Fully Starving

Stop. Breathe.

It all feels so real. The carefully procured creation in front of me. So real and yet so far. It reveals everything but it reveals nothing.

I know about you, but I don’t really know you.

Lost Together

I love teenagers.

I mean, don't get me wrong. They can be a terrific pain in the ass. But I still love them.

They have this way about them. Everything matters so much. They take life and its meaning seriously and they ponder their place among the world with such deep focus.

Zero Dollars- Failed Guru

Hey. I'm glad you're here. I need to tell you something scandalous. Something that you rarely hear. Something that no one bothers to mention.

Are you ready?
Here it is:
Chances are, you're doing okay at this life.
(I mean, maybe you won't win any awards any time soon. But, you're most likely doing more good than bad, and more right than wrong.)

And I wanted to tell you that because (I don't know if you've noticed?) that doesn't get said a lot.

It's Too Late

You're already worthy.

When we operate from a place of total and complete comfort in our self-worth- the knowledge that there is nothing we have to do to earn it. It changes everything.

Suddenly you can drop the hustle. You know the one. The way you work so hard for your value. The way you BURN and STRIVE so that others will call you "good-enough".

When you *know*- there is no striving, there is no burning, there is only "good-enough" already... you can exhale. Perhaps for the first time.

So many people fear this space. They think it will look like mediocrity or underachievement. But oh, I guarantee you it is just the opposite! When we can get a handle on how exquisite and worthy we truly are, when we can drop the hustle, when we can exhale, we can actually BE all that we are meant to offer.

Like the most beautiful sunset you have ever seen, generously casting warmth and beauty, when we are seated in our own space of "worthy" we can finally BE worthy. Our glow isn't for anyone else's applause. Our glow simply IS.

You are already worthy. 

The Tree

I am in a love affair. Outside my window is the most beautiful tree in the world. You might not believe me, so let me offer photographic evidence collected over time.

I like to think of my office as the Tree House- I think you can see why. The point is, this is serious love. 

Ode to Tree or something like that.

Trees have played an important role at different points in my life. So... let me just play it fast and loose and say: I love trees. 

Fast forward: I have been licensed a few years but I am brand new at supervising counseling interns. I am very young (as opposed to now, when I am full of wisdom). Younger than most of the people I am supervising. Suddenly, my mentor and dear friend is seriously injured. And, of course, I do everything I can to help in his recovery. In part, this means I am "him" for a month- filling in his very big shoes.

Here's the problem though. I am so not him. He's the kind of mentor everyone wants. In my book, he's kind of a big deal. He's the sort of person who makes you feel safe, and seen, and valuable and competent all at the same time. The sort of person that you want to be around. The sort of person you feel lucky to be around. Combine that with decades of experience as a therapist. He is a valuable well of knowledge and experience in a package of infectious warmth. And guess what? I'm not him.

I'm sooooo not him.

Not even close.

So... it is the holidays. I am a mom and business owner. I am worried about my dear friend and mentor. And I am trying to be him. Sort of. In that, I am trying to be him and failing miserably at it. Because, well, none of us do that very well.

And everywhere I go in his place, there is a new group of people that is so very worried about this man they love. They are desperate for updates and for reassurance. Reassurance I cannot honestly give them in the early weeks. And they are so painfully aware I am not him. 

And I just keep thinking, really Lord?

And I let myself get caught up. Caught up in the worry. Caught up in my feelings of inadequacy. Becoming very internally aware of all the ways I fall short. The experience I am missing. The wisdom. The sort of benevolent-comfort vibe that I wish I had.

I don't do zen very naturally.

I know, hide your shock.

And I enter this store at the exact right moment. And my eyes fall on this necklace. 

And in that moment all the trees I have loved flood into my mind. I stare at this necklace and I realize what I need to do. I make myself a promise: I will stop being a poor version of someone else. Instead, I will be the best version of me.

And honestly, I don't even know what that looks like in that moment. I don't have some great insight here. It's completely unclear and I don't know how I'm going to get there. But I know in my gut, this is a promise I must find a way to keep.

And I guess I'm sharing this for two reasons. One, because I am obsessed with my tree in the way a proud pet owner must talk about their pet (and share pictures). And so I will take any opportunity to talk about it. Two, because I wonder if you might be experiencing this too? Is there somewhere in your life that you are trying your very best- to be a poor version of someone else? What might happen if you let that go? You're not succeeding at it anyway. You can't be. What if you made a brazen promise to yourself- to be your best self... and no one else?

Tree-hugging,

The Blame Game

How I wished I looked when at home

Okay, I'm gonna give you a glimpse into my personal life and sell out my husband at the same time (sorry hon!) But what else would you expect from me by now?

About how old I feel when handling poop.

Here's a day in the life of this (part-time) stay-at-home-parent: After a busy weekend, our house is in chaos.  My attempts to cook lunch or dinner are thwarted by the semi-full dishwasher and overflowing sink. My toddler's poop-splosion (yes, it's a word!) in his "big boy pants"  means that I rush with a dripping bomb of clothing to the utility sink (full of other stuff) and then to the washing machine (full of musty-smelling damp clothes). My attempts to throw away the clutter are met with frustration when I find out that there is no garbage can liner... again....

Now, these little irritations are not a big deal by themselves. But when you're exhausted, overwhelmed and alone with a toddler on a messy Monday... and *ahem* some of these events *may or may not* be the fault of an absent member of your household who is now at a beautiful sparkling office which is quiet and poop-splosion free? Well, let's just say my attitude and I had to have a little talk. You pickin' up what I'm puttin' down?

Dramatization of "the text"

I could turn into that wife who greets her hubby with steam coming out of her ears (yup, I've been her before). I could turn into that wife who does the clean up but plays dramatic violin music in her head as she imagines the closeup video shot of her martyrdom (maybe I've known her too). Or.... I could *gulp* skip the blame and ask for help.

Because the truth is, I hadn't been on top of my game all weekend either (its been known to happen!) And I'm perfectly capable of lending a hand with any of those issues above. And somehow, when I have a bad day and I'm not very productive... I look for compassion from my husband; yet when he's off his game- he needs to pay.  And that's not a very happy way to go through a marriage.

My valiant hubby...

So I skipped the blaming text (oh, you know the one!) and went straight for the SOS text- "I need helllllllp!"

And guess what I got? We skipped the fight and got straight to the fixing. Within a short time of my darling hubby's return home- I got a sympathetic hug and all the help I needed.

 Which made me think: I could have pitched a fit (and would have felt oh so justified) but then my overwhelmed and stressed-out self would have also had a fight to fix too. Or, I could make the revolutionary choice to skip the blame and ask for help. Which meant I got what I really needed.

Wow, I learned something new yesterday. :) Just thought I'd share!

pssst- Sorry it's been a while. I've been doing some writing for others, including MacaroniKid

Just Give Up Already!

We all have it: The Boiling Point.


It might not even make sense when it occurs. It could be a long time coming (stresses building up), or it could be seemingly out of nowhere. But when it hits: you know! Suddenly you become some weird, incomprehensible, lunatic version of yourself. This would be where a cartoonist would draw steam coming out of your ears, and googly eyes. Hubby and kids look out! *


You keep trying to keep it together. These Boiling Points usually come at the absolute worst times. You have a big event, an important meeting, a sick child... you get the point. Not now, you're thinking. Just hold off a little longer. I have X,Y, and Z to get done before I can really lose it.


But guess what? The Boiling Point doesn't care. The time is NOW and the place is HERE. 
I like to imagine the Boiling Point looks like this:

What's a smooth-sophisticated-adult like you to do? 


Give up.


Yup, that's right. Give up. 


If only for a moment, let go of any expectation, any work load, and accept defeat.  This will look different for all of you. For some, it's a longer lunch break while you hide in your office. For others, its a road trip. Or maybe you need to go a little nuts and just laugh hysterically. For you mommies, it might mean popping in that video** while you suck your thumb and rock in your bedroom repeating affirmations.


It might mean confessing your Boiling Point to another. It might mean having to ask for help. But I can guarantee you this- a Boiling Point is a gift. (Yes, really!) It is your inner-alarm system. It is telling you to do just that: "give up!" Its like your internal brain is saying, "Uh, hello? You really can't take it anymore. I'm going to short circuit until I incapacitate you to the point that you have no choice but to let go. Don't try to fight me. I'll make you look like an idiot."
(Which is really quite sophisticated language for that guy)


You see, the Boiling Point is here with a message. The message that you are overloaded and need a (brief) mental collapse. That might sound like a raw deal, but it's my personal opinion that the brief mental collapse prevents the major ones. So see, it really is a gift!


Next time, try giving up. It will be the best thing you can do- nothing at all!

Wishing you would just GIVE UP already,






*Please note: this is all hypothetical as I have never experienced any said unrefined melt-down. I've just heard of them.
** You know it, it's the one that makes you crazy and you never want to see again. But it somehow manages to enchant the ankle-biters.

You Are What You Marinate In

Let's pretend I am a normal person and not a "therapist" for a moment. It will make this easier to admit.

There are days I think angry or unkind thoughts about my husband.

It usually happens when I'm feeling overwhelmed at the sheer enormity of the task before me... and then I trip over something he (unknowingly) left in my path. He doesn't even have to be there, but in that moment, the emotional force of all of my frustration finds a bulls-eye! I go from stressed-out mommy to "innocent and unappreciated" martyr in the span of 5 seconds.


It's not pretty. In fact, it's entirely petty and childish and mean-spirited. I guess I should be thankful it all happened in my head, huh?

Oh yes, you know "the look"

But here's the thing: regardless of whether or not anyone knows the depths of my thoughts, they will still change how I feel and interact with my husband later that day. I might be completely "over" the latest annoyance... and yet as soon as he walks in the door and does *that thing that makes me crazy*, I'm a lot less likely to chalk it up to a cute character quirk.

I like to make up terms. In this case, I call it a "Love Buffer". You see, when I spend all day marinating in angry, resentful, hateful thoughts... it depletes my love buffer. Suddenly my capacity for patience and understanding is drained. Things that might have been a "2" on a 10-point scale are now an "8". Suddenly, I'm fighting over something that doesn't truly matter to me. And the craziest part is... I might not even realize that my current fight is being influenced by my earlier private martyrdom.

But I've come to realize: I am what I marinate in.
-when I marinate in resentment all day, I eventually become resentful.
-when I marinate in hateful thoughts all day, I eventually become hateful.
-when I marinate in bitter musings all day, I eventually become bitter.

So does this mean I ought to suppress any momentary irritation with my spouse? Pretend he's perfect in my mind and expect that to solve everything? Hardly! But it does mean that once I've communicated my frustration to him, and we've worked it out, it's my job to make sure I'm redepositing back into my Love Buffer.

How? I marinate in the good with as much relish as I did the bad. By searching my memory banks for the recent kind and considerate things he did. By making mental lists of 3 things I truly love about him. By re-playing special moments in my mind: our first kiss, our wedding day, the birth of our son.

In other words, by doing what newlyweds do naturally: marinating in the love so that I have enough buffer to endure the bad. Because after all, I am what I marinate in.

Wishing you a squishy marinade full of love,

When I Need To Kick A Little Butt

I have a good luck charm.

Okay, don't laugh at me. I realize that this might sound ridiculous. And for the record... I don't really believe it brings me good luck in the traditional sense. But this one article is my "go-to" whenever I need to remember that I'm a part of something bigger than myself. Whenever I need to remember that I have a cheering section behind me. Whenever I need a little extra feisty edge.

Are you ready? Here it is:

 

In case you can't see it (let's face it, my photography isn't particularly stunning). Its a small gold necklace with the letter "M" in fancy script on the front. The "M" stands for Marie: my grandmother's name, my great-grandmother's name, and my middle name. This necklace has been around for at least 100 years, and I get to have it for no good reason- except the name I was given at birth. How cool for me? (Sorry, Sis!)

My grandmother who wore this necklace was a feisty wartime bride who lived out most of her young motherhood in foreign countries where she didn't speak the language or know a soul. And she did it while never forgetting her lipstick or her pearls I'm certain. Now, don't go feeling sorry for her. She wouldn't appreciate it. Marie was a strong individual (who was an acquired taste) that would judge our presidents by their first lady (I like to think of it as feminist of her).

She once walked up to a stranger with a Washington DC license plate which read: "Taxation Without Representation" and said to him: "I don't think you all should have the vote. You have the nicest and cleanest streets already."

I mean really, what do you say to that?

She believed children were to be seen and not heard (that included her own grandchildren). And she also wore Estee Lauder faithfully every day of her life. When she died, there were TUBS of the stuff in her refrigerator. Why she bought in such bulk, I don't know. But that was her in an nutshell: expensive face cream bought in bulk, gold jewelry and fancy hair with a simple button-down collared shirt. She was quite a lady.

And so, when I need to remember that her blood runs through my veins, I wear this necklace. (Oh okay, and sometimes I wear it because it matches my outfit.) But I always think about her when I put it on: my namesake.

And mostly what I contemplate (for half a second while getting ready, because, really: moms don't have a lot of prettifying time) is that part of growing up is looking at your ancestry with all their flaws. Really knowing their warts and seeing them for what they are... and then loving the good of them, and honoring it in yourself.

And then I stop being so deep, and look at the clock, and realize I'm running late for the office again.

Wishing you roots that run deep,

Krysta

What If We're Just Okay?

I may have written on this before. If so, I don't want to know. Let's just pretend this is a unique and original though, okay?

Today it strikes me particularly hard, this idea of self-concept.

If a child is told they are naughty, mean and bad all their life- how will that child will behave? Of course: the child will act like they are naughty, mean and bad. S/he will live and choose things that back-up that idea.

This make so much sense to us when we look at children, but we  often forget this about ourselves. In our heads we run scripts of negative, harsh, no-good, very-bad thoughts all day long. We see all the things we do not do well enough. All the ways in which we cannot measure up. We run lists of things unaccomplished, things left undone. We constantly tell ourselves that we are not doing enough.

And then we expect performance from ourselves. We expect happiness, and success. We expect accomplishment.

How does this make sense?

If we spoke to a child the way we speak to ourselves, and then demanded achievement... everyone around would easily see and realize the error. Who is going to achieve anything, when all they hear is how they are nothing? Yet we do it to ourselves all day long, and no one speaks up for us....

So I'd like to propose something: What if we started telling ourselves good things? What if we are already good enough? Smart enough? Kind enough?*


Oh, I know what you're thinking. That negative self-talker is very crafty! The self-talker says: "But I don't ever want to feel I've accomplished everything, or I'll stop growing!" Yup, like I said: its crafty.


To which I say: "Crafty self-talker, look at the kids. Do we wait until they are Picasso before we praise their effort on their drawing? Do we wait until they are a professional athlete before we encourage them for giving their all in a game? Do we wait until they have graduated college before we ever congratulate them for an 'A' on a test? Of course not! That would be silly, and counter-productive. The child will give up long before making those lofty goals, if all they hear is criticism. YOU ARE THE SAME WAY."

Are you hearing me yet? Is your self-talker finally getting it? If we wait until we are perfect, we will never be kind to ourselves. And really, what a tragedy.


So I propose the radical concept: You are ENOUGH. Today. For this moment. Enough.... now breathe.

I really think you're enough,





*Okay, so I realize this is a good spot for a Stuart Smalley impression. But really, I'm not going for it. It just happens sometimes when I get on a roll. ;)

Confessions of a Therapist

I'm gonna level with you: today wasn't great.

I adore my job, and everything that goes with it. The chance to help people make real, meaningful change in their lives really gets me excited. The chance to offer support, encouragement, a listening ear, a sounding board, a solution, a safe place.... how could life get much better?

But some days the losses outnumber the wins.

Some days people get in their own way. Some days people don't want what I'm offering. Some days I mess up and get in my own way.... Yikes.... I hate those days the most.

I'm not supposed to have flaws, right? I am the paid expert in the room. The expert at "life, relationships and happiness", right? So what does it mean when I am the one who messes up?

I have no idea. But I hope it means I'm real. I hope it means I'm reachable. I hope it means I can relate to the one crying on the couch, because I have been that one crying on the couch. I hope it means I never begin to think I am infallible. I hope it means I remain genuine, humble and graceful.... and deep down- I hope those things count for more than perfection in my clients' eyes.

Here's hoping for a better day tomorrow,
Krysta