Suffering and Uncertainty

Susan David was just interviewed on The Armchair Experts podcast and she said, “The greatest gift we can give our children is to help them navigate their feelings around uncertainty”.

I think this is a bigger, more important concept to grasp and teach than what first meets the eye. Yeah, yeah, of course we will teach our kids to try to control their feelings, reign in their feelings, stuff or even deny their feelings…but have we taught them to actually n a v i g a t e their feelings around the district feeling of uncertainty? Do YOU know how to navigate uncertainty in your own life?

If the year 2020 has taught the masses anything, it’s that life is uncertain and uncontrollable and being both flexible and comfortable sitting in uncertain circumstances might just be the two most important muscles we need to simultaneously grow in both ourselves and our children.

When we navigate, we plan and direct (usually using some kind of a map) with particular care knowing the path will be difficult. When we don’t navigate, we neglect; we get lost, and we can forget that uncertainty doesn’t have to be scary.

Maybe (probably) we also need to teach ourselves and our kids (especially) that, “The more we try to control what is uncontrollable, the more we increase our suffering”. (Susan David)

We Americans might possibly be the worst at this. We, as a nation, don’t like to suffer and we also like to believe that we won’t suffer if we do “all the things” (fill in your own answer here – be responsible, go to church and tithe, follow the rules, spread positivity, etc.). We’ve got to be able to flip that on it’s head and help our kids understand that life is full of suffering and no one is immune.

Embracing suffering doesn’t mean we love it or invite it into our lives. Embracing suffering means we can sit in our pain and accept it for what it is…a real feeling that isn’t to be feared, but felt. If we raise our kids in a bubble that keeps them from experiencing any kind of suffering, or we try to gloss over the hard and distract with something shinier we aren’t doing our kids any favors. I honestly think that this is a factor that plays into the highest anxiety and depression rates that we’ve ever had before. (Of course, it’s my unprofessional opinion)

Trying to control the uncontrollable seems silly to even type (or read). Our conscious brains understand this, but our visceral responses to uncertainty show otherwise. Unless. Unless you have consciously done some work in this area to understand how to navigate through both uncertainty and suffering, you might be stuck on the anxiety cycle that leaves you anxious even when life is good and enjoyable…which is where we actually increase our own suffering unnessacarily.

Don’t read this and think I’m saying let’s all just throw up our hands and do nothing. No. Let’s do our part. But how about we also work on understanding our own suffering and why we try to wish it away, rather than feel it. How about we teach our kids *by example* that life is equal joy and suffering? How about we stop trying to make it all better? How about we help them grow their own muscles around uncertainty so that they can hold themselves up when they’re on their own navigating their own suffering?

The Power of Community

Last night I participated in a Zoom call for multiracial Asian/White folks. I was invited by a friend and I had no idea what it was about, but I was curious and decided to join thinking I’d listen in and multi-task while getting dinner ready.

Much to my surprise it was a participatory Zoom and we for the most part we were in smaller, more intimate chat groups of four people sharing our experiences and answering questions. I wish I could explain to you the feeling I had being there and seeing a sea of faces that both looked like mine and didn’t look like mine. It was the first time I’d been in a “room” with that many people who were all in the same ambiguous category as me when it comes to how we look and how we are perceived by others.

It felt like home.

We talked first about our favorite comfort foods as an ice-breaker. Three out of four of us said some form of a rice dish and the other was margaritas and we all agreed that yes, that was at the same level of comfort as rice.

We talked about how we identify when we are with friends. It was comforting to talk and have nodding heads of agreement and understanding and not having to explain further what you meant. They just got it. We put words to the fact that we often identified differently depending on the situation we were in and how other people perceived us.

Let me give you a few examples of why I most times identify as a POC, rather than white.

When I was a kid I knew I looked different from my mom and from my siblings. I was the only one in the family who looked like me. If you were to line my siblings and I up, you’d not know we were related.

When I was a teen we went to get family photos and at the time we had an exchange student from Denmark. We let the photographers know we wanted some photos with her and then a few with just our family. The photographers assumed the exchange student was me. Have you ever been thought to be an exchange student in your own family?

When I went to Hawaii with my mom and a friend for a week vacation I kid you not, I could not walk into a store and browse around without someone asking me for help. It was assumed that I worked there.

When I was in my early 20’s I served at Red Robin and more than once I’d greet a table of men who were so excited to ask me what my ethnicity was because there were “taking bets” on who would be right. “You must be an islander,” one said. “I’m guessing something exotic,” another said. Of course, no one got it right.

When my older kids were little and in grade school they would come home and ask why people are asking them “why is your mom a Mexican?”.

When my son was at a basketball tournament we had an awards night and then the boys slept over at the coach’s home. My son texted me later that night and asked for “that one photo where we look like we could be twins”. I instantly knew he was trying to convince his friends that I was actually his biological mom. I asked him if this was what he was trying to do and he texted back, “yeah”.

At least once a week while grocery shopping I am spoken to in spanish because Mexicans tend to think I am Mexican as well. When I went on a Mexican vacation earlier this year it was all day long that people assumed me to speak spanish.

I guess my point is, the way I am perceived is complicated.

Yet. Yet, I’m not white and don’t have full white privilege, rather I have white adjacency. If you look up white adjacency in the Urban dictionary it says, “(n.) A person who is technically a minority, but has access to, utilizes and sometimes benefits from white privilege“. I definitely benefit from white privilege. And I will continue to use those benefits to speak out against all forms of racism against BIPOC.

I could keep typing and processing my thoughts from last night, but I’ll stop here with this. Find your community. Whatever it is. It felt like the best therapy sesh last night to be seen and understood for who we all were. Several people ended the night saying that they were on the verge of tears the entire Zoom because it was so refreshing and healing to hear from others with their same stories. We all agreed that we needed more of this. It was some kind of instant-family that we all felt and I’m so glad I was curious enough to jump on and experience that.

he’s a catch, and he’s mine…

I really did win the jackpot with my hubby. Tad is the hardest worker I know of. Period. The end. His integrity also matches his work ethic, which makes him even more of a catch.

Let’s go back a few years…say 1994. Some of you know this story, but a lot of you don’t. The summer of 94′ I was working in my dad’s onion fields hoeing weeds out of 1/4 acre long rows. It was hot. It was stinky. It was dirty. There were no bathrooms except for 3 sided, old wood, outhouses that were about a half mile away if you were lucky and our day started about 7am. (I’m suddenly feeling old as I tell this story.) One evening Tad called me and I was lucky enough to have a phone in my room. I answered to him asking if I’d like to go to hiking with him at Saddle Mountain. We weren’t yet dating officially, but we were certainly skirting around the idea at this point. We were both 17.

I remember clear as day, running down the stairs and whisper-yelling to my dad, also known as my boss, and asked if I could skip work to go with him. He immediately said no and that I had to work. Dads. I pretty much knew he’d say no, but I still whisper-begged “please, dad” several times. I ran back up to the phone and gave Tad the bad news. “He said I have to work”.

Without skipping a beat he told me to ask my dad if he could work a day for free to make up for the day that I’d be gone hiking. My eyes widened. First in disbelief that he’d actually offer that, then immediately in embarassement that my dad might say yes. I told Tad I would go ask, but that I didn’t think it’d work.

I left the phone again and walked down the stairs a little slower this time. “Hey dad, he says if you let me go with him that he will work for free for a whole day on the farm with me”. A smirk took over my dad’s face and he said, “Oh yeah? for free?…deal”. Oh dear lord. Now I was half excited and half panicked wondering if Tad really knew what he was getting himself into with me.

He seemed sure. And sure enough I looked up from weeding to find his mom driving him down into the fields in her blue, Ford Tauras station wagon that next morning. I tried to keep it cool; to act like this was all perfectly normal when inside I was slowly dying of embarassment. I felt a mixture of, “I’m so sorry my dad made you do this”, and “I’m so flattered that you’d even think this up”.

Long story short, Tad was a champ. He weeded those onions like a boss, with my sister, my bestie and I all giving him pointers like the pros we were. We may have laughed at him when he held up his hands at lunch break, eyeing them, and wondered how he’d clean them before eating. Silly city boy. He also flung himself into the nasty, chemical filled, catfish infested dike to rescue my then 8 year old brother who got too close and fell in.

Boy, did he work for that date.

Anyhow. Nothing has changed. He told me last night that this staying at home ‘rona business is, “his actual dream vacation”, because he’s always wanted uninterrupted time to just work on the house and get all the projects done. That’s right. I’m not the slave driver here. He seriously loves to work and accomplish tasks like no one’s business and I get to benefit from it.

I just figured he needed a shoutout from his number one fan. And honestly, this blog is for our kids anyhow. I want them to have these stories and words to keep and pass on and to remember. He’s a catch and I’m thankful he’s mine; that once upon a time he got dropped off in a stinky, dirty onion field, all for me.

that #rona life

today marks day 19 of being at home self-quarantined (except for outdoor walks). though i’m an extrovert 75% of the time, i can introvert with the best of em. as long as i have books, my family, food and netflix (and not necessarily in that order) i’m good and content. for the last 18 months tad has worked an average of 70 hour weeks, so i’m actually loving having him all to myself with nowhere to go. besides the no paycheck part, i could totally live the slow life like this again.

back in the day we used to live up a 2 mile long gravel road in the middle of the forest and it was a gift to be forced to slow it down, to not get internet or have entertainment that wasn’t a 20-30 minute drive away. that’s what this rona time reminds me of…being content with the things that matter and letting the rest go. the little kids actually love it. we aren’t rushing them anywhere. ok i lie. we actually rush them to bed at 7pm because don’t you think we don’t want our adult netflix and chill time. .

besides the house projects going on here, we are trying to get the kids up and out and running around in fresh air. most the time that’s just in our backyard or around our neighborhood, but sometimes you need new scenery and today we found some 2 minutes down the road.

My hope is that when my kids look back at this time as adults they remember that rona time as a time full of adventure, relaxed days and schedules and that mom actually cooked way more than she usually did.

The Brain What?

The Brain Breakthrough.

I want to take the time to sit and help you understand how I got here; to become a Brain Breakthrough practitioner. I know. Sounds crazy, but honestly, what’s new? Crazy is my middle name and I wear it proudly.

Let’s go back 14 years. My oldest daughter was 6 and in 1st grade at one of my favorite little school’s ever — possibly because it was also my school as a first grader. She wasn’t catching on to reading…at all. She seemed to be in her own dream world much of the time and she started to miss her recess each day because she couldn’t get the work done in the same time as the other students. This concerned me because even as a young mom I knew the importance of being outside and what it did for her health both physically and mentally.

By second grade we could see her confidence decreasing and her shyness increasing. We could tell her anxiety was higher and when she couldn’t perform at school the way her teacher wanted her to she felt so scared that she peed her pants…more than once.

In third grade she still wasn’t reading at grade level. She was told she could only check out books at the library at her reading level, which also happened to be the kindergarten-first grade level and they obviously didn’t interest her. It was a catch-22. Girls started bullying her because she was an easy target. She was quiet. She had lost all confidence in herself and felt dumb and wouldn’t self-advocate. I didn’t even know this was happening until I found bruises on her legs from the girls kicking her silently in the middle of class; the teacher had no idea. Girls were bouncing balls off her head in PE class and it was at this point we pulled her out of public school and decided to homeschool.

Homeschool was NEVER on my list of things to do, but we didn’t know how else to help her save what was left of her confidence and self-worth than to bring her home for a bit. Three months after coming home she learned to read at grade level and I remember the exact day she brought a book to the dinner table and I had to ask her to put it away – my dream.

Fast forward to high school. She decided it was time to go back to public school to learn and we agreed. It was hard. Hard isn’t actually the word. It was grueling to watch her. She struggled as she had in grade school to keep up with everyone else. What took everyone else in class 15 minutes to complete would take her 3 hours. No exaggeration. It would also include a lot of tears and her missing out on sleep because she was so determined to get everything done.

Her sophomore year we got her tested for Auditory Processing Disorder or APD. The tests confirmed what we had guessed was true years ago. The only thing this did was give her a diagnosis so that her teachers would give her extra time to complete everything. It wasn’t super helpful, but it was something. What we didn’t understand at that point was how dyslexic she also was. We thought it was only the APD that caused this learning disability. Turns out she could only see 3 letters on a page at a time.

Fast forward to last summer. She had felt as if she really couldn’t go back to college because it was just too hard for her to complete the reading, understand the reading and do all the work in the time allotted. She felt hopeless and dumb, with a side of shame.

Let’s also not forget that over the last 10 years or so that we had had a lot of trauma walk through our doors through foster care. Trauma from DHS, trauma from the actual kiddos (not their fault) and trauma from loss.

That’s when I saw my friend, Jessi, talking on a FaceBook live video about her new business working with the brain. I was intrigued and immediately messaged her. Jessi said she was a perfect candidate and that she had time to see her in July (2019). We talked about it as a family and decided to give it a try. What could it hurt? Yes, it was expensive, but what if it worked? If it worked then we’d have gladly paid more. What if?

After seeing Jessi for 3 days, about 3-4 hours each day, Kayla called me sobbing. I actually thought she had gotten in a car accident because I could hardly understand her.

“What happened”, I asked.

“Mom, I can read”…”I’m not dumb”…more sobbing…”I can go back to school if I want to”…”I can understand what I’m reading”.

I was dumbfounded. She claimed she could read as fast as I could and that her comprehension went from 20% to 90%. What? In three days?

I immediately called Jessi and said, “Tell me everything!”.

After that phone call I knew this was something I wanted to do. I wanted to be able to help people feel exactly what Kayla felt that day. I wanted people to know they weren’t broken, but that their brains just needed a little rewiring. And when I found out that this was also in the field of trauma it sealed the deal.

I feel like the last 15-20 years have built up to me working in this field. Working from home (for now), helping people release trauma that is being stored in their bodies and helping them find freedom in wholeness physically and emotionally. Is it a cure-all for everything? Nope. But it’s definitely one modality that every single person could use right about now with what’s going on in the world right now.

As soon as we can move about more freely and close that 6 ft distancing I will be opening up my practice as a Brain Breakthrough practitioner.

Here’s where I tell you that I need you. I need you to share this story with anyone else who may be in the same boat. Anyone that suffers from anxiety, depression, traumatic brain injuries, dyslexia, learning difficulties…they need to know something like this exists. I wish we had this five years earlier at the beginning of high school, but maybe our path here will have been worth it if I can help you or your child (ages ten and up) avoid what we had to go through.

And for more information go to The Brain Breakthrough to read other people’s stories and (soon) book your session with me or someone in your area.

peace comes in surrender…

Now more than ever, this is the time to digest this truth. Peace isn’t something you can hope for and pray comes magically. You can certainly pray for it, but you aren’t going to get those prayers answered without first surrendering.

Surrender is hard for us as a people; it’s harder for us as Americans even more so. Surrender isn’t something that is natural; in fact, it seems to go against our very nature, explaining why it’s so few and far between that people actually experience it at their core.

Surrender is a knowing. It’s a knowing that you are so small in this whole thing called life. It’s a knowing that control is an illusion; always has been.

Surrender is a gift.

Surrender may feel like a giving up, but it’s more like a deep breath filled with hope. Hope is life.

But first, how in the world do you even surrender? Throw up your hands and say, “Whatever the f*ck happens happens”? Live life as if nothing matters because we have no control anyhow? Not exactly the point here.

Surrendering is a daily thought process; a daily knowing that we can only control our thoughts about the facts that are happening in our lives. We can control WHAT we think about the facts. The facts are neutral. The fact is, yes, our economy may be headed to shambles. The fact is, yes, this virus is nasty and has created a pandemic affect in our world. The fact is, yes, our lives have shifted; changed and we aren’t sure for how long.

But surrender looks like waking up and thinking I can only control what I feel and think. I don’t have to feel what the media wants me to think. I don’t have to feel hopeless because (fill in the blank). I don’t need to worry about tomorrow because I have today. We waste today because we choose to worry about tomorrow. Do you get that? I may not be able to change what’s going on “out there” but I can change what’s going on in my head.

And when we do that; when we make a conscious decision to choose what we think, then we can feel and know peace like never before. Then we can feel and hear the Creator’s actual peace and voice because our agenda and thoughts are not blocking the way.

Peace is a knowing that we are a resilient people.

Peace is a knowing that we were made for such a time as this.

Peace is a knowing that we are all in this together.

Peace is a knowing that this is life. It’s not God’s punishment or a test. Stop saying that. Life is full of hard things and good things. Our job is to feel it all and stop trying to push away hard, scary things. Acknowledge the feelings, write about them, talk about them and then choose how you will feel about them now. (I don’t pretend to have these original thoughts. Please go listen to Brooke Castillo’s podcast and start her series on Handling Chaos so you can do a deep dive.)

Surrender is giving up a false sense of control and and walking out the door of the cage you’ve built up around yourself. You built the cage of fear; the cage that prevents you from having peace. The door isn’t locked. You can walk out if you want to. If you disagree and think it is a locked cage and you can’t get out then envision me right now handing you a cold, metal key and you taking it and unlocking that door.

Because…peace.

Peace is freedom.

Peace is being able to live fully now; no matter what the facts are.

(photos by joy prouty)

Bored? Good.

Boredom is good. Do you believe that? I always preached boredom to my kids. When they said, “I’m so bored”, I said, “Good! It’s so good for your brain to be bored!”. I let them sit in that boredom and I’m not sorry about it.

They hated that. But honestly, if you don’t know how to go sit up in a tree branch and think about nothing, you really need to go learn that skill. There are a lot of things I probably didn’t teach my kids, but one thing I did teach them how to do is to be bored. When we homeschooled in their younger years we had a quiet time EVERY day. I needed it just as much as they did. Depending on the day (read: depending on how naughty the boys were) determined if it was one hour or two hours. They had to be in their rooms. They could play legos, listen to books on CD’s, nap or read…anything but be loud and come out of their rooms. It was my holy sanity every day.

I think it was theirs as well. They hated it. But they also loved it. They learned to occupy themselves. No TV, no screens (wasn’t a thing then). They learned to hear their own thoughts. They learned how to create and came up with some crazy-ass ideas that they implemented once they could go outside again (i.e. zip lines, mud slides, booby-traps in the forest).

My point is to take this time of social distancing and use it. Use it to learn how to be. Use it to teach your kids how to be. You don’t have to occupy them all damn day. It’s not your job. Keep them fed, keep them safe, keep them healthy. But let them be bored.

When we had foster kids come to live with us the first thing they’d say is, “What?? you don’t have TV?”. The second thing they’d do (if they were teenagers) was walk around in our backyard with their hands high, holding their cellphoneWe had a TV, but we only watched movies from discs that came in the mail two at at time through snail mail (this is how Netflix started y’all). It was shocking to them. They honestly didn’t know what to do. They didn’t realize that the acres of forest outside was all they needed. They had no idea how to climb a tree and even if they did, they couldn’t hold their own body weight because they never needed their arm muscles before.

Glennon Doyle writes in her book Untamed, “…inside the itchiness of our own skin is where we discover who we are. When we are bored, we ask ourselves: What do I want to do with myself? We are guided toward certain things: a pen and paper, a guitar, the forest in the backyard, a soccer ball, a spatula. The moment after we don’t know what to do with ourselves is the moment we find ourselves. Right after itchy boredom is self-discovery. But we have to hang in there long enough without bailing”.

Take this time and figure that out for yourself and be ok with your kids figuring it out for themselves. Don’t stress over the school work. Teaching them how to be, rather than what to do next is a life skill that will serve them for the rest of their lives.

image by Joy Prouty

Also…don’t forget to throw in ice cream here and there or maybe daily.

It's a boy!

We found out back in the fall that we were going to be grandparents.

Let’s just pause here.

Let’s be clear that we are not old enough to be grandparents yet, but moving on…

Our oldest, Kayla, and her partner, Jimmy are seriously the best and they will be the most chill parents ever (both enneagram 9’s) and we can’t wait for June to get here so we can meet the little guy.

Back in the day a gender reveal party wasn’t even a thing, but it would’ve been a blast if it was. Last month was their big reveal and we were all pretty excited to find out it’s a boy. Actually, Kayla was/is a little scared knowing how her dad and brothers were growing up, haha!

Self-Quarantine Day 5

Yesterday was day five of no school for the Raichart’s (we bowed out last Friday) and the first time we ventured out to go on a little nature/therapy walk. The mental and physical benefits of getting outside in the sun are many and I highly recommend you find some new trails, or simply walk about in your neighborhood. I’ve been sitting on my front porch in the sun, watching the kids play, and have met several neighbors (from across the yard) that I’ve never met in the last two years. There are so many positives to staying home and settling in. It reminds me of my days when I lived in Gaston, on a few acres in the forest; peaceful and serene. Here’s a great article that talks about how to do social distancing safely outside.

Muddy toes quite literally make me so happy. These are the things of childhood that matter. So get out there and go explore. Join us in finding the joy in the little things again.