Permission to Speak Freely

Dear Friend,

I hope this email finds you well.  With the hustle and bustle of the season, whatever shape this takes on in your world, all I could think about this week was gratitude for your presence here. 

I realize you may be traveling, or with family, or perhaps even taking on more work and commitments.  Schedules get thrown off and the faint whiff of structure and routine we may have acknowledged just got sucked right out the window.

I get it. I’m there too. So we’ll keep this one short.

Today I simply want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart.  Thank you for accompanying me on this journey deeper into desire, connection, and thriving.  I started this blog a little over two years ago not knowing anything about what a blog was or who the flip would even care to read it.  I really just wanted to voice some deep longings, observations, vulnerabilities, and proof that hope and healing are absolutely always within reach.  

I’ve shared parts of my story that have felt scary and dark.  I’ve been afraid that perhaps you would judge me or see me as unqualified and/or inadequate both as a therapist and a writer.  For all you enneagram nerds out there, I’ve carried the curse of the “four” that whispers the ever so sexy lie, “If they saw you and knew you for who you really are, they wouldn’t love you.” 

As my British friend Lynsey would say every time, “Bollucks!”

The funny thing is, the more I heard that lie, the more I knew what I had to do—lay it all out there, flawed, broken, and wildly imperfect. 

If this year has taught us anything, it has surely been the importance of using our voice even though there is great risk involved and no guarantee of being well-received or even heard for that matter.  

When we speak our truth, it sets a domino effect of courage in motion.

For me and so many, this is very much a journey of first finding our voice—finding our truth.

My prayer and desire is that our weekly conversations will serve as a safe space and subtle nudge for you to keep searching for and using that beautifully powerful voice of yours.  

You may think this is pointless or impossible.  I get it.  You’re busy, you’re taking care of other people, you’re covered up with responsibility, or maybe you’re simply too weary and broken to try.  

Keep searching.

You may fall prey to the lie you have nothing good to say and your story, your voice, doesn’t matter.

Keep speaking.

Along the way, someone may have even told you to stay small and keep very, very quiet.  

Louder. It’s in there, and it’s big.

Okay, so you’ve searched, found, and shared that wobbly, crackling first few words only to fall flat without a nod or reassuring smile to catch them on the other side.  No one cared.

Get back on the horse.  

Anything worth doing is worth doing poorly.  Anything worth saying bears repeating.  

You belong to you and your voice matters.  

You matter. 

Why?  Because you are here.  It is your birthright to have needs and desires and to voice those valuable messages to the world.  You’re worthy and you belong, just as you are.

The thing is, truth is born out of silence, stillness.  We must slow down enough to hear the soft, rolling nuances of our soul’s longing.  If this feels indulgent, then my gift to you this holiday season is a big fat permission slip to find the time you need to lean into that stillness and listen to the voice of desire longing to speak freely.  

What does she sound like?  What are her words?  What does she need?  

Oh I know she’s in there.  And she is lovely, indeed.

Thank you again.  We’ve journeyed through yet another amazing year and I’m so grateful you are here. Hold on tight for the next leg of the journey. It’s gonna be good.

Until then, have a peace & meaning-filled Holiday!

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

xoxo

Advent of the Soul: Get Ready for Your Brightest Year Yet

When you get to where you’re going, where will you be?  

I ask myself this question often as I easily confuse busyness with productivity.  I imagine you fall into the same trap as well.  Consider this, how many times a week do you ask someone how they’re doing and they respond with a slight sigh, eye roll, and an arsenal of reasons there’s just not enough time in the day.  “Life is just so busy these days!”  I’m definitely guilty of it.  I tend to wear exhaustion proudly like a badge of honor just so you don’t have any qualms or confusion in your mind about my level of productivity. 

I’m pretty sure shame is the culprit here. Last year, I read Shauna Niequist’s book, Present Over Perfect, and was rocked to the core by her level of honesty regarding her addiction to productivity and responsibility.  

She shares,

“We all have these complicated tangles of belief and identity and narrative, and one of the early stories I told about myself is that my ability to get it done is what kept me around.  I wasn’t beautiful, I didn’t have a special or delicate skill.  But I could get stuff done, and it seemed to me that ability was my entrance into the rooms into which I wanted to be invited.”  

In my case, I find myself hustling for acceptance by constantly going, achieving, producing.  It feels really good, until the payoff just isn’t enough anymore.

We all do this to some degree.  There is a lack of perceived deficiency as well as a need for acceptance, so we buy into narratives of belief about ourselves that were validated by someone important to us at some point along the way. Eventually, subconsciously, these beliefs build out a life blueprint of identity.  I believe discovering and aligning with our truest self is absolutely crucial in order to thrive and throw off the thin storylines we’ve bought into. They don’t hold up anymore.

We must take time and space to ask ourselves this vital question: Where am I going? 

There’s no better time than now to ask.  Stop addressing those Christmas cards, just for a minute. Chances are, if they’re getting a card, they also care about your overall well-being.  

According to the Western liturgical church calendar, the season of Advent is upon us.  I’m not concerned whether or not you consider yourself a religious person or church-goer, what I am interested in is your desire to stay grounded and committed to a vision for your life that’s evolving— flourishing. 

Advent simply means ‘coming'. It’s an anticipatory time of preparation for hopeful things yet seen.  In church tradition, this thing is the birth of Christ, a savior.  It includes all these beautiful, sacred practices enrolling candles, wreaths, songs, smells, and colors.  I often attend an Episcopal church that’s super liturgical and relic-heavy.  They do ritual really, really well and I absolutely love it, largely because I need all the reminders I can get. Rituals create infrastructure and order within to practice life-giving reminders.   

You and I have the opportunity to apply these same rituals this season to the interior spaces of our lives and daily experience.  I call it the Advent of the Soul.  That’s a really woo-woo way of describing our own sacred processional of time and space leading up to the birth of unique dreams and desires for the coming year. The community we want to build, the business we want to start, the relationships we want to attract, the cities we want to explore, the joy we long to cultivate, and on and on. 

The cool thing about this process is just how much power unlocks as we tap into it and access its truth.  Other bonuses include: you don’t have to dress up, leave the house, or fight the cold of Sunday morning.  Traffic’s never an issue, oh, and the doors are always flung wide open, ready to welcome you in.  

This advent takes place in the most exquisite cathedral—your very own heart and it’s offered all day and every day, wherever you are.  Disclaimer: this largely depends on our decision to stay present and awake instead of checked out with Netflix, a vat of Chex Mix, and a tumbler of Chardonnay.  

Rituals are meant to ground us, and that’s exactly what I need this time of year: a strong tethering to hope and a steady guide into truth.  This ritual of advent locks into my favorite daily practice: writing.  Don’t worry; I’m not heaving more homework on your already crazy schedules.  This will only take ten minutes, (of course more if you’ve got it!) 

Answer these three questions:

1) What have you gained in 2017?  

2) What is your word?  

Pick one word that is meaningful and representative of this new season and write it down.  Take a minute to unpack the story behind that word.  For example, I spoke with a man the other day who described this heaviness he’d carried the past several months due to lots of family drama.  He desperately wanted to put that unnecessary extra baggage down and decided  “Levity” was his word for 2018.    

3) What narrative or belief are you willing to let go of that’s holding you back?

Write that sucker down and see what comes up.  Try not to judge it, just notice what’s there.  

Now commit to these truths, over and over and over again.  This is the stuff of that magical, sacred journey called rebirth— the Advent of our soul.  You will forget, stumble, and fall into those dusty dark corners of old familiar voices time and time again.  That’s not the point.  The point is you keep daring, keep reaching, keep walking, one foot in front of the other, into what will come.  It’s a courageous path to forge, and most settle for a lesser resistance.  

You, my dear, are not most.  

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

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

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.  

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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