Strong Series Part I: Victim Pie

I am not what has happened to me.  I am what I choose to become.

-Carl Jung

I am excited to introduce a three-part series this week called the Strong Series.  I snaked the title from my web designer, developer, and good friend Josh Rogers, I wish I had thought of it but I didn’t.  Last week before launching my post Thursday, we were texting and he asked if the Strong Series was going to kick off that week?  Hmmm…I hesitantly answered no, fearing I had forgotten about a brilliant blog series I couldn’t recall.  Well, no was right because I didn’t have a brilliant series, however, the name was just too good so I thought I’d go with it and give Josh credit on the back end.  Josh, this one’s for you.

For the next several weeks,  let’s explore three dangerous roles we fall into in relationships: victim, rescuer, and persecutor.  They are familiar roles for us all, so hang in and don’t blow me off quite yet!  Chances are, you have played all three of them, even when relating to yourself.

If it’s not one thing it’s your mother

Everything in life is relational; that’s why we must explore the trappings and toxicity we fall prey to when we inhabit these three roles.  They are insidiously subtle, making it nearly impossible to detect when we move into and through them.  Why?  Well, chances are we observed others modeling this behavior around us growing up; building them somewhat into our structural, relational DNA.  Look, I’m not blaming it on your mother, I’m merely saying she may not have had the best teacher either and was doing the best she could at the time.   When we understand the cold hard facts behind victim, rescuer, and persecutor, we can easily recognize the payoff involved and bust their chops, making it easy to access a way out of those childlike corners and into our true, brave selves.

Tasty Goodness

So what’s with the “pie” situation?  I thought you’d never ask.  Honestly, victim is perhaps the most easily delicious of them all.  Like pie, playing the victim has a wholesome veneer.  I mean, it’s not straight up Death by Chocolate cake porn or anything.  No way; pie is soft and fruit-filled and we comatose on it at Thanksgiving making it… virtuous.  V is for Victim Pie Virtue…until you simply can’t look at food anymore and feel like you might just vomit.  Wow.  Okay, No more v’s.

The Payoff

It’s tricky and downright painful to sit in the victim seat.  After all, legitimate hurt and/or harm have landed us squarely into this role and it feels horrible, powerless.  Yet oftentimes we stay in victim far longer than necessary.  When I sit in the victim chair, it feels throne-like initially but only leads to isolation, loneliness, and fear.  There is always a payoff to this destructive spiraling behavior, otherwise our wise adult-governed self would remain in the driver’s seat, NOT our reactive monkey brain.  Here are a few payoffs of the victim role:

• Avoiding responsibility (“it’s not my fault” or “look what they did to me”)
• Getting attention
• Collecting sympathy (Poor, pitiful me…)
• Getting to be “right” (in order to justify a resentment)
• Proving myself to be “wrong” (in order to justify low self worth)

The Way Out

The minute that comfy victim Lazy Boy starts to feel dusty and dirty, smelling like one or more of those old payoffs, I invite you to ask yourself one simple question: What is my part in this?  At the core of that victim mentality is a need attached to a wound, a need that I must tend to.  If I’ve had a misunderstanding with someone and feel betrayal or judgement, my need is self-compassion and perhaps an honest conversation for clarification and resolve.  I must own my part in making that happen instead of having a pity party in the fetal position on my bedroom floor like a petulant child.  When we own our part, we create a new, powerful way forward.  We now assume the role of creator in our experience, cashing in the small but familiar payoff we grew accustomed to receiving.  This shift of responsibility is incredibly simple, yet super attractive and life-giving in relationships. That is, unless you forward them this post instructing them to read it because it might be “helpful”.  Oh boy, then you may need to stay tuned for Part III: The Persecutor… 

Love,

katie

xoxo

p.s. In honor of today’s tasty topic, I leave you with Ms. Patty Griffin’s Making Pies.  Enjoy!

Beautiful Lies: Sexual Abuse & Body Image

The Backdrop

One of my absolute favorite things about my work is getting to witness and hold space for clients’ awe-inspiring stories. It has forever changed the way I see strangers walking down the sidewalk, buying groceries, or getting coffee in the Starbucks line. Now, I like to see those people as walking miracles carrying remarkable stories, oftentimes stories that are overlooked or brushed aside.

Today’s story is a perfect example brought to you by one of the most courageous people I have ever met, Suzanna Hendricks. Suzanna is an Event Producer who was on staff close to 3 years with non-profit organization Invisible Children. She moved to Nashville to build an event production and experience design team for the common good called KAIO. in 2014 and recently relocated to Austin, TX to join the staff of the IF:Gathering team as the Development Manager.
As you can see, Suzanna does really cool stuff to effect change in our culture. Yet her greatest weapon is an unbelievably kind and generous heart coupled with a boldness to champion justice, truth, and love in every room she enters. Yep, she’s a badass.

She graciously offered to share her story today in order to shed light and hope on the stories that you might share: stories of sexual abuse, shame, and a resulting shattered body image. Shame is loudest in isolated and dark places. Today, my prayer is that Suzanna’s vulnerability and courage will start a conversation for those of us who feel trapped, silenced, and powerless in our stories of shame.  Let’s dive in.

A Lost Identity

A piece of my identity has always been rooted in shame for as long as I can remember. As people we all struggle with aspects of our identity. Yet as women, I believe we can walk through the world with an acute different standard and deep hidden pain. I’ve learned in this past decade of life that its when we expose to the light things either caused by or perpetrated in the dark, we are set free.

The women of my family are stunningly beautiful.  Beauty that both stills and draws people to them; a kind of rare magic filled with adventure and powerful energy. But our legacy read storylines of abuse, assault, rejection, abandonment, and my greatest one, shame.

Glimpses of Truth

As beautiful as my family is and as often as I have graciously been complimented for similar beauty, the truth is I never saw myself equally lovely.
Who me?

My first memory of being told I was beautiful was at age 14. It was artist Toby Mac who kindly looked at me in a receiving line post show and said, “God wants you to know that you are very beautiful.” I walked out of that building and my heart exploded with all sorts of joy. Beautiful! Me? Wow!

Thinking back after years of healing I wonder why I was 14 before my first memory of being told I was lovely or beautiful.

That truth about myself didn’t last very long. The greater narrative was that I was a victim of sexual abuse and a youth in painful transition with an absent father and younger siblings who were incredibly beautiful. They were called “Princesses” growing up; I was referred to as “Pumpkin”.
I don’t know the exact moment I lost a sense my identity of worth or equality, but go missing it did.

Body Shame

Ingrained in the expectation of perfection and stemming from both sides of my family, thin equals beautiful not healthy. Numbers on a scale were of the highest importance and beginning intros to most “hellos” during family time. It’s that type of narrative and mindset that leads many to eating disorders and self harm for not “measuring up”. I also grew up learning that our outward appearance if tended to well would draw in the attention of men, something to strive for: that feeling of being seen and adored.

Growing up I was always fuller figured. I hit puberty early, inheriting many noticeable family traits of my beautiful aunts on my fathers side, (aka a large chest). I quickly began feeling the unwanted attention of young and old men, immediately becoming uncomfortable with my body.

Those feelings of body shame were perpetuated deeply by own abuse, and later learning of nearly a decade of sexual abuse inflicted on my older sister by our father. There were other tales of violation: women close to me who were abused and stripped of power. Matched with the thoughtful concern of others as to my weight and opinions on what I should or should not be doing, my worthiness and feelings of shame eroded any truthfulness of my own value or beauty.

Reverse Psychology

I saw how beauty could cause both great celebration and harm so I subconsciously took an alternate route than most with those same emotions. Instead of working hard to meet the cultural and familial standard, I shut down the possibility of being harmed, or at least tried like hell to protect myself by decreasing my physical activity paying little attention to what I ate. Concurrently, I began to feel rather sickly but ignored it assuming I was being punished for my apathy. The scale rose and my self worth plummeted.

All along the way in my early 20’s, no one ever asked if something was wrong or if I was depressed or ok. I don’t blame them, we’re conditioned to think that weight is a result of apathy, or laziness instead of digging around for potential pain below the surface. In defiance to the judgement, I’d drink the coke or added extra sugar to my coffee, subconsciously furthering my deteriorating health. Every time my weight was talked about or suggestions were made to “fix the problem”, a part of me died.
In hindsight, I think it was the only thing I felt in control of. Shame has low blows, and its onslaught of internal warring was constant.

Shame says
See, you’re not beautiful enough as your are.
They don’t mean it when they tell you that you’re beautiful.
That person is only attracted to you because of your personality
No one is ever going to want you this way, but at least they can’t hurt you.
You’re not in shape enough to take that adventure, or do that hike, or keep dancing.
If they aren’t attracted to you, Suzanna, they won’t hurt you. You’ll never be what they expect, why try?

Does your heart hurt reading those lines? Mine does too. Because those lies trapped me for so very long.

To stay safe, I let myself go. I let the feeling of failure become king.

Hustling for Acceptance

But, I found that if I loved people well, poured myself out in service or kindness, smiled brightly, and applied the makeup expertly, I was accepted regardless. So, early on I took that knowledge and worked myself into an exhausted sick mess. By my mid-twenties I barely recognized myself: overweight, puffy face/eyes, fatigued, depressed and so much more. It got so bad I could barely get out of bed to drag my sick body to the doctor. When I did, I learned that for close to 5+ years I’d been struggling with Hypothyroidism and had critically low levels on all fronts combined with other intense damage.

Light Shines Through

Within a few months of steady medication – I began to come back to life. It’s been nearly three years since that diagnosis and a long road of self evaluation and healing.

I’ve lived most of my life hiding from the potential that I actually was a beautiful woman; that I could be wanted. Because the lie whispered to me early on was that if I was wanted, or desired, that opened me up to a high chance of pain and abuse.

I learned to compensate by increasing my charm or finding ways to “wear my weight well”; trying to blend in.

Too Unsafe to Succeed

Looking back, it’s really astounding in the all of years of side look stares, comments, and judgements no one ever asked why?  They assumed it was because I didn’t care or that something was wrong with me, but the truth was I cared so much that I wouldn’t fight for it. Because at the root I felt rejected and unsafe; and there was no way in hell I was going to perpetuate that. The hardest truth of it all is that I did perpetuate it, but in a quite opposite sort of way.

I can’t even tell you how many times over the years I have walked into a room and looked for the best way to make sure I appeared to “fit in”. The best angle of a chair, or path of least resistance to a crowd, not sitting in between very slim people or obsessively checking my clothes to make sure I was “put together”. When I would catch someone’s judgmental stare I’d smile sweetly back, challenging them to judge me. It wasn’t until they’d turn their head that my eyes would lower and I’d let the pain flood my heart.

The Journey Out of Lies

The past five years have been a journey of emotional and spiritual healing, and now its time to reclaim the physical part of me. To find strength and health beyond what I’ve ever experienced. I am not putting pressure on myself through this season, but challenging myself to be braver, authentic, and honest.

We all have our battles; the lies that prevent us from living in freedom. This has been mine. This road may take awhile; the important ones usually do. Yet as you find the courage to start facing the giants and slay them with the truth of who you really are, you encounter new ones, but also a strength you didn’t know was there.

Power in Numbers

I am thankful for the amazing people that surrounded me in this season. They have spoken my worth, beauty, and strength over me, lifting me with their words to greater places of wholeness more than they could ever know.

If I’ve learned anything these last years as I’ve worked through a mountain of pain and depression is that having people and God in your court are game changing. I no longer accept judgement as fair or deserved treatment, or take words, even well intended ones, as truth if they cause harm.

It looks a hell of a lot of self compassion, and hard work.

So, to any of you who have been stripped of your true identity through sexual abuse and all it’s aftermath: reach out for support, keep being true and mindful of how you feel, be gracious to yourself, work hard at your wholeness, and treat yourself as you would your best friend.  Know that you are beautiful.
——————
If you or a loved one is currently suffering from abuse of any kind, please reach out. You can do that completely confidentially here. You are not alone.

Love,

katie

xoxo

The Exquisite Practice of Self-Compassion

A couple weeks ago, I sat down with my friend and fellow therapist, Andy Smith of Hoperidge Counseling. It seems each time we catch up over coffee and discuss life, therapy, music, goals, etc., I leave feeling fully inspired. Collaboration is truly something valuable as it opens the proverbial wardrobe door into a Narnia-like place; one full of ideas and possibilities unseen thus far.

With so many moving parts forging full-steam ahead, my daily experience was housed in a state of somewhat contained chaos.

I had been feeling pretty stuck at the time, and not just in a professional sense. With so many moving parts forging full-steam ahead, my daily experience was housed in a state of somewhat contained chaos. Creatively and personally I was swimming upstream.  I don’t remember saying those exact words over coffee, but I am guessing my scatter-brained dialog and late arrival gave it all away. Plus, Andy’s had plenty of experience graciously observing and drawing out what’s really going on under the surface of countless clients in his work. Whatever the case was, we started in on this topic of self-compassion and man did it intrigue me.

Andy and I talked about some of the influential books we had read in the past year or so and he mentioned Self-Compassion: The Proven Power of being Kind to Yourself (purchase here), by Kristin Neff, PhD. As soon as I got home I ordered it.  It was an easy sell-what with Andy’s recommendation and Brene Brown’s endorsement across the top of the front cover boasting “A transformative read”. Done…in just two days I could devour it thanks to Amazon Prime.

This book has truly proven transformative, indeed. To be honest, I’ve grown a bit tired of self-esteem. Don’t get me wrong; self-esteem is vital for maintaining a positive view of ourselves and our experience. But it can be flimsy. It doesn’t cultivate the core infrastructure needed for honest, loving relationship with self and others as well as “wholehearted living” to borrow Brene’s term. Self-esteem feels like a fad diet of cabbage soup and egg whites (you’re welcome), while self-compassion introduces a much more balanced and satisfying approach.

Neff explains, “Although thousands of articles had been written on the importance of self-esteem, researchers were now starting to point out all the traps that people can fall into when they try to get and keep a sense of high self-esteem: narcissism, self-absorption, self-righteous anger, prejudice, discrimination, and so on. I realized that self-compassion was the perfect alternative to the relentless pursuit of self-esteem. Why? Because it offers the same protection against harsh self-criticism as self-esteem, but without the need to see ourselves as perfect or as better than others.”

We can go through the motions of gazing into the mirror and repeating “you’re beautiful” thousands of times and being intentional about self-care from week to week however the deeper understanding and acceptance of our frail humanity could still easily go overlooked. Self-esteem is a piece of the puzzle, but if it does not extend from the embrace of all those glorious imperfections that mark our story, we have shown up a day late for the ball.

I love the word exquisite. I loved it even more after looking up the actual definition. Merriam Webster tells it like this:

a :  marked by flawless craftsmanship or by beautiful, ingenious, delicate, or elaborate execution <an exquisite vase>

b :  marked by nice discrimination, deep sensitivity, or subtle understanding <exquisite taste>

Self-compassion is truly exquisite. Unscathed by the flashy trends of pop psychology, it is a deep, spiritual work, nuanced with an invaluable and delicate kindness. Not only this, but it requires a “subtle understanding” of our shared human experience, wrought with all kinds of success and failure.

Most of you reading this are easily moved to compassion for the loved ones in your life who suffer. Hell, you probably even experience this for countless others you don’t personally know. For example, take the horrific terrorist attacks in Paris and more recently in Brussels. I’m certain you didn’t hear the news and smugly mutter under your breath, “Well, they probably deserved that injustice”. Unthinkable. My hunch is you felt deep sorrow and were tweaked with anger upon the news of these atrocities.

If we are familiar with suffering, and we all are, why is it so difficult to extend this same grace to ourselves? Our circumstances may not be as extreme or newsworthy; however, the harshness with which we treat ourselves is tragically epidemic. What if instead we sit with an observing eye of our unique experience, witnessing that very real inner struggle, and offer words of understanding and compassion?

I hope this new spring season will inspire you in your own Exquisite Practice of Self-Compassion. If you want a great place to start, take the free Self-Compassion test here!

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

xoxo
As always, I value your feedback! Thoughts,  feelings, and ideas are most welcome…This is meant to be a conversation starter

Happy New Year – A Note on Goals

Happy New Year, friends! I write this with great expectancy and anticipation for a beautiful 2016. It seems as though the first several weeks of January bring a sparkling hope and determination to get back in the gym, learn a new instrument, back off from bad habits, and maybe even practice a bit more self-care and awareness. Some call these New Year’s resolutions; I like to call them goals. For whatever reason, goals seem easier to stick with and far less daunting. Whatever matter of wording serve your process best, I want to communicate my deep longing to support you in them this year.

Personally, 2015 was one for the books—a truly unforgettable year! After years of slowly building my practice and working several odd jobs along the way, I finally reached a pivotal point of streamlining all of my time and focus into my three loves: private practice, music, and writing. This leap was scary at first; however, it has proven to be the right move as the net of opportunity and provision have met me in mid-air. This would not have been possible had you not trusted me as part of your journey to wholeness AND believed in me enough to refer peers and loved ones as well. For this I cannot thank you enough.

When I say it is an honor to journey with you I cringe by its seeming triteness! I’m overwhelmed with pure gratitude for you and am in awe of your story. I am humbled by your courage to reach out for extra light and support—that is one of the most vulnerable things we can do as humans. I am inspired by your beauty and uniqueness; you are so very special and I love holding the space for you to embrace the inner wisdom that paves the road to increased acceptance and joy. So again, thank you for making the precious investment in therapy and for sharing your truly magnificent lives with me in 2015.

2015 was also a year of huge blessing in that I got engaged after many, many years of waiting. Finding someone who loves me unconditionally AND challenges me to be the best version of myself is a miraculous gift—and one definitely worth the wait. Contrary to the wildly romantic ideas of the classic movie Jerry McGuire, relationships and people do not complete us; however, we do grow and heal in the context of them- and of course are meant to very much enjoy them! I love how author Donald Miller captures this concept in his latest masterpiece, Scary Close, with the notion that we are “ companions in the longing.” Feeling safety and acceptance in this journey of longing is indeed a magical thing.

As we embrace this new year, I want to leave you with some wisdom my dear father has always lived by and continually shares with our family: Write down your goals. It doesn’t matter how big or small they are. Write them down. Care about yourself enough to look at them often and even tweak them along the way. There is something powerful that happens when we transpose our goals from their inner birthplace onto paper. It’s a sacred transfer. If you don’t know what you’re goals are yet, that’s ok! Pay attention to what brings you excitement and energy and go from there. Don’t judge your goals; just write them down. Carve out some time this month to journal about those heart longings; I believe they are vitally important to who we are. As I often say, we are most content when we are connected to our desires and making daily choices to align with them. I am here for you in this process; it is my joy and passion to work alongside you!

Love and Gratitude,
katie

Holiday Part 2 (Dreams)

A Dream and some songs.

After the hustle and bustle of Christmas and before the clinking glasses and hopeful toasts of New Year’s Eve, there is space; a lull of sorts.  That lull is about 6 days long and I absolutely love it.  Workloads tend to lighten, the Christmas tree is still lit, leftover fudge and Chex mix abounds, road rage lessens, and I get to don my cozy new boot socks Santa brought me.  Success!   Perhaps best of all though,   my overactive imagination runs hard and fast like Eric Liddell in the 1924 Summer Olympics (Insert: “Chariots of Fire” theme song).  This sacred space allows my introvert to really shine as I take inventory of the year: it’s joys, heartaches, awkward moments (you know you have them too…), losses, hilarities, and lessons learned.

If you have worked with me in a counseling setting,

I allow myself a good day if possible to just dream; to journal and visualize those things that I long for in the coming days, weeks, and months.  In therapy, we talk a lot about goals.  I am pretty sure I read somewhere that the happiest people around are really good at setting goals for themselves.  I am NOT referring to New Year’s resolutions. Those tend to create an impossible set of  rules based on obligation as opposed to desire, and often end in failure and frustration. Take the infamous  “get fit quick fix” we have all fallen prey to. If the resolution is to grace Barry’s Boot Camp at 5:30am, 7 days a week for a month, you will undoubtedly find me “exercising” my stubbornness as I double fist a triple grande latte and a cranberry scone at the corner Starbucks  instead.  Perhaps you have a different experience and if so I applaud you.

But what if we took our dreams and desires; those things that bring life, possibility, and excitement; and boiled them down into realistic, attainable goals?  What if there was a way to put some tangible probability to our dreams?  Personally, I want to finish a handful of songs and get back in the studio to record them after a year-long hiatus. (There, now I’ve said it. I’m committed and accountable!) What is that thing for you?  I would love to hear about them, brainstorm, and even journey with you as we turn 2015’s corner!  We all need support on our journeys as we reach toward those dreams and desires that make us the unique creatures that we are.

It’s Go time…

Just for kicks, and because I do love a good song, I have created a little playlist on Spotify for your dream-making, imagination-fueling, and goal-setting pleasure. They are some of my favorite songs of 2014.  I hope you enjoy…and would love to connect with you soon!

Happy New Year and Cheers to YOU!

Love and Gratitude,