8 clearing rituals to keep your giving tank full.
Like most other empaths and HSPs, I’ve spent my whole life caring for others.
I’ve also spent my life fighting fatigue and depletion, desperate for ways to replenish my physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual energy.
I’m the oldest of four siblings and the first of 13 grandchildren. Being the oldest meant I was the go-to family and neighborhood babysitter, advice-giver, and mother hen of my friend’s circle in my early and late teens and nurturer and caretaker to everyone that crossed my path.
3 ways I serve my anxiety that have saved my fearful ass — every time.
I thank my lucky stars I was born an anxious, colicky mess.
No really, I do.
If you think I’m crazy for loving my anxiety, then stop reading.
No, I mean it. Stop.
If you’re cursing your own anxious nature with made-up profanities, because the regular, run-of-the-mill curse words are used up, then read on. I got you.
5 reasons houseplants can improve your life.
“When I get older, I want a jungle in my house, mom, just like we have.” These are the sing-song words of my eight-year-old this morning as I happily spritzed the twenty-some plants that sit in our living room bay window.
“We don’t have enough of a jungle yet, kiddo,” I said, admiring the fern and spider plants that doubled in size while sitting proudly on the porch all summer.
“It makes me so happy that our plants loved being outside so much this summer,” my 8-year-old said with serious glee.
4 uncomfortably comfortable truths of highly sensitive people.
I think I became highly sensitive in my mother’s womb.
She was loud and impulsive and very uncomfortable in her own skin. She was one of those sensitive people that pretend they can handle anything. She put on a tough girl suit whenever she showed her face in public — but in those quiet moments, she was a frightened little girl hiding behind the living room chair. Being in the womb, I sensed all that — and more. As a fetus, I learned this world was an overwhelming, sometimes frightening place.
According to Dr. Elaine Aron’s research, Highly Sensitive People (HSP’s), make up 20% of the population. When you’re highly sensitive, the world is often chaotic, a jumbled maze of noise. When 80% of that world operates on a different frequency, the world suddenly becomes as loud as a death metal concert to a newborn baby. If you’re not sure if you’re highly sensitive Dr. Aron has a quick and easy online test to determine if you’re an HSP.
When one love is enough.
It only takes one heart to love you.
Did you know that?
Yes, you who tosses and turns all night, hoping someone other than you would love you.
Did you know those endless, restless nights don’t have to continue?
I have a secret for you.
Are you willing to come close and lend me your ear? I’ll be quiet, I promise.
Your words have power. Choose them wisely.
Gaslighting, Codependency, and Narcissism ring a bell?How about these:
10 Ways to Tell if You’re Being Gaslighted.
What to Do if You’re Dating a Narcissist.
How to Break the Cycle of Codependency for Good.
These titles are similar to the uncountable articles I see on a weekly basis by writers who have no mental health training whatsoever. Many of these terms (aside from gaslighting, which I’ll talk about later) are used when a therapist is diagnosing a client or as a specific part of treatment (i.e. codependency is a commonly used term in addiction treatment). These are words that any good therapist would never casually drop to a client in a therapy session — unless it was part of the client’s everyday lingo or they had a therapeutic intent for doing so, like offering psychoeducation on what narcissism or codependency is as it relates to the client’s mental health. A therapist would also never (well, they should never) diagnose someone that is not their client (i.e. saying the client’s spouse sounds like a narcissist would be an absolute no, no!).
Do you live as if your life depends on it?
Just like you, I often wish there was a shortcut to living the good life; but alas, there’s not.
All this talk about mindfulness makes it sounds like it’s a new buzzword; a new chic meditation style that can bring us instant enlightenment.
I wish mindfulness was the easy path to inner bliss, but it isn’t.
If you’re discouraged about reading on, just hear me out — at least for another paragraph or two?
Screw a college degree. Find a kid who knows nothing but the moment and study them up.
The year that old dude (well, he was old to me) wrote that bestseller about learning all you needed to know in kindergarten, I was overstuffing my brain with college wisdom.
I rolled my eyes at Robert Fulgham’s simple truths while sacrificing many, many precious trees to fill notecard upon notecard with endless biology facts. I filled many paper cups with vending machine coffee while yawning my way through Dickens and Tolstoy. I turned a blind eye at free-spirited children’s laughter and squeals in the park I ran laps in until my legs gave out.
Somewhere along the line, I realized I had to love her.
For years I tried to heal her. But instead of healing her, I suppressed her. I choked her. I suffocated every last morsel of her darkness into a New Age love and the light-filled abyss.
I would write affirmations 50 and then 100 times over.
I love myself. I am worthy. I’m confident. I am valuable. I am enough.
Why my traumatic wake-up call was enough for us all.
A rude awakening taught me to savor everything. And I mean everything. It happened 19 years ago, leaving a watermark over my life. Leaving an imprint on my family. Branding my mind and heart with the words, BE HERE NOW.
I’m sharing this with you to save you some time, and maybe even some suffering.
Soul Writer. Single Mama. Life ponderer. Nature Lover. Therapist. Introvert. HSP & Empath. Life is my playground and each day a blank canvas.