Magic in the Meltdown

If today’s title caught your eye, you are in the right place—Welcome.

When was the last time you had a meltdown?  You know, the powerless, ugly-cry, shut the world out because no one seems to understand how hard it is variety?  

It felt as though your body was boiling over with frustration so much so that it had to find a release so naturally, the eager emotional wheelhouse got a proverbial hall pass and skipped town on someone else’s dime.  It was a bender of a meltdown, remember?

In those moments, all I want to do is fix it, run, or somehow numb it in order to escape the tight and uncomfortable tension I’m feeling.  It’s simply too much.  

Days later and with time’s firm and steady grip around my limp hand, I realize something magical: there was and always is a clear way out.  However, against my resistant heart’s desire, that magic occurs as we willingly walk through the pain, not around it.  

I feel this sometimes when I can’t sleep.  I’ve been known to struggle with insomnia. Sometimes there’s a reason for it, and sometimes my stubborn body simply won’t shut off.

You know what the most frustrating bit of this dilemma is? It’s not the actual inability to sleep; it’s the belief that I “should” be able to sleep; that I am somehow guaranteed this right without question.  The entitlement trap is what gets me every time, leaving me resentful on top of delirious.  

What I realize after those seasons of scant shut-eye pass is something pretty basic, yet poignant: 

It didn’t kill me.  

In fact, it gave me something to learn from, write about, and understand better in order to amp up my arsenal of sleep tools.  (PSA: If you have trouble sleeping, let’s totally talk.)

Last week, I shared a very special interview with Miles Adcox, Owner and CEO of Onsite Workshops, a regular guest expert on the Dr. Phil Show, new Dad, among many other cool things.  If you missed the episode, definitely go back and check it out, he delivers some brilliant insight in there for us.

I ask every guest the same question: If you could give your 25-year-old self a piece of advice, what would it be?  (For you millennials out there, let’s say 15.)   

What he said was stunningly simple and so applicable to you and me: “It’s okay to not be okay.”

Wait. What?  

You mean, when I’m mid-meltdown of the century and nothing, I mean, NOTHING, looks as it should, it’s….OKAY?

Yes.

I’ve sat with those words a lot lately, and they bring me continual peace.  In my experience, like with the sleep situation, often it’s not the actual pain of the problem that is most piercing.  Instead, it’s the belief that whatever is happening shouldn’t be.  That, I believe, is the difference between pain and suffering.  

Pain inevitably ebbs and flows throughout this life if we are walking around with anything vaguely resembling a heartbeat.  However, suffering is the delicately crafted narrative we create about our pain.  “I shouldn’t be feeling this way” or “my past was too much to bear.”

Curiously, life is made up of a 50/50 split of positive and negative feeling emotions.  

Lately, I’ve been a student of this highly valuable process called unlearning: unlearning the entitlement stories, the fixing agents, the escape routes, and the harsh judgements that accompany my pain.  

We spend so much of our lives trying to fix the flaws we think hold us back in life, and little do we know that the unlearning of these remedies will be the savior who picks us off that fast and broken road.  

We must be the un-teacher of these numbing agents as we lean into the discomfort and tension of the moment.  

After all, it very likely won’t kill us.

You don’t need fixing; you need to be understood.  If we are constantly trying to escape ourselves and our pain, we will never get close enough to understand the root of it and answer its cry.  We must gently, and with loads of self-compassion, listen and embrace the voice of our dilemma, whatever it speaks.  This is the magical crossroads of our painful experience and total acceptance.  Not only that but ironically, this is the surest route to our deepest joy.

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

xoxo

Emotional Fitness: An Interview with Miles Adcox

Happy Thursday!

Today’s episode is near and dear to my heart, perhaps because it’s personal.

Life is absolutely full of light and dark, good and bad, ups and downs—all kinds of colorful seasons.  Something I love about the passage of time is we get to see many of the complex questions of yesterday make a bit more sense in our today.
 Often times, our painful past experiences have birthed resilience stories that we get to carry along in our pocket and give away to those in need.  It doesn’t mean we’d want to go through those seasons again, yet it sure gives levity and meaning to the wounds.

Part of my story has been a crippling battle with depression/anxiety dating back to high school.   About a decade ago, it came to a head, despite years of therapy, cocktails of medication, you name it.

Thankfully, I heard about Onsite workshops from Cindy, a dear family friend.  I could tell by the way she described her time there that this wasn’t your typical treatment program.  No, Onsite was different; experiential in nature and truly transformative.

I was desperate, so I went.  Scared out of my mind?  Yes.  I still went.

Desperate trumped scared.

Grateful doesn’t begin to describe how I feel in retrospect.  Going through “Living Centered,” their flagship program, was an unforgettable healing experience.

Today, I’m beyond excited to share a very special interview with Miles Adcox, owner and CEO of Onsite.  As you’ll learn in the intro of today’s episode, Miles has quite an impressive resume, and yet, his humility and transparency about the shifting journey he’s been on is inspiring and endearing.

I can’t wait for you to listen and learn more about Miles’ story and upcoming projects.  Every time I talk to Miles, I’m reminded of what it means to truly make life matter, taking each day as a new opportunity for growth and change.  I have a hunch you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about after listening to this interview.

Enjoy and share away!

Love and Gratitude,

Katie

*My podcast theme song is titled “Land of the Living,” written and performed by the very brilliant and gracious Matthew Perryman Jones.

Changing the Conversation: Insight from Brené Brown

“Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.”  

-Rumi

Despite the evil display of hate crimes and bigotry in Charlottesville this past week, I’m still convinced we live in a loving universe.

Wait, before you look away in discomfort or write this post off as a political rant, stay with me.

We’re not going there today.

This post is really about relationships and at the core of any loving relationship is healthy communication.  I didn’t say easy communication…I said healthy communication.  This often takes shape in the form of hard conversations.

I had a lovely little number in the hopper for you today about the mind-body connection and just how important our life force of breath is to that mix.  However, after watching such horrific and seemingly dated images of racism, hatred, and violence; my heart has felt confused and my vision—very blurry.

In my bubble of what I now know of as privilege, I made up a story in my head that we were somehow past this as a nation.  Wrong.  It’s been simmering beneath the surface at a slow and steady boil all along.

While waiting to board a flight back to Nashville yesterday in Los Angeles, I numbly scrolled down my Facebook feed looking for something, I’m not sure what.

I came across a Facebook Live recording of Brené Brown entitled “We need to keep talking about Charlottesville.”  “Thank God,” I mumbled under my breath, “I need some direction here.” And from who better than a woman who has spent her life researching, writing, and teaching us all about shame and vulnerability.

Friends, these are critical times we can’t simply detach from or sleep through.  The root system of fear is so expansive and insidious, yet the power to effect change through our awareness and empathy is truly phenomenal.

We won’t get there with shame, as Dr. Brown shares.  We will get there by owning our stories and having thoughtful and open conversations.  They may feel uncomfortable and very imperfect and that’s okay.  I’m learning a lot these days about leaning into uncertainty and discomfort.

If you’ve thought to yourself this last several days, “What is my part in this complex and harsh reality unfolding before our eyes in Charlottesville?”, I’ve got some answers. (Well, technically, Brené Brown does.)

Please take 30 minutes and watch this video linked below.  Share it with friends.  It’s a humbling truth and a hopeful invitation to own our part in this fear-based meta story of hostility.

This is very much about you and I.  It’s about being human.  It’s about relating better to your loved ones and changing the conversation from judgement to accountability — from fear to trust.

I’d love to know your thoughts regarding her insight as well as how you’re conversations are unfolding in your spheres of influence.  *Be prepared, there’s a bit of language in this video, but I know you’ll see past that. 

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

xoxo

P.S.  Stay tuned next week for a VERY special guest on my podcast who has the privilege of knowing and working with Brené Brown.  I’ll be announcing who this is early next week!  Eep!

Leaning into Loss- 4 Lessons on Grief

“Resilience comes from deep within us and from support outside us. It comes from gratitude for what’s good in our lives and from leaning in to the suck.”

Sheryl Sandberg

I recently attended an all-day workshop led by David Kessler, self-help author and grief guru.  He is most well known for his groundbreaking work with Elisabeth Kubler Ross, a Swiss-American psychiatrist who pioneered what we know as hospice care as well as the Kubler-Ross model, or the five stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance).

Despite Kessler’s expertise in death and grieving, he is hilarious. He cracked jokes throughout the entire day, poking fun at himself and taking some light-hearted stabs at the afterlife.  I found this profound in light of his work’s focus. 

It’s impossible to funnel all the takeaways into 500 words or less, but I’m going to do my best to share some punchy truths about grief that rocked me to the core. 

Here are four key insights to remember about grief and the grieving process: 

We Grieve in Character

Have you ever known someone who is super level-headed, maybe even annoyingly practical and even-keel, experience a major loss and recover with seamless resilience?  Perhaps to the point you even asked them, “Are you sure you’re okay?  You don’t even seem like this phased you!”  

Unless there is a very small chance (less than 15% I learned at the workshop) they’re experiencing delayed grief, he/she is grieving in character, meaning— the way we normally do life is the way we also grieve.  

Me, on the other hand, grieve all colors of the rainbow; with intensity and every shade of emotion.  However, as an Enneagram four, my feelings even have feelings, so this is par for the course. 

Suffering is Optional

Throughout the day, Kessler kept coming back to this truth bomb: Pain is inevitable; suffering is optional. 

Pain and loss are absolutely a part of life.  Suffering, however, is the story we make up about our pain.  For example, “This shouldn’t be happening to me” or “It wasn’t supposed to end this way.” We quickly forget how much a part of life loss is as the proverbial record gets stuck on that screeching note of overwhelming shock and awe.  

The upside to this is we have complete power over whether we suffer long-term or not.  When we suffer, we live in our heads and attach to narratives of futile embellishments…”why me?”  

This is where resilience shines center stage as we courageously “lean into the suck” as Sheryl Sandberg cleverly puts it in her latest book Option B.  Loss is painful, and the quickest way to the other side is through it, not around it.

Fixing Doesn’t Work

There is no rational way to fix traumatic loss just like there is no way of scientifically explaining romantic love.  It just is.  

Grief must be witnessed, not explained.  When I try to relate to someone in their grief by offering up a “me too,” what I’m doing is making it about me, not actively listening, and in doing so, cheapening their very real experience.  Don’t worry, grief will inevitably run its complex and necessary course.  We don’t have to, nor can we ever simply fix it.  A hug, an open ear, and a shoulder to cry on will work far better.

From my own experience, I’m reminded that isolation wreaks havoc on the grieving soul.  No, I’m not saying we need to extrovert-up and throw ourselves into social chaos. However, knowing we’ve got a few safe people who will witness our grief is vital. 

We’re not meant to go this road alone.

Math

As I wrap up this recap, I am sort of cringing on the inside.  It’s so pat…so formulaic.  The grieving process is far from math.  It’s ghastly.  It feels like death.  It’s bigger than space and time and breaks us in a way that feels violent, wrong.  So how do we intentionally bring awareness to this part of life, even when what we currently experience feels light and joyful?  I think it’s a combination of two things: we give thanks a helluva lot more for the things we have that bring life, laughter, and meaning.  We also talk more openly about the reality of loss, not to focus on the negative, but mindfully acknowledge the fragility of it all.  These two go hand in hand.  

If you or someone you know is alone in their grief, know that there are options. Please reach out if your grief needs a witness. 

It won’t stop the pain, but it might ease the suffering.   

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

Where is Your Happy Place?

“Wandering re-establishes the original harmony which once existed between man and the universe.”
-Anatole France

You’ve arrived

Where are you? What are the smells, the sounds, the landscape, the energy, and the people like? What emotions rise like a hot air balloon in your chest, slowly filling up with the gust of anticipation, of fun? What is the relationship that you have with this place? I bet it’s a very happy place, indeed.

Switcheroo

I get stuck. This happens about once every three months if I don’t give my surroundings a little switcheroo. Call it boredom, call it a shiny thing withdrawal, call it ADHD, call it whatever you will—but it’s true. As a result, I’ve learned it’s super important to intentionally seek out our happy places as often as possible, so we don’t get forgetful and lose perspective of the vast, diverse world we hold citizenship in.

Homebody

Perhaps you are thinking to yourself, “But I don’t need to go find my happy place, I’m a homebody, and my happy place is on the couch.” Okay, fair enough. We can dance theoretically here if you want. So, the couch is really your happy place; that’s awesome. However, if you’ve gotten comfortably numb while glued to Season 5 of House of Cards (guilty), and forgot what inspired feels like in your bones, it may be time to move around a little bit.

Don’t get me wrong, I love being at home. I love routine and ritual and rest…all those “r” words.  The older I get, I consider myself a homebody more and more. I love the control of it all, however, I can easily slip into the rut of complacency and self absorption, thinking the rest of the planet shares a striking resemblance to me.  Thankfully, it doesn’t!

New York

(One) of my happy places is New York City. I just got back from a week there to celebrate my birthday and do some much anticipated Brainspotting with the developer, Dr. David Grand. My nerd and city girl  were both fully satisfied, and It was glorious.  That said, I’ve very grateful.

When I conjure up my happy place, here’s what I envision:

I smell the steamy wafts of street vendors and food trucks hustling their curried meats, freshly baked pretzels, and savory egg and cheese sandwiches. I hear a slew of foreign languages fighting across streets to be heard; some bickering, some joking, and some sharing the latest juicy office gossip. I hear the bleating horns of cabs and the soulful strains of a singer- songwriter covering a Beatles tune in Central Park.

I see stunning, impossibly thin models smoking cigs and downing green juice on their way to a shoot.  In the same glance, the finance guys head back to Wall St. in their fitted John Varvatos and shiny watches after lunch. They’re shamelessly checking out the models.

All of it

The dreamy parks of the West Village teem with young dads swinging their kids and lovely older married couples drinking cappuccinos as they read the Times. They’ve seen a thing or two. Cafe owners fling wide their french doors and water the poppy colored pansies in the flower boxes. They thoughtfully write out the nights specials on a chalkboard and do a quick tasting of the night’s featured wines with a tiny, well-versed staff.

It’s the quirky innovation of the Highline, the classic majesty of Central Park, the edgy grit of Tribecca, the polished panache of the Upper West Side, the sweaty stench of the subway, the esteemed fashion houses of Soho, and the sprawling boldness of Brooklyn. All of it makes me intensely happy.

Faces of God

As you may gather, the City lights me up. Sure, there are other cities I adore, however, not many cities lend this visceral gift of inspiration and pulsing energy. It’s constant, messy, creative, gorgeous, exhausting, delicious…it’s life.
One of the many reasons this is my happy place is I see so many beautifully diverse faces of God. By this I mean, I’m reminded that God is pure love and creativity, and thus far bigger and better than we can possibly fit into a box.
My world shrinks up if I don’t intentionally commit to a bit of wandering. Wandering reminds me there’s an insane amount of life out there and it doesn’t look just like me. When I am in my happy place, It’s impossible NOT to see the bigger picture.

Zoom out.

If we take a wide-lens camera and zoom out really far, I think the overall footprint is love. It’s far more recognizable than hate, though hate desperately fights to be seen and heard. So, this is my invitation to you: go find the place that reminds you of life’s brilliant color, possibility, and love. You don’t have to get on a plane or spend a bunch of money. However, you may need to wander off the familiar path (or couch). Where is your happy place? Is it the ocean? The mountains?  Perhaps your the park down the street.  Whatever that place is, I’d love to know all about it…

Love & Gratitude,

katie

xoxo