Never too much, Always enough

As I sit here listening to the melodious rain, looking through my window and watching the rhythmic drops, I can’t help but think about the idea of always enough and never too much, and how in our times of dysregulation we can feel flooded.  Much like the rain, that California desperately needs for our infinite drought (suggesting that we don’t have enough), our structural systems say otherwise with statewide flooding (suggesting that we are getting too much). The torrential downpour has overwhelmed our cities over the last few weeks and caused a lot of issues, because we are being flooded. Our nervous systems work in a similar fashion. When we are in stressful, emotional and/or traumatic situations, or we have prolonged repeated exposure to negative or distressing stimulus, we can become flooded. Suddenly we begin to question ourselves. Are we enough? Are we good enough, strong enough, worthy enough? Can we be enough, do enough, accomplish enough? We might even feel like we are too much for certain people. Perhaps our internal dialogue is asking, am I too much? Am I too needy, do I require too much, am I asking too much? While we are each responsible for our self-regulation, we do need to look at some important factors when we notice that we are asking ourselves these questions:

1.   Are we exposing ourselves to toxic people and relationships? If so, are we doing this because we feel we must? You might feel like you can save the person (love them enough, be enough, do enough). You might feel like you can’t leave because you worry about them and their well-being and feel like you must stay in the relationship.

2.   Are we in a dysfunctional cycle? Is our body seeking a dysfunctional homeostasis because it’s our “normal?”

3.   Are we dependent on the feelings we get from the highs and lows? Is our body dependent on stress responses?

4.   Are we in distorted thinking patterns, like, all or nothing. Either I have this relationship (all) or I will be alone (nothing). We rationalize the all by saying it isn’t always bad, and we romanticize the good, even when the good is bare minimum.

5.   We grew up with these narratives. If we function best in an earning mentality, and we are constantly striving to please people, we might have learned that if we do enough, we are enough. But if we aren’t needed, then we are discarded, which validates our fear of not being enough or being too much maintenance in a relationship.

There are of course more things to consider and explore as we wrestle with this distortion. That being said, it is so important to remind yourself that in a healthy, loving, reciprocal relationship you will never be too much for someone. They will hold space for you, encourage you to seek and be your best self, and remind you of your worth. They will pursue the relationship as well and choose you. They will expect you to be accountable for your actions and behavior, just as they hold themselves accountable for theirs. Likewise, you will always be enough. You will not need to earn, do, or be anything but your authentic self. They will have a desire to connect in ways that are meaningful to you, because they see you do the same. They will remind you of your inherent worth and value and encourage you to see yourself for the amazing person you truly are. This is not to say that we ever have an “arrival point.” In a healthy, growth-oriented relationship, both people are self-aware, have good boundaries, and a desire to grow as individuals and with one another. If someone is behaving in a way that is not congruent to who they are, the other person will make an effort to have a loving and gentle conversation and encourage further insight and awareness. When we do this with good intent, it keeps the emotional dysregulation and flooding to a minimum and allows for healthy, problem-solving conversations and effective communication.

Many of us grew up with this fear. That we are too much work for someone, or not worth enough. We carry this deep within our hearts and struggle to let go, because it is also how we (often) see ourselves. When the checklist is complete, it feels good for a short while, and then, inevitably, there is always another checklist to feel whole. We do not have to live this way though. We can get to a place where we recognize our worth is inherent and our value is not determined on what we can do or do not do. In fact, our existence proves that we were chosen. We have a purpose, and there is a plan for our lives. Song of Songs 4:7 says, “You are altogether beautiful my darling, there is no flaw in you.” And Jeremiah 29:11 reminds us, “these are the plans I have for you declares the Lord, plans to prosper, and not harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future.” In Psalm 139 God reminds us that we are fearfully and wonderfully made, woven together with intention. One of the greatest lies of all time is the “enough” lie. The serpent whispered it to Eve in the beginning, and we still struggle with it now. “If God loved you enough, He wouldn’t withhold a good thing from you. He just doesn’t want you to be like Him.” And so he whispers in our ears, “it’s because you aren’t enough.” Or “it’s because you are too much.” But it was a lie then, and it’s a lie now, and once we recognize it, it has no power over us unless we give it power, we can step into our value and remind ourselves of truth. Whether you are a believer or not, if you have breath in your lungs, there is purpose for your life, and that isn’t to struggle with lies like these. It isn’t to live in a perpetually flooded or dysregulated state. On the contrary, God (that is my belief, but perhaps you believe in energy or the universe, or karma…) wants you to live life and live it in abundance. He wants you to know that you are worthy, amazing, and deeply loved for who you are and who you have yet to become.

When you sense this thought creeping in your mind, close your eyes and imagine yourself in the pouring rain. Washing you clean. Feel the water permeating your soul and open your eyes to watch the negative thoughts flow away from you with the water. You do not have to believe this distortion; it was never yours to begin with. Your thoughts become your beliefs, and it is important to be mindful of what you tell yourself regularly because you are paying attention. Remind yourself of your truth, your reasons, your beliefs. Remind yourself that regardless of what others may have said, or what you may have wrestled with in the past, you don’t have to bring it into the present.  Remind yourself, you are never too much and always enough.  

My Story of Pain and Purpose

I am complex.

We all are. We are all so much more than what others see. We are more than what others believe us to be. We are more than unmet expectations, boxes that have been constructed for us to fit into, and the disappointments others express in us.

We are also so much more than the good days. The perfect Instagram worthy posts. The pinterest projects and endless to-do lists that finally got done. We are more than sunshine and rainbows and the smiles plastered to our faces.

We are more than the fake and phony. We are more than the pretending and “I’m fine.” We are more than our illness and wellness. We are complex.

When I set out on this journey to share my story, I really did not think of the extent of what my story was. You see, I had been taught (somewhere along the way), that my story and my voice did not matter. It was not as important as someone else’s. The pain not as great as another’s. The trauma not as significant and therefore devalued; it means nothing if someone has it worse. But I want to change that narrative. I believe fully and wholly that transparency and vulnerability create meaningful connection. When we realize that we are not alone in our journeys, that people genuinely care and understand, we are able to move forward with hope.

I hope that in my sharing, you will find your light. You will believe that wellness is possible. Healing is possible. You are worth investing in and that people do genuinely care.

I was just a little girl, 4 years old when my Opi (German grandpa) passed away. I can still remember playing happy birthday for him on my portable keyboard. He was in his bed a lot at this time, but that didn’t matter, I loved him, and he loved me, and I just enjoyed his company. One day my parents sent me to stay with my cousin. I recall vividly them hurrying me into the car to get back to my house. I plead for them to tell me what was going on, but no one would. When we got back everyone was crying, and my Opi was gone. No one would tell me what was going on, but his bed was empty. That was when I first drew the conclusion that when I leave bad things happen. This thought process planted its faulty seed into my mind and sprouted years of agony and trying to be there for everyone and everything. But bad stuff inevitably happens. Shortly thereafter my parents decided to move to the United States. I was 6. I left behind my friends, family, pets, home, and belongings. I got on a plane and moved to California, we lived with my “American” grandparents. I did not speak or understand English, I was put into an ESL class (where everyone, including the teacher spoke Spanish), I had no friends, and I was the weird foreign kid. An immigrant. Throughout school I endured pretty severe bullying, from kids and teachers alike. I was locked into dark bathrooms, death threats were issued to me and my family if I ever told anyone, I was called a Nazi often. So, I became a chameleon. I learned how to fit and adapt. How to be liked and how to keep others happy. Once I had “friends” the bullying did not matter as much anymore. Some kids thought it was cool that I spoke a different language and that I was “different.” What I really wanted them to believe is that I was the same.

At home things were not much better. My parents worked a lot, they had to, and I respect how far they have come and the lives they have made for themselves. I endured a lot of verbal abuse from a relative. I was told I did not matter. That I would never have friends. I was too ugly. I was not worth life. I was told, as a young girl, that no one would ever want me. This person would purposely make fun of me when my friends were around, call me degrading names, tell me I should run away or die. What was meant to break me, only made me stronger. I realized this person was afraid of me. Afraid of my courage and strength, of my intelligence and resiliency. This person wanted to bring me down because they were unhappy; they projected themselves onto me. I watched as they continued to try to berate and belittle me, and I chose not to break. I chose not to let them see me cry. To say it didn’t hurt would be a lie, but when you are exposed to pain repeatedly, eventually you go numb. The numbness worked to my advantage though, it allowed me to live my life as the positive person that I knew I was. I have always loved people; loved helping and being there for others. No one was going to change that about me. I grew up around substance use and abuse as well, I learned that a lot of people self-medicate at an early age. I was a latch-key kid and always tried my hardest to help my parents in any way I could.

When I was younger, I didn’t know that I had anxiety. I would feel sick every day (somatic symptoms) and go to the nurse. I had trouble sleeping even when I was little and would experience night terrors and nightmares basically every night. I learned how to stay up all night reading with a flashlight because it was better than the night terrors. My intrusive thoughts sometimes got the best of me and they manifested in OCD tendencies and perfectionism. I pushed myself hard and was always in competition with someone (self-imposed) to keep myself at my best. I worried about literally everything. I worried about worry.

At the age of 11 another life-altering event happened. My Omi (German grandma) was visiting and staying with us. My brother was 2 at the time and napping in his room and I was helping my Omi with laundry while watching a show. She said she wasn’t feeling well, but didn’t want my mom to worry, said she would be fine. My mom left and went to work. My Omi went in her room to put away her clothes. When the show ended, I realized she still wasn’t back, and I went to check on her. That’s when I found her. She was on her floor in her bedroom. I panicked. I called my other grandma hysterically; I ran to my neighbors who called 911. But it was already too late. The fire department and ambulance seemed to take forever to get there, they wouldn’t let me go inside. My neighbor waited with me outside of my house. That day changed a lot for me. I lost a lot. And I realized that I would never be enough. When my Opi died, I drew the conclusion that bad things happened when I wasn’t there, so I was always there for people. But my Omi still died. I didn’t pay enough attention, I wasn’t fast enough, I didn’t respond well. The inner critic was right, that relative was right. I would never be good enough.

That didn’t stop me from trying harder though. I was in all honors classes. I took 7 periods most of my high school years. I was involved in extra-curricular activities and volunteered. If anyone needed anything, I was there. I was a people-pleaser. Very good givers attract the best takers, and I was okay with that. At least they thought I had something to give.  

High school was also the time I developed my truly unhealthy relationship with food. Growing up I was placed on a lot of diets. I think it was common then for moms to always be dieting because I remember all my friend’s moms always being on some sort of new diet-fad as well. But I decided that I could just not eat. So, I didn’t. For a long time. I lived on water and gum. Everyone thought I looked great; they complimented how disciplined I was (although they had no idea, I was not eating at all). I started to not feel my best, I was tired and light-headed a lot, I would get dizzy spells and just drink more water. My mom was doing my hair for a baby shower when I passed out and smashed head-first into the bathroom mirror. Thankfully, I wasn’t hurt. My parents had no idea what was going on. My dad got really upset and learning to eat again wasn’t easy. Yet again, I wasn’t enough. What I learned through this though was that, while I can’t control others and what happens, I can control what and how much I eat. I needed control of something, so this became my thing.

After high school I worked full-time, went to school full-time and tutored on the side. I always kept myself extremely busy; when I am busy, I don’t have time to think. I had learned how to “manage” my anxiety (which I still didn’t know I had) by distracting myself. Sure, there were days I wish that everything would just go away, or that life would end, but distraction was a good tool to keep my mind occupied.

Around this time someone very close to me tried to commit suicide as well. To say this was a shock is an understatement. Looking back, I see how alone this person felt and how the idea of not needing to be “in it all” anymore was appealing. I am so glad God had different plans though!

  In my early 20’s I met my husband and we had our son. We were relatively young parents and we didn’t have a lot, but we tried our best to do our best. My husband and I had to learn (over the years) how to break habits we didn’t even know we had. We had to learn how to communicate effectively and not recreate our families of origin. We struggled a lot, for quite some time. But we never gave up. When my son was 4, he and I were driving home and were hit by an intoxicated driver that was high and drunk. We had minimal physical wounds (praise God) but we both suffered extremely mentally and emotionally. My son ended up with a PTSD diagnosis, and this was what spiraled my anxiety. The accident allowed me to go back to school though and obtain my masters, and during that program I had my first public panic attack. It took therapy, medication, and a medical diagnosis to finally find reprieve. I had to battle a lot of negative thoughts, core beliefs and faulty thinking; I had to replace my distortions with healthy coping mechanisms and begin to see that not everything is my job. Therapy pushed me, a lot. Therapy taught me, a lot. Therapy helped save me.

I still struggle sometimes; I think we always will to some extent. This world is fallen and broken, and we desire perfection in an imperfect place. But now I have the tools to help me. I learned how to set healthy boundaries and let go of toxic people and relationships, or to minimize my exposure to ones I can’t end. I learned how to shift my focus and keep my eyes on Jesus; how to have grace, not only with others, but with myself. I learned how to advocate for myself and my needs, whether medically or relationally. I know now that when others project onto me, I do not have to accept it, and I can still pray for them and love them. I learned that my anxiety and panic lives with me. My body is its house and sometimes I forget it lives there, but other times I still struggle with sharing space. I learned that wellness is complex too, but it is SO worth investing in and fighting for. I learned that I can’t be enough, but I don’t have to be enough. I give myself permission to be fully me, and I will always do my best to love big and be there for others because that is who I am to my core, but I will no longer be a people-pleaser or welcome mat. I learned that we all have beliefs and ideas, we all have opinions and its okay to be different (even when others don’t want you to be). I learned that this world is perfectly imperfect and that I can lean into that because, so am I. I will never fit into someone else’s box, I will never be someone else’s ideal, I will never be anything but who I am. I can learn. I can grow. I can become a better version of myself, but I will never be perfect, and I have learned to be okay with that. Progress is greater than perfection.

This is a very condensed version of my story. There are specific details I left out and diagnoses that are not mine to share. I have walked through a lot in my life, and yet I know others have walked through more. The things I chose to leave out I did because I do not want to hurt others in sharing my story. I know we all have a version that is true to us. This is my story. It includes pain and illness, but more than that it includes hope and wellness. I may not have always known what I was up against, but if my story shows you anything, I hope it shows you how strong we are. How we learn to cope and adapt. How we can still unlearn negative behaviors and learn positive ones. I hope that my story shows you that we are all connected to each other. Pain and suffering are not discriminatory, they will choose anyone, at any time. But when I reflect back on all of this what I see most prevalent, is the purpose to my pain. My pain catapulted me into my purpose. It showed me that regardless of what we face in life we have choices. It showed me my own strength and ability to rise. It showed me that love always wins and that I have a heart that desires to make a difference.

My story matters.

YOUR story matters.

One day, when you are ready, you can tell your story too. I hope in doing so you can reflect on your story and see your strength and determination. Your heart and soul. That you can see you were worth investing in and fighting for all along. Our stories matter. Our voices matter. Your life matters, and you are never alone.

Parenting and Pandemics, Oh My.

It’s safe to say that the world we are living in now is very different from the world we knew, for many, even just a month ago. We have gone from over-crowded schedules to trying to figure out what to do with our time.

Our kids are no exception to this.

We have taught our children from early on to glorify busy. The more you do, the more that is on the calendar, the more you are involved in, the better life is. The truth is, many of us (myself included), often prayed for time. That time would slow down. That we would have more time with our children and family, that we would have more time to accomplish (fill in the blank).

Time is not our problem. What we find important is.

Our children are learning to navigate this in the same way you are, only they have a limited understanding of all that is taking place. If your home is anything like mine, we do not have cable, I do not watch the news (I check one news source daily online and limit my own exposure), and the only information the kids have is the information they overhear from us or that we share with them. But they are scared. They are worried. They are anxious. They are sad. They are dysregulated.

Their entire worlds have been flipped upside down and we are wondering why we see more behaviors, more acting out, more tantrums, more distancing or isolation… we question why they are responding this way, but are we taking the time to truly ask?

We are busy checking in with family, friends, neighbors… many of us even check in with community pages to see what needs we can help meet, but how many of us are checking in with our kids?

The reason I say time is not our problem is that we choose how to spend our time. Yes, schedules have changed. Our kids are not in school, many of us are home (more or all the time) and we are trying to fill our time. But what if we took that time and filled it with teaching our kids some healthy skills?

First: Connection. Do a daily check-in, ask the important questions. Teach them that they are allowed to have feelings and that their feelings matter. But also teach them that it isn’t okay to take your feelings out on others.

Implement a calm down area: put pillows, bean bags, blankets, sensory/fidget toys, play-doh, kinetic sand, stress balls, art supplies, books, journals, puzzles, pool noodles (to hit pillows/soft things when angry) and stuffed animals in the area. You can even put a “punching bag” or something it is okay to hit.

Your kids are ALLOWED to have emotions, and they will. They will have feelings. We all do. Feelings are normal. But you have a unique opportunity right now to teach them that feelings are not facts. That they can feel what they need to feel but they do not have to let those feelings control them. This is why the calm down area is great. You are teaching them self-regulation. It’s okay to be mad, frustrated, sad, lonely, anxious (etc), it is not okay to hit your sibling, yell at someone, throw something, lock yourself in a room (etc). When they are feeling overwhelmed, they can go to the calm down area (have a timer in there to help them with keeping time), and when they are ready, they can return to their normal activities.

Second: Affirmation(s). When you ask your children questions about how they are feeling, affirm their feelings. Remind them that its normal to be feeling a lot of different things right now and that they are not alone. Explain that feelings are not facts and sometimes our feelings lie to us, they tell us things like “Nothing will ever get better,” but we know that is a distortion (thinking in absolutes (all or nothing thinking). Remind them that it can feel that way, but we know that eventually things will change, and things will get better.

Five questions to ask:

1.      How can I help you?

2.      What do you need?

3.      What would make you feel better?

4.      Are you hungry, tired or bored?

5.      Have you been creative, active, and helpful? And have you had any quiet time to rest your body and mind?

These questions require them to think, process and give answers that provide insight into their emotions. If they respond, “I don’t know…” you can always follow up with, “That sounds really frustrating, can I help you figure it out, or would you like some time to think about it?”

Third: Resolution(s). No one likes feeling dysregulated, especially children. They often become frustrated because they don’t have the words to explain how they are feeling. Or they are afraid that it will upset you when they tell you how they are feeling.

Offer 5 minutes of unfiltered talk time. During this time, you cannot judge, criticize, comment or  offer feedback. They get to say whatever they need to say without consequence(s). At first this will feel odd, but it will open up healthy lines of communication and allow your children a safe space to be heard and understood. When the time is up you can follow up with, “Thank you for sharing all of that. Is there anything I can help you with that you would like to talk about more?” This way you are not only modeling active listening skills, but you are also providing them with the ability to ask for help when needed or to be autonomous and figure their own solutions.

Fourth: Empathy. Modeling empathy for our children looks like us leaning into the difficult conversations or utilizing our playtime to engage them to express their feelings.

Puppets, stuffed animals or dolls are great for role play, and when utilized often do not face the same barriers a face-to-face conversation would. When children are playing it is much easier for them to portray how they are feeling. If your children are too old for this type of play, you can always ask them to play their new favorite song for you or write a short story/poem or comic strip about a character who is going through pandemic life. It will give you great insight and allow you to connect with them on an entirely new level.

Once you are aware of how they are feeling, help them understand that these feelings are normal. You can share how you are feeling too, just make sure to convey that this is about them. “I am so sorry that you are going through this. I imagine this must be very scary for you. I am here if you want to talk more about it. I don’t know exactly how you are feeling, but there are times (insert role) mommy is scared too, so I know it is not fun to feel this way. I am always here if I can help in any way. Do you want to talk about some of the things that scare you?”

Remember, empathy is about connection and understanding someone’s feelings. It is not about feeling sorry for that person, or even knowing exactly how they feel. It is you trying to put yourself into their shoes. As adults, we don’t know exactly how they are feeling. This is the first time in my life that I have ever experienced anything like this, and I am an adult. I imagine this must be very scary and frustrating to our youth, especially all of those who are missing major life events because of it.

At the end of the day, the best thing we can do for our kids is show them that we CARE (connection, affirmation, resolution and empathy). It is not about having all the tools and techniques, though they are helpful. It is not about having all the answers, because no one does. It is about caring for them and how they are feeling. Showing them that we are there for them and allowing them space to feel and process. Our kids see how we are responding to all of this and they learn through modeled behavior. When you are taking care of yourself and them, they will see its okay to feel their feelings, but that their feelings to not need to dictate how they live.