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Tag: mantra

  • I’m Back

    April arrived with the weight of a thousand bricks. I lacked motivation and felt a heaviness that slowly dissolved into emptiness. Yup, depression decided to join me for a time. I didn’t recognize it at first- my typical bouts of depression are usually triggered by situations or events—but this time was different.

    It crept in quietly. I worked with my therapist, and at one point he said, “Sounds like depression.” I was angry with him and disappointed in myself, which, of course, only deepened the spiral. But over time, I found acceptance. I’m not immune to life, after all. I named it, accepted it, adjusted my plans, and shifted my focus to gentle living.

    I recently ran into a friend who asked why I hadn’t been blogging. I shared that depression had visited, and May had been wild with the kids and end-of-school activities, but reassured them I was doing better and would be writing again soon. They looked at me with compassion. Then they asked something that surprised me:

    “How did you move through your depression?”

    Their question felt safe, and I found myself opening up. I shared how I transitioned into a gentle living pattern—showing up as I was for what I had to do: being a mom, doing my job, being a friend. Everything else was placed on a leveled playing field. Over those 6–8 weeks of depression, I repeated a simple mantra and focused on the bare minimum. Sure, the laundry piled up and I fell behind in a few areas, but I allowed myself to rest. I listened to my body.

    I pulled out my weighted blanket (which had been packed away for over a year). I did a few minutes of laid-back yoga. I made sure I ate when I was hungry. Showering stretched to every 3–4 days; but I was doing it.

    “Wow, you have so much strength,” my friend said.
    And it hit me; yes, I do.

    I went back to basics without losing myself. I made a softer schedule. I silenced the voice demanding perfection. I used my tools, reshaped my world, and slowly, it passed. It felt like someone flipped the light switch back on.

    I’m proud of myself.
    My passions are back.
    My smile is back.
    My motivation is back.

    I’ve been me the whole time.
     I was enough during the depression, and I remain enough now.

  • My Walk with Fear

    The Old Me

    As a child, I hated being scared. My brothers used to hide in my room or sneak up behind me. They would jump out and say, “Boo.” I would fall to the floor in tears. I know it was all in good fun, and I’m sure my big reaction kept them coming back for more. Fast forward several decades, and now I have kids of my own. One of my darling children attempted a jump scare at me, and boy, did it work.

    My big reaction to fear has always been just that—I scream, I cry, I freeze. While working through day treatment, I came to understand that my body was basically always in fight-or-flight mode. At times, the normal sounds of the house would make me jump—the air turning on, a sudden noise from another room. I absolutely hated it, but learning the why behind it forced me to see that my heightened startle response made perfect sense.

    Learning a New Skill

    During treatment, I was introduced to the mantra: “I am safe.” I was encouraged to repeat it whenever my body went into fight-or-flight mode, helping to rewire my brain and calm my nervous system. At first, it felt ridiculous—like I was lying to myself. My mind fought against it. Of course, you’re not safe. No one is 100% safe all the time. I would scoff, You’re lying to yourself. But over time, as I practiced, something interesting happened. My body began to respond. It didn’t mean I never felt fear, but my reactions started to shift.

    Once my kids reached elementary age, I finally found my voice. After one particularly bad jump scare, I gathered my children and my husband and calmly explained that I did not like being scared. I shared that it was not a fun emotion for me and that my body reacted strongly to fear. My brilliant little humans, as curious as ever, asked why my body reacted this way and what had happened to me as a child.

    Holding back tears, I told them, Mommy’s life was hard. My childhood was full of angry people, and it made me live on edge. I’m working with my body to remind myself that I am safe now.

    My life Now

    It took years, but I remember the day I was sitting on the deck, reading a book in the sunshine. The air conditioner unit clicked on. I heard it—but I didn’t jump. I noticed the sound, but my body stayed calm. It was a small moment, yet it was proof that something had changed. My body no longer treated a harmless noise as a threat.

    Why do I share these stories with strangers on the internet? Because I know I’m not the only one who struggles with fear and feeling “jumpy.” I know others have lived through similar experiences, and these are not easy things to talk about. It’s not like you can casually tell a friend, “The air conditioner didn’t make me jump today!” without them looking at you strangely. Vulnerability on this level isn’t always met with compassion and understanding.

    I want others to know—they are not alone in their walk with fear. Small victories are worth celebrating. Every time we notice progress, our brain rewires a little more. I used to think I was alone and weird. But looking back, it all makes sense. And I want to empower others to know that in time, things can and do get better. Slowly, with practice, patience, and self-compassion, we heal.

    To this day, I still mute my television when a scary advertisement pops up—and I’m not embarrassed by it. Because I am doing what I need to do to protect my own body and mind.