me realize that I really need someone to help me get over this obsession with being perfect.

So there you have it: full-blown truth. I can’t be anything but real anymore. Spent too much of my weekend – my life for that matter – being fake.

Time for courage, and self-care and getting back to the business of being me.

Time to peel back more layers to find the truth, not a version others might approve of.

Because imperfect me is perfection.