Happy And Healthy Lifestyle

“As traumatized children, we always dreamed that someone would come and save us. We never dreamed that it would, in fact, be ourselves as adults.” ~Alice Little Like most people, I used to run away from my pain. I did it in lots of different and creative ways. I would starve myself and only focus on what I could and couldn’t eat based on calories. I would make bad choices for myself and then struggle with the consequences, not realizing that I had made any choice at all. It all just seemed like bad luck. Really bad luck. Or I would stay in unhealthy relationships of any kind and endure the stress that was causing. Again, I didn’t see what I was contributing or how I was not only keeping my pain going but actually adding to it. These are just a few examples of the many ways I ran away from my pain. The real pain. The one below it all. The one that started it all. The core wound. The wound of unworthiness and unlovability. The wound that stems from my childhood. And my parents

“Stop thinking in terms of limitations and start thinking in terms of possibilities.” ~Terry Josephson  I was affected by the deadly poliovirus when I was six months old. Most people infected with it die. Even today, there is no cure for it. I miraculously survived, but lost my ability to walk. During the first twenty years of my life, I evolved through crawling on the floor, lifting my leg with my hands, wearing prosthetics, using canes, and finally learning to walk, painfully, with crutches. As I grew up, I experienced post-polio syndrome, which weakened the other parts of my body. Some forty-five years ago, there were no educational or medical facilities in the remote area of India where I lived. That slimmed my chances of getting any education. When I reached the age to go to school, the only way possible was to wear prosthetic braces weighing forty-five pounds on my leg, which was more than my weight. It was incredibly painful to walk while wearing them. In those braces, I cou

“I can’t believe what I’m managing to get through.” ~Frank Bruni My worst fear was inflicted upon me three months ago: a cancer diagnosis—non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.  Out of nowhere! Truth be told though, lots of awful things that happen to us come suddenly out of nowhere—a car accident, suicide , heart attack, and yes, a diagnostic finding. We’re stopped in our tracks, seemingly paralyzed as we go into shock and dissociative mode. My world as I knew it stopped. It became enclosed in the universe of illness—tiny and limited. I became one-dimensional—a sick patient. And I went into shock. To the point where I didn’t feel. As a person who values mental health and understands the importance of emotions, I seemingly stayed away from the feeling part. It wasn’t intentional; it’s how I coped. I dealt by mindlessly and mindfully (yes, that seems like an oxymoron) putting one foot in front of the other and doing what needed to be done, like a good soldier, plowing through the open minefields

“Refuse to inherit dysfunction. Learn new ways of living instead of repeating what you lived through.” ~Thema Davis For anybody that experienced a chaotic childhood, stability in adulthood is unfamiliar territory. When you grow up in an environment where shouting is the norm, unstable relationships are all you observe, and moods are determined by others in your household, it’s hard to ever feel relaxed. As an adult dealing with the long-term effects of childhood instability and chaos, I jump at the slightest sound now. And I know I’m not alone when I say instability is all I have experienced. I recall one recent occasion when my flatmate asked jokingly, “What’s wrong with you? I live with you!” as she came out of her bedroom and I was startled again. Stability, peace , and quiet are all unfamiliar to me. When chaos really is all you know, all that you are familiar with, stability is actually unsettling. Sabotaging Stability Stability can feel so unsettling to me that I’ll un

“Some people could be given an entire field of roses and only see the thorns in it. Others could be given a single weed and only see the wildflower in it. Perception is a key component to gratitude. And gratitude a key component to joy.” ~Amy Weatherly I grew up in a deeply negative environment. My parents separated acrimoniously when I was seven, and they were a grim example of how not to do divorce . They brought out the worst in each other, and sadly, over time, they also brought out the worst in me. I was depressed as a teen, and had been conditioned to believe that my problems were an unfortunate family trait—one that I had simply to accept and live with. And I did, for many years. But of course, I was not happy. And yet I didn’t know enough about the world to understand that my environment and upbringing were very largely to blame. I now know that while genetics can account for up to around 40 percent of the happiness we experience, the rest is within our control. I’m aware

“Sobriety was the greatest gift I ever gave myself.” ~Rob Lowe I tried and failed to have a fabulous relationship with alcohol for many years. When my children were tiny I drank far more than was good for me, thinking I was relaxing, unwinding, socializing, and having fun. I’d seen my life shrink down from a world with lots of freedom and vibrancy to a socially restricted void, and I wanted to feel normal. I wanted to join in with everyone else. All my birthday cards had bottles of gin or glasses of fizz on them, all the Friday afternoon memes on social media were about “wine o’clock,” and I wanted to be part of that world. The opening of a bottle in the evening had me thinking I was changing gear, moving from stressed to relaxed and treating myself to some self-care. Nothing could have been further from the truth; the alcohol made me wake during the night and gave me low-level anxiety and an almost permanent brain fog. I’m not proud of the drinking I did when the kids were smal

“When another person makes you suffer, it is because he suffers deeply within himself, and his suffering is spilling over. He does not need punishment; he needs help. That’s the message he is sending.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh When I was fifteen years old, my dad abandoned my mother, younger sister, and me after a bankruptcy. My mother sat me down at the kitchen table to show me our financial situation scribbled on a yellow legal pad. Dad left us with six months of unpaid rent. The landlord threatened us with eviction until mom made a deal to pay extra rent every month to pay off the balance. He agreed to let us live there under those terms. Dad’s abandonment included disappearing with everything we had of any value. He took our music, art, records—everything that made the place a home. He even took the blender. My mother’s secretarial job covered our housing, car payment, and other bills, but we would run out of money the last week of the month. I would need to find a way to make up the

“Whatever you’re feeling, it will eventually pass.”  ~ Lori Deschene Can you feel an intense emotion, like anger, without acting on it, reacting to it, or trying to get rid of it? Can you feel such an intense emotion without needing to justify or explain it—or needing to find someone or something to blame it on? After successfully dodging it for two years, I recently caught Covid-19. The physical symptoms were utter misery. But something much more interesting happened while I was unwell. The whole experience brought some intense emotions to the surface. Namely seething anger about something that had nothing to do with the virus. In the handful of days that my symptoms were at their worst, I was absolutely livid. And while on some level it made sense that I was angry that getting this sick was both extremely unpleasant and delaying work on a project I was all fired up about, the anger was manifesting with a deeper-rooted blame. I grew up in a religious denomination that had a pr