Peer Reflections

Nurturing Wellness through Creativity and Compassion
About
Peer Reflections
Gratitude Reflections
Through The Lens
Blog
Resources

Tag: personal growth

  • Lucy, The Unexpected Ally

    Lucy, the Unexpected Ally

    This is Lucy. She was a cellar spider that lived in our dining room. The first time I noticed her, my immediate reaction was fear—I wanted her gone. But then, I saw what she was doing.

    Lucy had captured a harlequin lady beetle, better known as an Asian beetle. These invasive pests are everywhere in the upper Midwest, especially in the fall. They bite, they smell, and they always seem to find their way inside. But Lucy, with her messy, disorganized web, had managed to catch one—one less beetle for me to vacuum up.

    At the time, my kids were just toddlers, and like me, they were afraid of spiders. But instead of passing my fear down to them, I chose to break the cycle. We watched Lucy together, learning about her instead of fearing her. I told them how cellar spiders are harmless and actually help keep other pests in check. And just like that, Lucy wasn’t a scary, unwanted guest anymore—she was part of the house. We even gave her a name.

    Sometimes, the things we fear have a purpose. And when we take the time to learn about them, that fear can begin to fade. Of course, it’s easier with something tangible—like a spider—but the same idea applies to the fears we carry inside. If we lean in, just a little, and try to understand them, maybe they won’t seem so scary after all.

  • 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.

  • Emotional Regulation: Fear

    Getting To Know Fear

    Fear is an interesting emotion; it can arise from a legitimate situation or a perceived threat. This makes fear a very complex emotion. In many ways, fear acts like an internal alarm system. The brain sends signals to the body, prompting automatic reactions. Most people are familiar with the fight-or-flight response, but there are also two other reactions: freeze and fawn.

    Fear is highly individualized. Some people seek it out—watching horror movies or chasing adrenaline through thrill-seeking activities. Others, like me, prefer to avoid it. I don’t even enjoy watching others engage in stunts, and even just seeing a trailer for a horror film can give me nightmares. This is where curiosity and noticing come into play.

    When we notice a threat, real or imagined, our body responds automatically: we might start to sweat, our hands may feel clammy, our heart races, and our breathing becomes shallow. For some, these sensations can trigger an anxiety or panic attack. Fear, when unchecked, can also manifest into phobias or generalized anxiety. It can stem from past experiences, trauma, or the fear of losing control.

    How to Cope with Fear

    This is where noticing becomes a valuable tool. I once had friends who loved horror movies. Thinking I could handle it, I joined them to watch Thinner by Stephen King. That decision led to months of nightmares. I realized that scary movies are not for me. The emotional rollercoaster and lingering effects weren’t worth it. Through noticing, I also discovered that haunted houses and jump scares are not my thing—I hate being scared.

    Coping with fear is a challenge. I try my best to remind myself to breathe and, if a situation is too overwhelming, I give myself permission to leave. Those who experience anxiety, panic, or PTSD might be more sensitive to fear, making it even more crucial to develop coping strategies.

    Interestingly, I’ve noticed that when a real threat arises, my body responds in different ways. If the threat involves someone I love, I am ready to fight. If the threat is directed at me, I have sometimes found myself fawning—a response shaped by past experiences. One thing I know for sure: the more I focus on fear, the bigger it becomes.

    Preparing for Fear Without Letting It Take Over

    Just like we prepare for tornadoes in the Midwest—having a safety kit, knowing where to take shelter, and staying weather-aware—we can also prepare for fear in healthy ways. The key is balance. Refreshing the radar every two minutes during a storm crosses into obsession, just as avoiding driving all winter might be letting fear take control. Preparation is empowering, but when fear dictates our actions entirely, it becomes limiting.

    Here are some ways to prepare for fear without letting it rule your life:

    Key notes

    1. Have a Fear Plan
      Just like an emergency plan for severe weather, you can create a plan for situations that trigger fear. Ask yourself:
      • What is my fear telling me?
      • What steps can I take to feel safer?
      • Who can I reach out to for support?
      • What is within my control, and what is not?
    2. Ground Yourself in Reality
      Fear thrives in uncertainty. If you find yourself caught in a spiral of what-ifs, try grounding techniques:
      • Five Senses Check-in: Name five things you see, four things you touch, three things you hear, two things you smell, and one thing you taste.
      • Fact vs. Fiction: Ask yourself, “What are the actual facts, and what is my fear assuming?”
    3. Take Incremental Steps
      If fear is stopping you from doing something, break it down into small, manageable steps. For example:
      • If driving in winter terrifies you, start by taking short, local drives on clear days and gradually build your confidence.
      • If social anxiety keeps you from attending events, start with brief interactions and build from there.
    4. Set Boundaries with Fear
      It’s okay to acknowledge fear, but it doesn’t have to dictate your choices. Think of it as setting a boundary:
      • Healthy Fear: “I won’t drive in an ice storm because it’s unsafe.”
      • Fear Taking Over: “I won’t drive at all this winter because something bad might happen.”
    5. Practice Self-Compassion
      Fear isn’t weakness—it’s a natural response. Instead of judging yourself for being afraid, try saying:
      • “It’s okay to feel this way.”
      • “Fear is trying to protect me, but I am safe.”
      • “I can make choices that support both my safety and my growth.”

    By preparing for fear the same way we prepare for storms—thoughtfully, without obsession—we can navigate life’s uncertainties with more confidence and resilience.

    Tune in tomorrow as I share more of my personal walk with fear..

  • My Walk with Anger

    The Old Me

    You might not believe this, but, I was known for my temper—the smallest things used to set me off. Once, while enjoying a beach day with a friend, words were exchanged, and the tension between us escalated. Back then, I didn’t understand the power of emotions or how to calm myself down so I could respond instead of react. And my reactions? They were explosive.

    As we left the beach, the argument continued in the car. I felt trapped and furious. We were both yelling, and I lost control. In a moment of pure emotional chaos, I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the car door, fully intending to jump out of the moving vehicle.

    Looking back, I see that this reckless decision was my desperate attempt to remove myself from the situation. I didn’t have the skills or the understanding of anger—I only knew that when I was upset, my emotions took over, and I said and did things I never truly meant. I was reacting, not thinking.

    This wasn’t an isolated incident. When anger consumed me, I threw things, kicked things, and said horrible words that couldn’t be taken back. It wasn’t until I started learning about emotions that I began peeling back the layers of my anger.

    For the longest time, when the rage monster appeared, I didn’t even recognize the warning signs. I wasn’t aware of what made me angry or how my body reacted until the fight was already over. I didn’t notice my blood pressure rising or my muscles tensing—anger was so ingrained in me that I assumed those sensations were just part of who I was.

    The Change

    That changed when I started working with my therapist. I learned to recognize the subtle signs: my heart beating faster, my muscles tightening, that slow burn of frustration bubbling inside me. I was taught tools—how to walk away, how to remove myself from the situation, how to disengage before things spiraled out of control. Deep breaths, brisk walks, choosing not to see the other person as an enemy.

    I’ll never forget the first time I put these tools into action. In the middle of a heated argument, I paused and said, “I’m feeling elevated. Let’s take a walk and continue this conversation after.”

    The person I was speaking to didn’t take it well. They told me I was avoiding the conversation, abandoning their needs, and that taking a walk was a stupid idea. But in reality, they were angry because they couldn’t control my emotions or my actions like they had expected.

    So I stood up, listened to my body, and took the walk alone.

    When I returned, I felt calmer—ready to continue the hard conversation. But the other person escalated again, raising their voice and growing angrier. That’s when I realized: taking a break worked. I was in control of my emotions, and they weren’t.

    That moment was a turning point. The more I practiced, the more I noticed anger’s presence before it took over. I wasn’t perfect, but over time, the emotional explosions faded. I built healthier patterns.

    The New Me

    And then came the day I knew—without a doubt—that I had control over my anger. A loved one, struggling with deep insecurities, projected their pain onto me. In the past, I would have snapped, lashed out, or fed into the fight. But this time, something shifted. I felt the anger rise… and then it subsided before I even responded.

    I saw the situation for what it was—their pain, not mine. I remained calm, stood up for myself multiple times, and ultimately set a boundary: I needed space to process. That was the breaking point for them. They ended the relationship because they weren’t willing to respect my need for space.

    Losing that relationship hurt. The grief was real. But at the same time, I was so damn proud of myself. I hadn’t gotten defensive. I hadn’t engaged in their anger. I had given them my time, my patience, and multiple chances to work through it. Asking for space wasn’t unreasonable—anyone in my life today would understand and respect that.

    I handled it with clarity, self-respect, and emotional control.

    That friendship ended, but I walked away knowing my worth. Knowing that all the internal work I had done was real. That I managed my anger like a pro.

    And that? That was a victory.

  • Emotional Regulation: Anger

    Getting to Know Anger

    If I were to ask you what makes you angry, you could probably come up with a long list—politics, relationships, pet peeves, and so on. Most of us can easily identify external triggers.

    If I were to ask what anger looks like, you might list things like furrowed brows, crossed arms, yelling, slamming doors, or even physical violence. And while these are common expressions of anger, they aren’t anger itself. They’re reactions to anger—patterns we’ve learned over time.

    But what if we could break those patterns? Through emotional regulation, we can learn to recognize anger as it arises and remain calm enough to respond rather than react.

    Think about a time when anger led to an automatic reaction:

    Imagine you’re driving, and another car suddenly cuts you off, forcing you to slam on the brakes. If you’re anything like me, your instinct might be to lay on the horn, throw up a middle finger, yell profanities, and maybe even tailgate out of frustration—only feeling relief once they’re out of sight. 

    Sound familiar?

    Believe it or not, this reaction isn’t necessarily healthy. Many of us react this way because we’ve seen it modeled around us. But these automatic reactions don’t actually help—they just keep us stuck in cycles of stress and frustration. Emotional regulation gives us a different choice: to notice anger, understand its purpose, and respond intentionally rather than impulsively.

    Why Do We Feel Anger?

    Anger is a protective emotion. It shows up when we feel wronged, threatened, unheard, disrespected, or when something feels unfair. Anger can also reveal what we’re passionate about—what matters to us.

    Using the driving example, anger could stem from:

    • A sense of threat—your safety (or that of your loved ones) was put at risk.
    • A need for control—you were following the rules, and someone else wasn’t.
    • A feeling of unfairness—why should you have to slam on the brakes because of their carelessness?

    The truth is, anger, frustration, and irritation all serve a purpose. But if we’re not careful, unchecked anger can lead to reactions that create more harm than good.

    What to Notice

    One way to start regulating anger is by noticing how it feels in your body before it fully takes over.

    These physical changes happen before we lash out. And that’s where we have power—by catching anger in this stage, we can shift from reacting to responding.

    Anger often brings subtle physiological shifts—like early warning signs from your body:

    • Increased heart rate
    • Shallow, huffy breathing
    • Rising blood pressure
    • Clenched teeth or tight muscles
    • Flushed face or increased body heat
    • Shaking or even unexpected tears

    Shifting the Pattern

    Once we recognize anger’s early signs, we can choose how to respond. Here’s what that might look like in real time:

    🚗 A car cuts you off.
    😤 You feel anger rising—your heart pounds, your face gets hot, your muscles tense.
    🛑 Instead of reacting impulsively, you pause.
    💨 You take a deep breath.
    🤔 You think: “That was rude, but I’m glad my brakes work. Maybe they weren’t paying attention. Either way, I’m safe.”
    🎶 You turn up the music, focus on your driving, and let it go.

    By choosing to respond instead of react, you keep yourself emotionally regulated—and, more importantly, you keep yourself safe.

    And here’s the thing: your anger is still valid. That driver was careless. It is frustrating. But instead of letting them control your emotional state, you take control of your own reaction.

    Anger in Relationships

    Road rage isn’t the only place we see automatic anger reactions. Relationships—whether with friends, family, or coworkers—are occasionally a potential trigger for anger.

    Instead of getting stuck in yelling, debating, or escalating arguments, we can practice a simple but powerful tool: pausing the conversation.

    “Hey, I’m noticing that I’m feeling really elevated right now. I want to stay level-headed because this conversation is important to me. I need to take a short break, and we can pick this back up soon.”

    Stepping away allows your body to reset so you don’t say something you regret. During that time, you can:

    • Drink some water
    • Go for a short walk
    • Eat something (low blood sugar affects mood!)
    • Take deep breaths

    Final Thoughts

    Our patterns can change over time. The only way to practice emotional regulation is by experiencing these emotions in real time and choosing new responses.

    Tomorrow, I’ll be sharing personal reflections on my own anger patterns—how they used to look and how they’ve changed. Stay tuned.

    .

  • One Thing At A Time

    Photo by Shannon

    The winter storm stirs up wonders. Through snow and wind, bending and blowing, the very things that should be buried beneath layers of ice and frozen to the earth resurface. A perfect white canvas, now speckled with autumn’s remnants.

    Sometimes, healing feels like this. A storm blows through, uncovering things we thought we had buried. Triggers, past traumas—showing up at the most inopportune times. But instead of fighting it, I take notice. I don’t chastise the leaf for landing on fresh snow. I don’t demand that it disappear. Instead, I wonder—how did the wind carry it here? I notice the edges, the color-worn but not damaged.

    We can make matters worse by denying what surfaces. We can freeze our hands trying to dig through the snow, desperate to put things back where they belong. Or we can simply notice. Be curious. Trust that, just like the leaf, these things will find their way—no matter how much they contrast against the untouched snow.

  • Box Office Gratitude

    I’m going to be a bit vulnerable today. When it comes to TV shows and movies, I tend to stick with old favorites. Even my kids can predict the general order of what I’ll choose to watch—Gilmore Girls, How I Met Your Mother, Friends, New Girl, and documentaries on Earth, wildlife, Egypt, and space. It’s a familiar cycle.

    I re-watch these shows because I know exactly what’s coming. There are no unexpected triggers, no emotional landmines. This is also why I absolutely detest going to the movie theater. My movie choices follow the same pattern—I cycle through The Mummy (1-3), Harry Potter (1-7), and Jurassic Park (all of them).

    I avoid movies that make me cry. The Croods, almost anything Disney, and Inside Out—I can’t do it. Don’t get me wrong, they’re beautifully made, but they hit too close to home. The emotions they stir up aren’t just about sadness; they bring up grief, loss, and truths that are hard to face.

    Recently, I made the mistake of going to see Inside Out 2 with my family. I had told them I didn’t want to go. I even suggested my husband take them instead. But they were sweet, encouraging me to come along. And so, I did.

    I bawled.

    Not just a few tears—I sobbed. The movie hit me hard, forcing me to confront emotions I wasn’t ready for. By the time the credits rolled and the lights came on, my kids turned to me and said, “Yup, you were right. You cried.”

    My kids are at the age where they ask hard questions. They’re curious, thoughtful, and I’ve done a good job raising them to be unafraid of emotions. They wanted to understand—What part made you cry?

    It was difficult to explain. I shared a little about my past, just enough to help them make sense of my reaction. But their questions lingered throughout the week, popping up at random moments. I wanted to meet their curiosity with honesty, but I also wanted to protect them.

    And then, a realization hit me.

    Their inability to fully understand my grief is a good thing. They’ve never had to hide under a parked car to protect themselves from someone chasing them. They don’t have to fear that when their dad and I get upset, we’ll break their bedroom door in half.

    They don’t carry that kind of fear because they are safe. They are loved.

    And that fills me with pride.

    At the same time, grief sneaks in—because I didn’t get that same childhood. I didn’t grow up in a home where emotions were handled with care. But instead of letting that consume me, I remind myself: I am breaking cycles. I am giving them what I never had.

    And for that, I am grateful.

  • Exploring Emotional Regulation

    A Journey Through Core Emotions

    For the next several weeks, we’ll be exploring emotional regulation through primary emotions: anger, happiness, sadness, and fear. These emotions are widely recognized as the most universal emotions. Of course, emotions are complex and layered, but these will provide a firm foundation for understanding how we experience and regulate them.

    Starting From Scratch

    It might feel strange to start from scratch. I don’t know about you, but I’m in my 40s, and honestly, I never really took the time to learn what each emotion meant for me—where I felt it in my body, how it showed up, and what it made me feel like. Instead, I grew up being told what emotions should look and feel like. It wasn’t until I was in day treatment that I took the time to understand emotions with fresh eyes and an open mind.

    Going back to the basics—being curious and noticing—helped me reach an important stage: labeling my emotions. This allowed me to eventually understand what I needed in those moments, whether that was comfort, space, or a way to calm myself down. This is the same process that children are introduced to in preschool and kindergarten, yet many of us never got the chance to fully integrate it into our adult lives.

    But emotions are tricky. Even when we think we have them figured out, they evolve, showing up in new ways. At one point, the idea of never fully solving the “puzzle” of emotions terrified me. And, to be honest, I still don’t always welcome my emotions with open arms. But I’ve become less afraid of looking inward and being honest with myself—and that, in itself, is a huge step. We’ll get into those deeper layers later this year, but for now, let’s focus on the foundation.

    What is emotional regulation?

    Emotional regulation isn’t about controlling or suppressing emotions—it’s about noticing, understanding, and responding to them in ways that support our well-being. It’s about recognizing what’s happening inside of us before we react, so we can make choices that align with our values rather than acting on impulse. It’s not about being less emotional—it’s about being more aware of what our emotions are telling us.

    This process starts with three key things:

    1. Noticing – Taking a step back to observe what we’re feeling, where we’re feeling it in our bodies, and how it’s showing up.
    2. Curiosity – Approaching our emotions with a sense of wonder rather than judgment. Instead of thinking, I shouldn’t feel this way, we can ask, Why am I feeling this? What is this emotion trying to tell me?
    3. Non-Judgment – Allowing ourselves to feel without labeling emotions as “good” or “bad.” All emotions serve a purpose. The goal isn’t to avoid difficult emotions but to navigate them with compassion.

    Looking Ahead

    Over the next several weeks, we’ll explore each of these core emotions in depth, breaking them down into:

    • What they are and why they matter
    • How they show up in our bodies
    • The difference between the emotion itself and our reactions to it
    • How noticing these emotions early can help us regulate them
    • Tools to navigate them in a healthier way

    Each week will focus on one emotion, starting with anger—an emotion that many of us struggle with but one that, when understood, can actually be a powerful tool for self-awareness and boundary-setting.

    This isn’t about fixing or changing how you feel—it’s about building awareness so that you can respond to your emotions in ways that feel right for you.

    I hope you’ll join me on this journey, and if you have thoughts, reflections, or experiences you want to share, I’d love to hear them. Let’s start by getting curious together.

  • Violet Veil

    Photo by Shannon

    Art has always been my sanctuary, my solace, and my voice when words fail to capture the complexity of my emotions.

    “Violet Veil” emerged from a moment of profound reflection. The interplay of vibrant purples and reds in this image reflects the layers of emotion I was experiencing: the deep shadows of pain interwoven with the soft light of hope. The flowers, delicate yet resilient, seem to push through the veil, symbolizing growth and transformation even in the midst of struggle.

    Through this piece, I was reminded that beauty can exist alongside sorrow, and that healing often involves embracing the contrasts—the vivid and the muted, the joy and the ache. Violet Veil invites the viewer to look closer, to pause and notice the intricate details that often go unseen, much like the small but significant moments of healing in our own journeys. Art allows us to find clarity where there was once only chaos, and Violet Veil serves as a testament to the power of seeing through the layers—both in the image and within ourselves.

  • Love/Hate Relationship with Emotions

    I continue to have a love/hate relationship with emotions. Logically, I know that emotions help us figure out our needs, and I love that. It’s something I am continually learning, as each emotion and situation has its own nuances. Emotions are complex, and I often find myself lost in them. But I’m grateful that I can take a curious approach to them. Over time, I’ve learned not to fight my emotions but to sit with them and ask: What does this mean? How can I support myself?

    The frustrating part—the part I still struggle to flow with—is when a random emotion hits out of nowhere.

    I wake up in a good mood, feeling rested, going about my day, and then BAM! Like a rogue wave crashing over me, an emotion floods in suddenly and intensely. I’m not always graceful or accepting in moments like this. I get frustrated and overwhelmed. But living with PTSD means this will be a continual battle, and the best way I know to thrive through emotional or physical flashbacks is to give my emotions space.

    The hardest part for me is not knowing what triggered the rogue wave of emotions. I’ve spent hours—even days—trying to figure it out, digging for the root cause. But my best success comes when I acknowledge and validate the emotion rather than interrogate it. Instead of chasing the “why,” I focus on supporting myself through it.

    Sometimes, that support looks like allowing myself to cry. Other times, it’s reaching out to a trusted person who won’t make the emotion worse. It’s giving myself space and time to take care of myself.

    Sometimes, this interferes with my plans—because the emotions feel too big to function. Other times, I can box them up and carry on, dealing with the gnawing annoyance of them in the back of my mind.

    But no matter what, I will carry on.

    I will take the time to address things as they arise and remind myself that taking care of me is not just important—it’s necessary.