Be Brave Blog

Posted on

Hurt and Anger

hurt and angerI am not an angry person. I know people who say they’re angry, often, but that’s not something that comes to my mind. Until…I took my deep dive into the Enneagram. What I learned was that my type, the 9, the peacemaker, is “asleep” to their anger. It’s not that the anger isn’t there, it’s that they don’t even recognize it, they don’t associate with it. Um…ok…that got my attention.

I once met with a friend I hadn’t seen in quite a while. At the time, I’d gone through my coaching class and was increasingly self-aware. She made a comment that I used to seem “angry all the time.” This was pre-Enneagram and I remember being surprised and thinking that I didn’t recall being angry. When I learned the Enneagram, her comment came back to me, clicked into place and made more sense than I was comfortable with.

Describing myself as angry is something I wouldn’t do, it’s an uncomfortable emotion for me. Maybe you’ve felt the same way. Anger feels almost dangerous to me, an emotion that there must be a way to get around. Except there’s not. Post-Enneagram, I’ve noticed that uncomfortable emotion, and made an effort to recognize it when it comes up.

At the same time, I think about hurt. Stay with me. Hurt and anger are two sides of the same coin. No, really. Anger often comes from hurt, it’s a response that allows us to do something with the hurt we feel. Because if we don’t do something with all that hurt, it simply simmers inside of us. Eats at us. We want to make it go away but that’s a hard ask without action.

I’ve noticed there are different ways that people can take their anger, their hurt and act. A few month’s ago, I went to a women’s empowerment conference. On the second day of the conference, I was walking to lunch thinking about an uncomfortable feeling I was having. There was an intangible I couldn’t put my finger on about the conference. Then it dawned on me, there were a lot of angry women there. Anger manifesting itself in action, but negative anger. Railing out against “the man,” which in this case actually was man, the laws, the behaviors, that prevented women from equality. I did not share the anger, which explained my discomfort.

That said, there are circumstances which I am not in agreement with, and I am pro-equal rights for women, but how I choose to respond is different than anger. I don’t want to leave you with the impression that the conference was purely a fight against male oppression. Far from it. Dynamic female speakers shared thought provoking insights into a wide variety of topics and I was thankful for attending. I simply noticed the simmering anger.

I’m finding that I also have a spirit to do something about circumstances that I don’t agree with, but it comes from a different place. A broken heart. My heart breaks for people who are made to feel “less than.” I fundamentally see the equality and sameness in people. When I see people being treated as though they’re doing something wrong simply for being who they were born to be, it hurts my heart. That’s when I feel anger. The broken heart “anger” makes me want to come alongside people, to show them God’s love, love that God has for each and every one of us.

So, while I may not like the emotion of anger, I can see where it serves a purpose. It gives my hurting heart a way to action. Honestly, understanding anger through the lens of the Enneagram allowed me to name it, and move through it, rather than allowing it to simmer. I’m still not comfortable with it, and it feels bold to even say I have it, but that’s my plan this year, being bold. I’d ask you to think about hurt and anger in your own life. How does it come up and what are you doing about it? Recognize it so that you can heal and move forward, whether it be into action, forgiveness, acceptance, whatever your heart needs to have peace. That’s your brave path friends. I’m on it with you.

Posted on

Touch a heart

Touch heartsBeverly Hills 90210 was the TV show when I was in my early 20’s. The hairstyles, the romance, the drama. It was beyond easy to stay hooked in and watch the train frequently head off the tracks. So, when I learned this week that Luke Perry, who played one of the main heartthrobs, Dylan McKay, died after a stroke, I nearly shed a tear. What struck me most is that he was only a year old than I am. Far to young to be dying. This death, coinciding with an awareness that others my age are more frequently having serious health issues, made me stop and think.

Maybe it’s also my age, the tipping point where it’s not uncommon to start taking a deeper look at life. I don’t hide the fact that I think, and think and think, about life. I show up each day and do a job, I have relationships, but there’s an intangible element that I long for. A common thread shared by people of all ages, not just this midlife season I find myself in.

I desire to make a difference.

And not at a surface level. I have a longing to impact lives, people’s hearts. To spark lasting change in someone’s life so that they feel loved, believe that they matter. Believe they are loved by God. Each and every one of us is loved by God, and each and every one of us matters.

Why is it that it takes death, or illness, or tragedy to remind those of us who are well to take a deeper look? It’s easy to fall into our ruts and live out our lives stuck in the day to day. Not only can we make a difference in other people’s lives, but we can also make one in our own. The patterns we fall into are comfortable, easy, but can lead to falling asleep to our lives. To the bigger purpose we’re here for. To the great, BIG life that’s right in front of us.

So what to do about that? How to make a difference now? Get uncomfortable. Step out of your comfort zone. Be kind to the people around you, even when you don’t want to. Skip complaining and focus on gratitude. Do something BOLD, BRAVE that comes from living your authentic life. We only have one, and it matters. You matter. Whoever you are and whatever your circumstance, you matter. To the people around you and to God. Every single one of you.

Posted on

Return to simple love

let friends be themselvesHave you ever watched a baby playing? Around nine months old when they’re curious and amused by the smallest of actions. They’re mobile enough to be getting into things, but still at the age where it takes little to create joy on their faces. I was delighted the other day to have a co-worker bring her son to work for a few hours. One, I have an affinity to this kid because he shares the name of my son, Bodie. Second, babies at work bring a lightness to what, at times, can be a serious atmosphere.

Bodie sat on the floor next to the door and swung it one way, crawled over to where it landed, and swung it the other. In all honesty, I sat watching him as though he was baby Einstein solving advanced calculus problems. Back and forth…over and over. I thought in that moment how simple life is when we’re babies. Our reality is made up of that which is directly in front of us…our mom…and our dad. Our challenges are putting Cheerios into our mouth with accuracy and working on walking.

Somewhere along the way though, a narrative begins forming in our minds. We start to make sense of what’s happening around us, the relationships we have. We fill in blanks for ourselves when the story doesn’t quite make sense. There’s a learning about what helps us succeed in our life, even at a young age. Behaving, learning, achieving, it becomes evident what makes our parents give us praise. Human nature loves that praise…as young children we figure out the system.

At least, we figure out the system that works for us, in our family. But not all families are the same. As a young child, I had to go to bed EARLY, I mean….my friends were still outside playing, right outside my window in the meadow in front of our home. It seemed unfair, why did they get to stay up? Granted, it was still light as day…stays light past my 7 p.m. bedtime in the summer. But still. And, the injustice of other kids being able to eat sweets whenever they wanted! I got a quarter, once a week, to walk to the store and get a piece of candy. In hindsight, that one wasn’t a bad strategy. I was in my 30’s before I had my first cavity.

The comparisons we form lead to judgement. As we grow into adulthood, our experiences, the realities of childhood, become ingrained in us. We start using our reality to measure others. To judge them. How your family loaded the dishwasher or put on the toilet paper roll becomes a yardstick for measuring right and wrong. Of course, that’s the tip of the iceberg, if we’re not careful, our judgement can run deep into core beliefs and measuring others against our standards.

That’s the point where the rubber meets the road in relationships. We weren’t raised by the same two people and how I made sense of the world may not be how you made sense of the world. What do you do then? In simple terms, you seek to understand. Understand their perspective. That doesn’t mean you have to adopt it but understanding where they’re coming from is a starting point for conversation. It’s easy to slip into wanting to judge another’s belief as right or wrong, but that’s not our job. Our job is understanding and giving space for people to be themselves. Our job is to love, not to clobber. To remember that we have a lifetime of input behind our beliefs, but so does the other person. We were born uniquely us and continue to be that way. If we could learn to love people where they are, I believe we’d have solved one of life’s biggest challenges.  Star with today, and then tomorrow, love other people, just as God loves us.

 

Posted on

What sparks your joy?

Tidying UpI finally did it. I’ve watched episodes of The Art of Tidying up with Marie Kondo. I’ve talked about it. I’ve encouraged others to do it. I fully embraced the idea on behalf of other people. In fact, I embraced it within my own home…everywhere but my closet. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Let me take that back, I did, but not the full, throw your clothes in the middle of the room and start from scratch version.

Until yesterday. I was having breakfast with a girlfriend who has done significant cleaning out of her closet. She spoke of how freeing it was. How happy she was to enter her closet in the morning and not spend hours debating what to wear. I recall reading during the Obama presidency that Barrack had a standard look, nearly always wearing the same style and material — a two-button, single-breasted suit jacket and single pleated pant with inch-and-a-quarter cuffs. It was called “The Obama Suit.” He’d mix it up by switching his tie, blue or red. That’s it. With the number of critical decisions, he had to make each day, he said he wanted to eliminate what to wear from the equation. If the leader of the free world could simplify his wardrobe, there was hope for me.

I was finally convinced, or maybe better said, resigned, to ‘Sparking Joy’ in my closet. (If you’re unfamiliar, Marie says to hold each item and ask yourself if it sparks joy.) Admittedly, I have an attachment to my clothes. I converted a spare bedroom into a Diva Den/ closet…it’s my happy space. I have enjoyed procuring my wardrobe. The sales, the deals, the beautiful items. But over the years, even though I have cleaned it out here and there, I haven’t really combed through and given away the items that don’t serve me.

As I piled the clothes into the middle, I felt growing stress in my gut. I twinge that I was betraying them. They’d waited patiently to be worn, some longer than others. In Kondo’s method, you pick up each piece and decide if it sparks joy. If not, you thank it and put it in the giveaway pile. I put on my jammin’ girl anthem songs and got going. The fact that my anxiety level was mitigated only by dancing around my room told me I needed to do this. I discerned if I was feeling joy or was it just reflux with each item.

The giveaway pile grew and eventually I made it through everything on the floor and moved on to drawers. In the end, I amassed what I’d call a good-sized pile to give away. When I was done, I thought about the feelings I’d had during the process. The goal for me was to create happiness in my closet instead of feeling overwhelmed by decisions each time I went in to get dressed. Reduce decision fatigue and the body shaming that came from picking out an item only to have it not fit or fit poorly  -#midlifechallenges.

Goal accomplished. At least I think so. I think I still have a hangover from the stress of the process. I know it was supposed to spark joy, and I’m looking for it. Here’s what I know. The desire to reserve my energy for the positive aspects of life is compelling. I’m also weary of the feelings and negative self-talk when I get dressed in the morning. Did I spark joy? I’m going to say yes. Joy because I weeded through the feelings that had held me back from this process. Joy in taking bold steps towards what I want to have in my life.

What will bring you joy? It might not be your closet, but could you make a choice to surround yourself only with people and items that bring you joy? There are so many factors in life that we cannot control, but we can choose to bring joy into our surroundings. Look around you and ask yourself if you see joy. If not – get moving. Spark joy within yourself and then spread it to the people around you.

 

Posted on

Why have an anthem?

Vulnerability 2For as long as I can remember, I’ve gravitated to music that is big. Ballads, big female voices, dramatic crescendos, swells…think Celine Dion, Whitney Houston, lately a little bit of Lady Gaga. BIG. Songs that fill a room and might leave you crying in a puddle on the floor at the same time. Throughout the years, I’ve found myself drifting away, but always returning to a song, or finding new ones, to put on repeat. When my kids were young, I’d blast it in the car, we’d all be singing along and then…I’d turn it off…catching them mid-song each time…and then we’d laugh and laugh. But even today, they know the words to all the songs. You’re welcome.

The songs I’ve put on repeat over the years have changed, again, Celine Dion is always a leader, but there’s always been one. Lately, This is me, by Kesha has been on the playlist. It’s from The Greatest Showman movie, which, I literally only saw last night. I’ve caught the song, here and there, mainly at women’s events, not surprisingly. It has all my required elements, big swells, compelling lyrics, a dramatic finish. I can’t get enough of it. For the first time, I’ve decided to call a song my anthem.

Anthem’s are nothing new. They arise to provide people with an anchor, something to hold tight, to rally around in unity or in protest at times. But an anthem defined is “an uplifting song identified with a particular group…or cause.” This is me rallies for the underdog, the marginalized, those who are cast aside. While that’s not my story, my heart hurts for people who are overlooked, or marginalized for being who they are.

Maybe it’s because of my own beginnings. As a child with a prosthetic leg, you stand out. Before you think I’m going down a traumatic tale, I’m not. But, you stand out. People look at you, other kids, adults. And they ask questions. Today, I roll with all of it, but as a child, or a young teen, all you want to do is fit in, and you don’t.

I wish I could understand the component of human psyche that explains why some people struggle to be in proximity with different. We are all different, to varying degrees, some of our differences are simply visible. But whether internal or external, different is only different. It’s nothing else. It’s not less.

That’s what I notice, the tendency to hone in on less, to pinpoint the difference and label it as bad, or wrong, or weird. This can be viewed as a form of deflecting, we judge in others what we are uncomfortable or unhappy with in ourselves.

My heart breaks for people who find themselves in the margins. I could say “because I’ve been there,” but only from the standpoint that I know the feeling of having people stare. I’ve been fortunate to have people remind me I’m loved, but that’s not always the case. That is where my heart hurts. Maybe that’s why I love an anthem. It’s a rallying point. This is me was a rallying point in the movie for the sideshow, people who were in the circus solely for their difference. Even then, despite the draw, they were kept in the shadows, until they weren’t.

The song, my anthem, embraces the individual, just as they are. Just as God created them, created you, created me. Will you be bold enough today to do the same?

Posted on

Keeping the peace

Everything's gonna be alrightI often let a thought spin around in my head, almost like a ball on a roulette wheel. The idea will spin and spin and when I least expect it, click into place. I wrote about taking a class on the Enneagram last week. Some of the information was new, but not all. I’d been researching the tool for a while. The idea that rolled around in my head related to what is referred to as the “childhood wound,” of the type.

For the Enneagram 9, which is what I typed as, it’s “if everything around me is ok, I am ok.” It can lead to being a peacemaker, mediator and generally keeping life around you calm. I can completely relate. Figuring out where the “wound” comes from isn’t necessarily important, it’s the story we create for ourselves to make sense of the world around us. What’s important to address is the lasting impact.

What clicked for me the other day was that I have, not infrequently, put myself into situations where I knew on the frontside the person I was talking to had opposing views to mine, and in my mind I always though, “It’s going to be alright, we’ll figure it out.” What I realized is that, those situations always worked out because I stepped aside. Meaning, the belief or thought that I had took a backseat. I either abandon it or set it aside for the sake of keeping the peace.

Oddly, it’s a different story at work where I navigate opposing views regularly. The difference, I think, is that I’m operating as a healthy version of the 9 at work. In my personal life, the difference is too close, the risk of upsetting the harmony I crave to great. So I play small. I don’t speak up. I’m silent when I need to use my voice. I turn inside myself and risk withdrawing.

I share this because I doubt that I’m alone. Women, in particular, acquiesce. We keep the peace, in our homes, with our family, with our children, our spouses. It’s a wiring. Which isn’t a bad thing. But if we’re keeping the peace at the expense of ourselves, our own ideas, beliefs and opinions, it’s not healthy. I was told once by a therapist, when discussing my people pleasing tendencies, that if you are always focused on pleasing others, you’re slowly giving yourself away. That results in resentment and a slow erosion of your essential self. That’s not God’s plan.

There are times when we might compromise, that’s part of normal living with other people. But I’ve come to realize that if you are compromising on your core beliefs, the essence of who you are and what you believe in, that’s a different story. Compromising on where to go to dinner is another ballgame.

So now what? Has any of this struck a cord with you? If it has, you may need to look at how you construct your life and how “everything will be alright.” Maybe, you could try on, “this part might be difficult,” or stay in the tension when you want to back down and silence your heart. What I hope you’ll do, is to stay true to who you are. Your beliefs and opinions are equally important to anyone else’s. I pray that you will not forget that and that you will stay strong as the person God made you to be.

Posted on

Becoming who you are

Let go of youI find personality tools to be fascinating. Ways to learn more about myself and other people from different perspectives. I recently took a workshop on the Enneagram. If you want to get straight to the heart of how you’re wired, dip your toe into this tool. I sat in a cramped room, snacking my way through a fire hose of information for four hours. Literally, an immense amount of information. Enough to scare away someone who hadn’t read about it ahead of time. Thankfully, I had.

In a nutshell, the Enneagram is a framework to give us tools to shed the masks we wear by discerning what is true and original from the false ways we’ve adapted so that our original essence can emerge. Strip off the masks and get back to the true self God made you to be.

What’s hard for some is seeing the ways they’ve adapted to survive the world around them. You must be willing to see that, even in an idyllic childhood, each of us had to cope with something. You may not have had a tragic childhood, or maybe you did, but you had unmet mental and emotional needs that resulted in the development of coping mechanisms. The coping mechanisms are what evolve into our adult personalities.

Over the last few years, I’ve spent endless hours reading, learning, to understand myself and my wiring. It’s not purely for the sport of it though. Nor is it to look back at childhood or earlier life experiences and criticize them or use them as an excuse. It’s simply to understand so that I can make informed, different decisions in my life. The Enneagram is one of the tools to do that. Where people make a mistake is believing it, or any other tool, is the end all be all. We are not one dimensional. God didn’t make us that way. He is not one dimensional and we’re made in his image. There’s more to each of us than meets the eye.

That said, the Enneagram explained what I already knew about myself. I desire harmony, to live in peace. Doesn’t everyone? It comes from a false belief that I’m only ok if everyone around me is ok. Consciously, I know that’s not true, but I also know I’ve constructed much of my life around that idea. My chosen career in human resources allows me to resolve conflict at work, keep the peace. I became a coach to help others resolve inner conflicts. I’ve done it in my life, I mediated my kid’s arguments because it was too stressful to have the tension. But I’ve also avoided conversations for the sake of keeping the peace.

There’s a quote I’ll butcher…”once you’ve seen, you cannot un-see…” that I believe reflects my thoughts about the Enneagram and other tools to understand people, me included. It put words to what I already knew about myself, consciously or unconsciously. I think this mid-life journey is about doing something with the wisdom and discernment I’ve gained with those tools. To ignore that knowledge and be asleep to my life isn’t who God made me to be.

And that life might be uncomfortable. It’s requires letting go of the coping mechanisms I’ve used in order to have true peace, harmony and love. To assert my own beliefs, needs and desires even when they might cause tension. Trusting that the peace I desire comes from God and there’s room for me to be myself in His vision of my life. It’s getting back to my authentic self, not someone different, simply the me that’s been in there the whole time. Is it a bold move? Maybe. But that’s the journey I’m on.

Posted on

Learning to say No

no is completeLast month, I was part of an event with the Willow Creek Association. During the one-day event, 7 segments were recorded, different facets addressing abuse and harassment within the church. On Thursday, I received the recording of my portion, in which I gave practical advice for preventing harassment within the workplace.

I was specifically asked to review it and give feedback on any changes prior to the release to over 800 churches and non-profits this week. I felt my stomach knot up, major cringing. Let’s get real here. I was confident about the content, but it meant I had to watch myself, for thirty minutes! In normal circumstances, that’s a hard pass, but I had no choice.

So, I watched it. And I didn’t die. In reality, I was surprised, encouraged even. Speaking in front of people isn’t a challenge for me, it was having to watch myself that was a nightmare.

My favorite part was during the Q&A at the end where our host, Liz, asked me questions from the audience. In response to one of her questions, I simply said “No.” Of course, after a beat I added more, but the simple answer was no. Honestly, I burst out laughing watching it, I don’t know why it tickled me so much, but it did.

And I was thinking about that answer this morning, reminded that, in fact, “No.” is a complete sentence. We share an inherent tendency to add more, as though explaining our No, is a requirement. It’s not. And it’s that word that we need as we discern our way through our own lives.

It’s beyond easy to say yes, constantly, and find ourselves entrenched with more on our plate than is reasonable. I listen to the “For the Love” podcast with Jen Hatmaker and on this week’s episode, she interviewed Emily Ley, an author and creator of The Simplified Planner! At one point, Emily was talking about the process of simplifying her closet and how hard it is to let go of what no longer serves you. My ears perked up because since I started watching The Art of Tidying Up with Marie Kondo on Netflix, I’ve been one step away from using her method. But the mere thought of piling all my clothes on the floor and holding each one to determine if it brings me joy…brings me no joy. Anxiety is what it brings me.

Emily shared that she has someone in her life, a helper, who is her “No mentor.”

Ok, wait, she’s on to something. A “No mentor?” Think about it. You have someone who you trust, but who has no attachment to your stuff. Whether it be your clothes, your interests, your pursuits… someone who is objective. She explained that she calls her No Mentor when she’s, for example, weighing two career opportunities. Her mentor can remind her of the path she’s on, and of what aligns with that. And as a bonus, can help in the closet.

I 100% love this idea. Not only for my closet, but to sort through the wide variety of topics that pull at my attention. Life truly is a balance of holding on and letting go. If we hold on to everything, it becomes unmanageable to pursue the important areas well, the areas that bring us the most joy and allow us to maximize sharing our gifts with others.

While I don’t have a No Mentor (but am going to think more about that idea), I think being able to prioritize for our self is an important skill. Like any skill, you must practice, but it can be improved. Maybe my amusement watching myself give a simple No was simply because I had actually let No being the answer for once.

Is there somewhere, something you need to let go of to focus on the right thing? Where  can you say no – without any further explanation – to an ask, a path or choice or relationship that no longer serves you? It’s an act of self-love to prioritize and preserve yourself, your time, your energy. It’s bold – and I’m all about being bold this year. So, without fear or remorse, where do you need to say No today? Do it, and remember, you’re loving yourself in the process.

Posted on

Midlife Awareness

img_0198 (1)I am the oldest child and have all the type A characteristics that come with it. Oddly though, my birthday is late in the year, which made me the youngest among many of my friends growing up. I was four when I started kindergarten and only 17 when I stepped foot on my college campus. It presented a dichotomy, oldest at home but youngest in day to day life. I’ve thought about the contrast lately as I’m mentally turning a corner. Still the oldest child, no longer the youngest of my peers, and in the middle of my life.

People talk about midlife with a negative slant. But I’d disagree. For me, it’s a time of change. Paraphrasing Brené Brown… Midlife, it’s when the Universe shakes us and says ‘stop messing around, use the gifts I gave you. If you’ve read Brené you know she would have said that saltier than I do, for good reason, emphasizing that many of us have walked along beside our life to this point. We’ve let it happen to us, and in our early 50’s (plus or minus) it’s as though we wake up.

I know I have. It wasn’t at 50, more like the late 40’s. My question was ‘how do I want to play this out?’ I entered a career by default out of college and stayed it in. Changed employers a few times, but never changed my field. But I started to feel there was so much more. Gifts that I had which were lying on a shelf, dusty. A slant towards connection, creativity, writing…passions that I’d pushed aside for responsibility. Safe, secure, staying the course that others had laid out for me…until I started to question it.

I can see why it’s called a midlife ‘crisis.’ When you take your life and throw it up in the air to see what sticks, yeah, that can look like a crisis. Your body starts to act out…aches, arthritis (it’s no joke), hot flashes, fatigue. What…the…heck?? You talk about the quality of your sleep instead of the latest mountain you’ve conquered, realize that you can’t eat fries like a teenager anymore. Maybe you buy a sports car…I’ve heard that’s a thing… or embark on ways to ‘discover’ yourself.

I can’t help but wonder if the ‘crisis’ comes from not knowing how to navigate our true self. Stay with me. By the time we hit this time of life, our roles start to change. The self that we presented to the world starts to fall away. Our kids are in various stages of adulting, some of us may have parents who are starting to have health challenges (personally thankful I don’t have this one yet), we may find ourselves questioning our careers – how we want our work life to look. We might also start to discover creative passions. I know I have. Looking at our life free of the parts that defined us, shaped us for years, wondering what’s next, the questions can feel overwhelming, like a crisis.

Or, we can look at this phase of life as an awakening. We’re old enough to honestly look at our lives, discerning enough to weed through the parts that aren’t working and put those aside. At the same time, we are wise and have the freedom to explore our gifts, the talents we shelved when we were in the weeds earlier in our lives. AND (this is one of my favorites), we care far less about doing what everyone else thinks we should. Now that is freeing in and of itself.

Midlife awakening, boldly stepping into the next phase. Claiming it, embracing it. Ready to live out our authentic lives, knowing they may or may not look different than they have. Loving ourselves through it, embracing our gifts, and sharing those with the world. It’s your bold life, my friend, live it fully.

Posted on

Layers of our heart

layersWith a bit of reluctance, I’ve begun seeing a chiropractor. I’ve been in the past to others, with degrees of success, but I sought this person out at the suggestion of a co-worker because of their methods. The doctor looks at my spinal and nerve structure from a few different perspectives, including the bone alignment, nerve impingement and muscle structure. Turns out, I’m a bit of a hot mess on the inside, and we’re on a correction plan which should lead to better overall health.

Here’s the thing about going through this type of treatment, areas where I’d experienced pain in the past are resurfacing. I thought I’d healed the pain in my hip, for example, and then, wham! it’s back. The doctor explained our body finds ways to compensate misalignment and cover it up. Those areas come back as we do the work to heal. I think about the earth’s surface. Archeologists could explain what we’d find as we dig down through the layers dirt and rock. We’d resurface all types of history as well as damage.

In a way, our emotional lives are a parallel to my body healing, and the earth’s surface. Throughout our lives, we experience joy and heartache to varying degrees. While we work to move past and through those situations, the degree to which they are healed is a different ballgame. And, not unlike the earth’s surface, when you dig in, you might accidentally come upon a landmine.

I’ve found that in my own life. Over time, I’ve experienced those joys, and heartaches, and those were generally not in isolation. Other people were often involved. And each of us heals or moves past emotional situations at our own pace, in our own way. Where we step on the landmine is to make assumptions that other people are having the same experience that we are, healing and moving past at the same rate.

I make those mistakes. For as much as I strive to keep my expectations on lock down, I develop ideas about how situations will flow. That’s when the landmines come up. Usually it’s because I’ve been operating in isolation and might believe I’m taking someone else’s feelings into consideration, or have expectations about how they’ll respond, but I’m not asking questions. I’m only looking from my perspective. Writing my own story.

Those lessons can be painful. Which, I am not a fan of. Not in the slightest. The interesting thing is that the pain reveals the area where more work is needed. But wouldn’t we all want to find another way? I’ve been pondering that this week and I believe there is.

Wait for it…

Vulnerable communication. Honestly, I think it’s that simple. Get to know and understand the layers of the people you’re closest to. The ones who share the ripples of joy and heartache with you. Ask about their experience, listen, show empathy. Be in the space with them and ask that they do they same for you. In all honestly, I’m talking maybe 1-2 people. The ones who’ve witnessed the intimacies of life with you.

Each one of us has a desire to be seen, and if we really want to be seen, we must be bold enough to show our layers. At least to those who have earned the right to be there. Start where you’re comfortable but start. Been seen for all the beautiful layers that you’re made of.