Your Grace: Practicing Abundance in Relationships

There’s something worth noting about relationships: when stress levels and daily busyness rise, patience and grace for those closest to us take a sharp nosedive.  It’s like a scientific law or something.

The holiday season is a double-edged sword: on one side, it’s lovely and ushers in ample opportunity for joy and celebration. On the other side, it can drain us of every last ounce of peace we thought we’d hoovered up during the “off months” leading up.

Let’s face it, if there is a time that relationships fall prey to resentment and conflict, it is surely now.  

We hemorrhage money, we play the comparison game, we over-plan, we tend to indulge a wee bit, and we flat out go go go.  

Do you relate?  I’m curious, do any of your relationships take a hit this time of year?  Perhaps you notice a slightly deflated reserve of patience for friends and family that otherwise wouldn’t phase you?  

I know I do.  

Perfect example:  Thanksgiving Dinner was at our house this past week.  As much as I adore hosting dinner parties, this was my inaugural Thanksgiving Dinner.  I was stoked, to say the least.  

Now, as a recovering perfectionist, I swing slightly towards the control freak side of the spectrum.  (Ok, maybe "slightly" is generous.)  I drive a tight ship when it comes to culinary experiences and ensuring those present thoroughly enjoy their time.  This past year, I finally embraced the motto: Go big or go home.

I’d timed everything out just right: arrival at four, sunset aperitif and hor d’oeuvres at four thirty-five, and dinner around six.  I’d stayed up until midnight the night before designing the table and brining those poor birds.  I was all in.

Well, as you can probably detect, my perfect little plan didn’t quite fly.  I mean, it did, but in a way I hadn’t engineered, naturally.  My siblings missed the sunset, the appetizers weren’t ready on time, and I developed a big fat attitude.  

“I mean, where are they? They’re missing the best part! How rude.” 

My very lovely and kind mother looked straight at me and said two words very sternly, “GRACE, Katie!”

Those tiny words shook me, resetting my entire outlook faster than a costume change on Broadway.  

Grace…

The rest of the evening was so special, not because of anything I did or didn’t execute, but because of each person there and the unique gift they brought to the space and conversation that could never have been orchestrated by me or Martha Stewart for that matter.  

Here is a question for us this season: how can we practice abundance in our relationships and in doing so, extend more grace?  

Sure, we think of the holiday season as full—abundant.  What if we could build that picture up to include the practice of abundance with people?  

Practicing abundance in relationships may look different for you and me, however, here are a few quick ways to beef up our game:

• Choose to believe the absolute best about people when they disappoint or hurt your feelings. Try not to make assumptions about them.
• Intentionally cultivate positive, life-giving thoughts about people throughout the day whether it be a spouse, parent, co-worker, or friend.
• Draw boundaries for yourself both physically and emotionally throughout the season so as not to grow tired and clumsy with those closest to you.  Clear, firm boundaries allow us to love from a far more authentic space in relationships.  
• Be generous and intentional with your words.  I have a friend who always says, “If you see something beautiful in someone, speak it out.”  Our words are powerful and carry gravity in this relational and energetic world we live in, let’s practice abundance instead of scarcity with them.

Miguel Ruiz, author of The Four Agreements, got it right when he succinctly wrote,

“Be impeccable with your word.  Don’t take anything personally.  Don’t make assumptions. Always do your best.”  

Grace is something curious—exquisite.  In my understanding, we don’t earn grace, yet we’ve all received it at some point along the way, without merit and without cause.  Perhaps you know someone who extends grace to you in a way that feels expansive and incredibly safe.  Draw from that light, create that welcoming space for a weary soul who needs a soft landing pad.  We simply don't know the struggles those around us face, especially when we're wrapped up in our own little world.

Practicing abundance with people isn’t just for them, it is for you and me as well.  Grace is a legacy never forgotten.  This season, let’s pay it forward and give the gift of grace,  just because.  

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

xoxo

Thanksgiving & Your Relationship with Food: 3 Ways to Make it Better

Thanksgiving is upon us.  I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: it’s my favorite holiday, hands down.  There is a waft of generosity and anticipation in the air without the added pressure to fill up stockings or run around on a mission to find just the perfect gift while fighting back the road rage.

Often, there is an excuse to spend the afternoon with friends and family (read: FOO or FOC…*family of origin or family of choice).  Oh, and the embrace of crisp, clean air beckons a cozy fire and hall pass to straight chill.

Am I missing something?  Oh right, then there’s the minor, insignificant detail of the day: FOOD.

You know, that give or take, decadent Thanksgiving meal that wouldn’t be complete without turkey (we throw in duck, too), dressing, pumpkin pie, and all those very comforting sides that I eat for days in various creative renditions.  I mean, who says you can’t have pecan pie with your coffee for breakfast?  (Maybe leave off the heavy whipping cream… or just go ahead and repurpose it in your coffee, you choose.)  

Sarcasm aside, food is hands down the main event of the day.

It should be easy, right?  A rich and delicious meal, good people, gratitude…?

Not so fast.  My guess is you may have had some not so friendly dealings in your day with food as a result of body image challenges.  I know I have.  

In fact, I’ve worked really hard to enjoy food at Thanksgiving.  My relationship with food was once hateful and toxic.  I developed anorexia nervosa when I was 15.  One day, I stepped on a scale and the number staring back at me was in my estimation, too high.  So, I did what I do, and I took control, or so I thought.  I began running and eating super clean.  

Like so many extremes, this one started off pure, with a desire to be healthy and feel good about myself.  It went downhill fast, and pretty soon, at 5’6”, the number staring back at me was an emaciated 88 pounds.  NOT a good look.  

I was in a critical health crisis, and my doctor swore she’d throw my butt into inpatient care and stick feeding tubes in me faster than I could say kale chips if I didn’t agree to her plan of action.

The fact that I’ve cultivated a loving relationship with food is a glorious miracle I thank God for daily.  And, my oh my, do I love food.  I’ve come to love it in a way that respects it instead of manipulates it.  

Think about it, what if you treated a friend in a way that felt manipulative and scarce as we often do food?  What if we had thoughts about a loved one as we have about food?  

“I’m going to starve all day Wednesday so I can binge on Thanksgiving.”

“If I lose ten pounds, I’ll be beautiful and worthy of love.”

I mean, seriously, I can’t imagine my relationships with people existing of such controlling and relentless behavior.  I definitely wouldn’t be my friend.  

So why do we treat food and our bodies with such fear and manipulation?

Mean Girls aside, as you glide into the homestretch of Thanksgiving Day fixin’s and the ongoing feast of the season, here are three simple tips for you bring to the table.

1) Focus on the connection, not just the consumption.

My favorite thing about a dinner party, or family dinner, or lunch date with a friend isn’t entirely the food, although that’s a fun piece of it.  It’s about the connection happening in the midst of it.  A humbling practice I learned in recovery is this beautiful notion of letting a meal be more about connecting with yourself and others than solely about consuming food.  

Thanksgiving’s central focus is gratitude; the meal is a mere vehicle of this.  As you fill your plate to the very edge this Thursday and sit down to enjoy, remember to lean into conversation and connection around you.   This allows us to really slow down and I promise the food will taste that much better.  

2) Taste your food.

This may sound basic, but it’s actually a lot harder than you think.  In our microwave society of instant gratification and epic consumerism, slowing down to taste food is a rare art form.  To fully enjoy, we must connect with our senses, and this takes a bit more awareness and time than does shoveling stuffing down the hatch.  

Immerse yourself in the experience: the smells, the texture, the spices, and maybe even what it reminds you of, if anything.  Allow yourself to be all in, again, not simply inhaling in order to get first dibs on seconds.

3) Listen to your body.

We must honor our bodies and our food by slowing down enough to hear when we’re approaching food coma status.  (And we all go there from time to time!)  

It takes 20 minutes for our bodies to register fullness.  I am queen of eating so fast I think I may need a stretcher and the ER because I’ve just inhaled entirely too much food, (Mexican food does it every time).  I didn’t give my brain enough time to tell my stomach we were maxed out—no bueno. 

Sure, we typically overdo it on Thanksgiving, and that’s okay!  It’s good to allow ourselves the grace to do so from time to time.  My hope for you and this Thanksgiving is that you will simply embrace it with open arms and a hungry heart (as well as belly).  Loosen the grip of fear that wants to control and manipulate, and bring your whole being into the occasion.  Let gratitude blanket your experience as you marinate in the richness of connection.  

Now, I’m officially hungry!  

Happiest of Thanksgiving to you and yours!

Gratitude & Love,

Katie

xoxo

Take Me to Church

I grew up in a LOT of church.  For years, I even played music professionally in church both as a singer and worship leader.  

We grow up learning to value and live by belief systems passed down to us from the cultures we grow up in.  For me, this was steeped in Evangelical church culture as my parents were both involved in ministry for as long as I can remember.  This was my “first structure,” as Richard Rohr defines it in one of my favorite books about the spiritual journey called Falling Upward.  This initial infrastructure for belief informed most of mine and our family’s early life. I’m eternally grateful for it.

However, part of the self and truth-discovery process always involves holding those first, hand-me-down values up to the light to grapple with and establish our own set of convictions and beliefs.  Often they are an extension of those early establishments but sometimes, they take on an entirely different tone.  Stepping into our truth is an ongoing process and one that involves doubt, questioning, discomfort, time, debate, and a generous helping of self-compassion—on repeat.  

I say all this only because my spiritual landscape has not included church much at all in the last several years.  Instead, I’ve found a soft landing pad in the arms of rest, nature, loving relationships, and plenty of downtime time (involving books, a journal, and the glorious drip of caffeine).  Going church-rogue has honestly felt expansive, and at the same time like I’m missing out.  On what?  Keep reading….

So the same is true for live shows and funerals.  I know, weird. Despite the fact that I didn’t grow up going to a ton of concerts or funerals, I’ve developed a bit of laziness around both.  I mean come on, you may know exactly what I mean if you spent most of your twenties and early thirties at a late night show in a packed, dark, and often smelly venue somewhere in Nashville.  

Maybe I’m just getting old and cynical, but these days I’d rather stay home, cook dinner, take a bath, and get some serious shut-eye.  Don’t get me wrong; music is a big part of my life…it’s with the getting out part that I’m on the struggle bus.  

I may have a pounding shame hangover after admitting this next one, but I shy away from funerals too.  Of course, not if it’s a family member or loved one (I’m not a monster.)  I’m talking about the ones where I wouldn’t be missed if I didn’t show.  My thoughts regarding these are typically, “I don’t want to crowd or add any additional stress for the family” and “Do they really want me there?  I’ll just be in the way.”  

And then there is that obvious element of deep pain and fear I have surrounding this minor little fact of life called mortality.  Let’s face it; it’s easier to simply opt out.  

Or is it?

Why do church, concerts, and funerals matter so much?  In an oversimplified nutshell, here’s why:

Beyond belief, beyond preference, beyond discomfort, we MUST find ways to show up and place our unique thumbprint on this undeniably grounding root system of collective human connection by touching moments of joy and pain.  

There is enough bad news cycling each day thanks to 24-hour news.  You get it; good news is slim pickins’.  But the worst thing in the world is for me to throw my hands up, peace out, and judge the world through my disconnected lens of comfort, isolation, and cynicism.  

 In Braving the Wilderness, Dr. Brene Brown renders,

 “We’re in a spiritual crisis, and the key to building a true belonging practice is maintaining our belief in inextricable human connection.  That connection-the spirit that flows between us and every other human in the world-is not something that can be broken; however, our belief in the connection is constantly tested and repeatedly severed.  When our belief that there’s something greater than us, something rooted in love and compassion, breaks, we are more likely to retreat to our bunkers, to hate from afar, to tolerate bullshit, to dehumanize others, and, ironically, to stay out of the wilderness.”

She later shares the key to maintaining this belief and connection to humanity lies in our willingness to show up for collective moments of joy and pain so that we can witness this stunning human connectedness.  

We brand into our bones the hope of human connection when we show up for moments of joy and pain alongside fellow travelers.  Sure, we’re all unique when you zoom in close, but if we zoom out with a wide-angle lens, we see the remarkable footprint of humanity—a desire to belong.

It’s being moved to tears beholding a stadium full of people singing the National Anthem.  It’s holding the hand of a grieving stranger sitting next to you in the pew on Sunday morning. It’s screaming “with or without you” at the top of your lungs when U2 comes through town.  For me, especially around this time of year, it’s leaving the Nutcracker ballet for the twentieth time completely inspired alongside all the other frustrated ballerina’s in the room that will dream of Sugarplum Fairies for days.

These moments all feel like church to me.  I’m going.  Who’s with me? 

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

The Fall Edit: Navigating Seasonal Depression

For some, it’s the most wonderful time of the year.  We’ve been patiently waiting on the edge of our seats since mid-August when Home Depot rolled out their Halloween decorations.  The anticipation of fall weather, the slew of heavy-hitting holidays, the countless excuses to consume creative forms of sugary carbs at every turn, the invasion of busyness, what have you.

For others of us, this season is painfully sad—even frightful.  The days get shorter, precious sunlight is snuffed out hours earlier, physical energy is drained, and loneliness rolls in like dark, bulbous clouds before a hurricane.  

I have definitely experienced more of the latter.  Seasonal depression is slang for Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD…aptly).  It’s not “depression light,” and it shouldn’t be dumbed down to the “winter blues” either.  It is a subtype or specific kind of major depression that is symptomatic with the changing seasons, especially fall and winter months.  

There is so much pressure to be “merry and bright” leading up to the holidays, which can really leave those of us that are seasonally challenged feeling misunderstood if not pissed off.  

I remember years when all I could think about was surviving the weeks and months of cold and dark—Thanksgiving and Christmas were simply another reminder that I felt so alone and afraid.  Afraid of what?  Perhaps that there was something wrong with me or it would always be this way.  Or maybe I was scared of being untethered and insecure in life.  Whatever the reason, I just wanted to get through it all and land safely on the other side when the days would contract even just a minute or two each day.  

I’ve been pretty open about my experience with depression along the way, so you might guess that those of us who deal with major depression also deal with SAD.  This can be true, but doesn’t have to be.  Similar to Postpartum depression, existing depression doesn’t always set the stage.  Oftentimes, they do go hand in hand.

It was always so helpful for me to know that I wasn’t alone in my struggle with SAD, or ongoing depression for that matter.  That said, I want to open up the dialog here today and cut through all the fluffy expectations we fall prey to around this time of year, as well as drop some helpful ways to readjust and navigate the season a bit differently.  

If you experience a noticeable shift in mood, physical activity, patience for people, energy level, sleep, and desire to participate, keep reading.  If you are a human being with a heartbeat, keep reading; I have a hunch someone in your life needs your grace and support because they suffer from SAD.  

There are obvious and not so obvious reasons for SAD.  The ones we all agree on are simple though: with less exposure to sunlight during the fall and winter months, our internal clock can often get pummeled, leaving depleted levels of serotonin, a brain chemical that helps govern and boost our mood, and melatonin, that gorgeous sleep stuff.  

I’m hugely light sensitive.  Visualize that bratty kid who screams at the top of her lungs when she stubs her big toe.  Yep, that’s about my pain tolerance to diminishing light. Even walking into a dark house at the end of the day can viscerally affect my mood.  Windows are my best friend.  I’m a total extrovert when it comes to windows—the more, the merrier. 

So, when the world goes dark around 4:30 pm, you better believe I’ve learned to emotionally rearrange my experience after 38 years. 

Here are some helpful tools I’ve come to rely on in the dim days ahead:

Routine

Structure is the sensitive soul’s best friend.  Oh, how I’ve come to love structure.  For me, this looks like intentionally planning out my days from week to week.  In the fall and winter months, it looks like starting a bit earlier so I can enjoy more sunlight, even just 30 minutes.  

When emotions whip us around, taking their throne in the driver seat of life, it can be so easy to slip into the victim mentality, feeling powerless.  Having a set structure, or routine for our days helps us reclaim the steering wheel.  

My morning ritual is everything to me.  It allows me time and space to practice the things that ground me like meditation, writing, and reading.  In the coming days and months, experiment by putting some new structures into place to facilitate a more ordered interior landscape.

Exercise

Exercise has officially become my antidepressant of choice throughout my lifetime.  Hear me out, antidepressants can be a very helpful piece of the emotional puzzle.  Exercise isn’t a replacement for medication when that is needed, and I’ve relied on it before.  However, exercise is one of the most effective and proven ways at improving overall mood and stress levels there is.  Getting a good sweat also helps us sleep more soundly.  

It’s tempting to let workouts trail off around the holidays, but I say we fight for them.  Make it a daily routine, like brushing your teeth. We owe it to ourselves.  Procrastinate that leftover apple crumb cake; it will still be there on the other side.  

Avoid Numbing

I get it.  When depression sneaks in, we often lose desire for the things we typically love to do.  We want to isolate, sleep, numb.  It’s so much easier, right?  

Couple this with the fact that these coming months are like an open invitation to indulge whether that be with food, booze, online shopping, social media, you name it.  There may be a temporary relief to our pain. However, we're also numbing positive emotions as well.  Happiness, excitement, and gratitude are harder to come by, and we get thrown right back into the tangled thicket of depression once again.

Support

So rather than numb, reach out.  This time of year can indeed be a wonderful time of year when we reach out for the support we need.  Identify “safe people” who know and accept you where you are.  Make a list of two or three and reach out to them and let them know your struggle with SAD.  

If you don’t have said 2-3 people, a good place to start is therapy.  I can count several times I relied heavily on my therapist for support during these crucial months when all of the “stuff” listed above seemed impossible.  There is absolutely no shame in seeking professional help.  It is a courageous act of self-compassion.  

---

I’m here for you on this journey.  Again, you’re not alone.  This is all part of learning to trust the process, even when hope feels distant and the light grows dim.  

There is a bold light within you; this may be the perfect opportunity to find its glow.  

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

xoxo

Self-Esteem vs. Self-Compassion

I’ve had it all wrong for a long time now.  I’ve thought somehow if I could just do self-help perfectly, I’d be well on my way to confidence and a sense of personal freedom.  If I could just will myself into the knowledge and experience of self-love and acceptance, we’d be good.

After all, I’ve used perfectionism to my advantage all these years, why stop now?  Why not just transfer that zipped up effort to my desperate longing to truly know and love myself?  If I could just sit in front of the mirror each and every day and say nice things about myself, or take hundreds of bubble baths, or perhaps read the right self-help books…or blogs, I’d be healed.  Or better yet, I could try and recall all those limiting beliefs I played over in my head, write them down, cross them out, and slap some lipstick on them.  You know the drill:

“I’m just too much to handle.  No one will love me just as I am.” 

Er…I mean:

“I’m the greatest thing since sliced (gluten-free) bread and have every reason to deserve love now.”

Sounds like an SNL sketch waiting to happen to me.  It also sounds reactionary and surface-level, not genuine and compassionate.  Quite honestly, this should be a relief for you and I.  We are not meant to be fixed; we are meant to be understood.

We cannot will ourselves into loving relationship with ourselves or anyone else for that matter because we are human beings, not human doings.  We are messy, complex, and perfectly imperfect.  Our souls call us to something deeper, bigger than mere performance.  

Enhancing our sense of value and worth solely from this angle is like pumping a poor chicken chock full of toxic hormones to go further at your local Kroger.  It may seem satisfying and full of culinary possibility in the minute, yet it probably has long-term health concerns.

Self-esteem is based on the way we view ourselves to the degree with which we like ourselves.  This sounds pretty important and inherently benign, right?  Sure, there’s nothing wrong with seeing ourselves in a good light, however, what happens when circumstances change and we fail to get that promotion, call back, date, or worse, push people away out of fear of rejection? 

The temporary illusion of self-esteem takes a hard and fast nosedive into a muddy puddle of shame.

Typically, if we depend on circumstances to prop up our self-worth, there’a steep, hard and unexpected fall coming just around the corner.  

Another shortcoming of self-esteem lies in the fact that it can feel self-indulgent and divisive in an effort to “one-up” those around us.  Looking back at our limiting belief turn-around, notice the correction. If I replace my limiting belief with a pep talk that tells me “I’m the greatest thing around,” I’m puffing up my ego (which operates from a place of fear instead of belonging) and pitting myself against the world in an effort to prove myself, not lovingly accept myself.  

So, what’s the solution?  If I can’t rely solely on self-esteem, what am I supposed to do?

Three years ago, I picked up a book called Self-Compassion, by Kristin Neff.  It has changed the way I relate to myself and others on every level.  It has also called me into this beautifully caring dialog with myself as opposed to the harsh, striving one that had been so loud and exhausting for decades.

What I’ve learned is that self-compassion looks vastly different than self-esteem.  It is not circumstantial; it is relational.  Self-compassion is based on the awareness that the human condition is frail at best, less than perfect all day long, and totally capable of resilience.  This new way forward is all about mindfully and compassionately relating to ourselves when we fall short or miss the mark just like we would a dear friend.

Self-compassion is cultivated like any relationship.  It fills in all the holes self-esteem leaves gaping.  By this I mean, when we don’t measure up or fail to live up to our expectation, self-esteem dips, inviting two extremes: negative self-talk or puffed up ego, (even…gasp…narcissism).

This is not the case with self-compassion.  It comes flooding in when our insecurities, flaws, and shortcomings stare us back in the mirror.  

Perhaps one of my favorite things about self-compassion is it binds us together in the reality of our human experience.  It doesn’t divide, puff up, or need to isolate.  It breeds vulnerability because we aren’t all out to prove our worth and successes; there is no need to when we embrace ourselves through the lens of “imperfect—still enough.”

Self-compassion says, “I see you are hurting. I understand where you are coming from, and I am here with you in the midst of it all. I’m not going anywhere.”  

Her voice is the strong and steady anchor in the midst of the storm.  

Her voice doesn’t wait on sunshine or rainbows to speak.  

Her voice gets louder and more frequent when we slow down to feel our feelings and touch our pain.  

Therein lies the beauty: It is only through our pain we ever experience deep and lasting joy.  

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

xoxo