Peer Reflections

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  • The Messy Middle of Anger

    Peer Reflection:

    Looking back, I rarely remember what the arguments were about, just the intensity of the anger, how it hijacked my body, and the shame that followed. I remember the heaviness. The lashing out. The aftermath of emotional wreckage, like I had turned into someone I didn’t recognize.

    I didn’t know how to name emotions. I didn’t know how to sit with discomfort. I only knew how to explode or escape.

    For me, anger wasn’t just yelling. It was numbing with alcohol and drugs. It was self-harm. It was shutting down and running away. Anything to avoid the more painful emotions hiding underneath: grief, fear, loneliness, rejection. I didn’t feel heard. I didn’t feel like I mattered. And when rage took over, I felt ashamed of the destruction, yet unsure how to stop it, almost like I didn’t understand what was happening, or how I lost control so easily.

    The Turning Point

    The turning point came when I began noticing how my reactions and outbursts were affecting the people around me.

    When I first started trying to change, it felt so uncomfortable. Even now, writing about it, I’m squirming in my chair. Starting a new pattern is awkward. It can feel like you’re betraying yourself. That’s why so many people stay stuck.

    When anger rises and the thought enters your mind, “This is anger,” or “I need to take a break,” you’re in the moment of choice. For me, that meant convincing every atom in my body to pause. My rational mind told me to walk away. My emotional mind screamed, “If you stop, the other person wins. The problem won’t get solved.”

    But here’s the truth: that messy middle is where the rewiring begins.

    It all Starts with Noticing

    It started with noticing—recognizing when my body was shifting. A clenched jaw. A hot face. Racing thoughts. I began naming it: “I’m getting angry.” That moment of awareness gave me a sliver of choice.

    I tried taking breaks. At first, I didn’t know how. I’d storm out, slam doors, cry in the bathroom. But slowly, I learned to say, “I need 15 minutes to calm down. I’ll come back when I can think clearly.”

    Did I do it perfectly? No. Sometimes I raised my voice anyway. Sometimes I didn’t return when I said I would. But every attempt planted a seed. I messed up. I tried again.

    Gaining More Insight

    And something surprising happened along the way…

    I realized not everyone could hold space for my emotions, even when I expressed them calmly. Some deflected, gaslit, changed the subject, or blamed everything on me. That was painful, but also clarifying.

    Emotional regulation helped me see who was safe enough to hear my truth and who wasn’t.

    So I kept going. I kept practicing. I learned to take breaks before the breaking point. I learned to speak up, even while flooded with emotion. And most importantly, I learned to sit in that messy middle without letting shame swallow me whole.

    That was The Old Me

    Now, I’m grateful that these old feelings feel foreign. It shows how far I’ve come.

    I remind myself: I am safe. I am calm. I am different. I make healthier choices now.

    The scars the rage monster left behind? They’re still there, just under the surface, but they don’t own me anymore.

    I’ve learned to pause. To notice the rising heat. To respond with intention. I use my voice with care. I take breaks when I need them. I repair when I misstep. I don’t let shame write the story.

    I still have work to do. I can still be sharp. But I no longer explode. I no longer hurt people just to release what I’m feeling.

    That was the old me.

    And now? She’s grounded, aware, and in control.

    And I’m so proud of her.

  • Emotion First Aid: Anger

    Emotion First Aid: When Anger Consumes

    Anger often simmers just beneath the surface. What begins as a mild irritation can rapidly escalate—shifting from discomfort to overtaking our ability to think or respond clearly. The volcano can erupt and splatter heated words and poor intentions like a lava flow.

    Here are a few core skills that can help you pause, regulate, and regain control when anger begins to rise. These skills suggested here will be most effective in interpersonal conversations; talking with a loved one, a friend, or even an employer. The skills listed below work most effectively when we can catch the anger rising. They do require careful communication, while in the heat of the moment, which can make or break the plan. 

    The plan includes four parts: notice when anger is rising, communicate your need to calm down, step away and take a break, and then return to the conversation. This might seem too easy, but of course, all things on paper are easy. It’s when the emotions are elevated that this plan can get a little out of whack. And the hardest part is that the only time we can practice this anger management plan is when anger is present. It takes time to rewire and change our patterns. Try and try again.

    The Plan

    • Notice when anger is rising in the body.
    • Communicate your need to calm down
    • Step away and take a break
    • Return to the conversation

    Notice When Anger is Rising

    The goal during an argument is to express  your frustrations or the thing that upset us, but in a way where we remain in control of our thoughts and emotions. Learning the subtle changes in our bodies as anger rises is the most effective way to tame the rage monster. When we feel our hearts beginning to beat faster, our faces turning hot and breathing that is shallow, this is the time to step in and utilize some skills.

    In a previous post, “Emotional Regulation: Anger,” I shared how anger can show up in the body. In my opinion anger is the emotion we need to become acquainted with and understand how it shows up in our body before we can move skillfully through it before it spirals to rage.

    Communicate Your Need to Calm Down: 

    If you are anything like me, shouting aggressively seems to come naturally to me when anger surfaces.  The end goal is not to let anger take over. So continuing to use a calm voice is a healthy choice. You are allowed and encouraged to express yourself and your emotions, but there is not a reason to raise your voice. Yes it happens, but as soon as we raise our voice we begin to lose control and risk spewing off hateful words that we don’t really mean.  If and when you find yourself in an argument and things are getting intense, try using the phrase, “I am feeling pretty heated, I am going to take a short 15-20  minute break.” 

    If more explanation is needed or the other individual shares that you are walking away or abandoning the conversation you can elaborate more, “this issue is important to me, but communicating my needs clearly and remaining in control of my emotions is just as important. In order to regulate my emotions, I need to take a break.”  

    I will state that it is super important to communicate that you will return to the conversation and set a time, say 15-30 minutes. If you or the other party is still feeling unregulated it is okay to extend the break or even revisit the issue the next day.

    Take a Break:

    Taking a break is a healthy way to allow yourself the time and space to deep breathe and work towards slowing your heart rate and your racing mind. During a short break go for a short brisk walk, tighten your muscles and then release them. Grab a cold drink of water. Basically find a way to change your body temperature and slow yourself down. The body can begin regulating in as little as 20 minutes, but each person is different-some need more time, some need less time. The goal here is to take a break long enough to allow yourself and your body to return to calm.

    Returning To The Conversation

    We are not returning where we left off, things got heated and that’s why we needed to communicate our need to take a break. When returning to the conversation it is always a good bet to openly communicate that you feel calm and ready to return to the conversation, but also to check to see if the other person is also taking the time to regulate themselves. 

    I want to mention that Returning to the conversation is one way to build trust. Resolving the issue is important to maintain and repair issues in a relationship, friendship or with a family member. Sometimes the end result, when compromise and resolutions can’t be agreed upon, understanding and agreeing that maybe we need to agree that we disagree can be an acceptable conclusion or settlement.

    After using some skills and returning to “normal” you can resume the conversation. Sometimes the difficult conversations will escalate again and again, use these skills as many times as you need to keep yourself out of rage mode and spiraling out of control.  At first these skill will feel clumsy and awkward, but with time and practice these skills will come second nature to you. 

    Looking Forward

    Tomorrow I plan to share my own personal journey through these skills- I will give you a little snippet and let you know that during arguments I was so far gone, so out of control that it actually took several attempts to even achieve the skills of communication and taking a break. I had to work backwards. If this sounds like you or you share a similar struggle, tune in tomorrow to see these skills in action.

  • Emotional First Aid: Sadness

    Grief and loss are never easy to move through. However, they can be navigated with grace, hope, and support. Today, I want to share my lived experience of maneuvering and walking alongside grief.

    Wearing the Emotion

    When I was experiencing sadness, I had a habit of wearing the emotion. If I was sad, I believed that sadness was all I was allowed to be. So I cried, I stayed in bed, and I sat with my sadness. That became my entire world.

    Consequently, the problems that arose were too many to count. I lost motivation. I didn’t eat because I wasn’t hungry. I didn’t laugh because I thought it would be a betrayal of what I had lost. This went on for several months.

    I had forgotten that the person I lost would have seen me in that state and thought, “‘Come on, don’t do this to yourself.” Of course, they would’ve wanted me to live my life to the fullest and have joy,  but in the deepest throes of mourning, it felt as if I was frozen in grief, unable to live.

    Gaining Insight and Truth

    It took several gentle conversations with my support human before things slowly began to shift. I learned that the pain was too much to bear—it was supposed to be too much.  The amount that I was hurting was equal to the amount of love I shared with the person I lost. But I learned there was another way of handling and maneuvering through the loss.

    One day, someone offered me this metaphor: “When you put your hand on a hot stove, you immediately pull it away. But with sadness, you left your hand there.”

    I wasn’t literally burning my hand—but emotionally, I was. I kept myself in that pain without even realizing I could shift. I was gently reminded not to leave my hand on the stove.

    Practicing the Skills

    That’s when I was introduced to skills—ways of leaning into the discomfort for a time, and then leaning out again. For me, the skill of distraction worked wonders. I was encouraged to try things that might help me get my mind off the constant pain of loss.

    I found a simple hobby: diamond dotting- A meditative hobby where you place tiny colored gems onto a canvas, one by one. At first, I cried while doing it. But it required just enough focus that it gave my mind a break from the overwhelming grief. I’d place each tiny gem on the canvas, one at a time, and the rhythm of it helped me breathe again.

    I’d work on it for a while, then get up and do something else. When the sadness washed over me, I let it. But only for a time. Then I returned to the diamond dotting. Little by little, life started moving again. My heart started healing.

    New & Healthy Pattern

    I was giving myself space to grieve—but not letting the grief consume me. And eventually, that became my way of processing loss.

    Years later, when another wave of grief hit me, something beautiful happened. The pattern returned. I was able to function through the grief while still honoring it. I created something beautiful while thinking about the person I had lost. And when it was finished, I held it in my hands and whispered, “I made this for you. While missing you. While healing through you.”

    That project didn’t erase my grief. But it reminded me that I can create through my loss. I can live without betraying what I loved.

    A dear friend of mine once shared their own grieving ritual; When they’re grieving, they go outside and find a new place to sit and birdwatch—somewhere unfamiliar. It forces them to focus on their surroundings. And in that space, they’ve spotted birds and creatures they’ve never seen before. It gives their brain something else to engage with.

    Hope Moving Forward

    That’s what healing can look like.

    We don’t have to stay on the stove.
    We don’t have to stop feeling to start living.
    We just have to find one small thing that lets us breathe through the loss. If one thing doesn’t help—try something else.
    Your process is allowed to be messy, gentle, quiet, creative, slow.
    But you’re allowed to try. You’re allowed to live.

    I’ve learned to walk alongside grief instead of letting it pull me under. There are still days when sadness crashes over me. When sadness arises, I simply ask, “Hey there, grief. What do you want to show me today?”

    Grief doesn’t go away. But we can learn to live with it in a way that honors our loss and celebrates our life. You don’t have to walk through this alone.

  • Emotional First-Aid: For Grief

    When Grief Feels Like a Sink-Hole

    Sadness—no matter the reason—can feel like a heavy blow. Like getting knocked down with the wind taken from your lungs. For some, it can feel like your heart is breaking into pieces. When grief and gloom wash over us, they can alter the way we move through daily life. (Click here to read more about sadness.)

    And yet, the world doesn’t always give us the time we need to grieve. In most workplaces, the offer is three to five days off for bereavement. But grief doesn’t follow a calendar. It doesn’t clock in and clock out. Grief can pull us into a disorienting fog—sometimes mirroring depression. There’s a fine line between the two. Grief is often temporary, while depression lingers, but the symptoms can overlap:

    • Losing interest in things we once loved
    • Changes in appetite
    • Disrupted sleep—too much or too little
    • Difficult concentrating

    Grief is Complex

    Here’s what I believe: everyone grieves in their own way and in their own time.
    If you’ve never experienced grief, it can feel impossible to navigate. How do you practice handling something you’ve never faced? The truth is, you can’t truly prepare—but you can learn and practice a few skills that might help for when the time comes.

    Even if you’ve experienced grief before, every loss is different. Each loss may hit you in a new, unexpected way. So today, I want to share a few gentle tools that can support you during those moments when it feels like you’re sinking into sadness. I want to be clear: these skills aren’t a magic fix. They won’t erase your pain or end your sadness—but they might help ease it, even just a little. The more tools you have in your emotional first aid kit, the better prepared you’ll be to weather the storm.

    Four Skills to Practice

    1. Movement

    Now, I know—when you’re curled up in bed crying, the last thing you’re thinking about is exercise. This isn’t about hitting the gym or pushing yourself to do a full workout. (Although if that’s your thing, go for it!) It doesn’t need to look like much to make a difference.

    Instead, think of movement as gentle motion with intention. A slow walk around the block. Standing outside and feeling the sun on your skin. Five minutes is better than zero. Ten minutes is better than five. Small wins matter while we are grieving. Try to notice your surroundings—look for birds, blooming flowers, or the feel of the breeze.

    You can also try stretching, yoga, or a short bike ride. Movement helps shake up stuck emotions. It reduces stress, boosts your endorphins, and offers your mind a gentle shift in focus.

    2. Journaling

    Writing can be a powerful release. Journal doesn’t need to make sense or be neat. Let it be messy, raw, real. Don’t worry about grammar or spelling.  You can journal about what happened, about your person, about what you’ve lost. You can also write about the good—the joy they brought to your life, or the lessons they left behind.

    Reflecting on positive memories might even bring a smile through the tears. Write about how your life is changing, or how you’re feeling at the moment. Let your journal hold the sorrow and the sweetness, side by side. Example:

    “It hurts to lose my friend. But before she left this earth, she taught me so much about kindness, laughter, and resilience.”

    You might be surprised what comes up when you let yourself write; grief is complex. By allowing both the hard and the good to coexist on the page, you begin to make space in your heart for both pain and peace.

    3. Connection

    Grief can make us isolate ourselves. I know that’s my pattern—I tend to be alone… a lot.
    But connection is one of the most healing things we can offer ourselves.

    Reach out to a friend—not necessarily to talk about your loss, but just to chat, to hear about their day, to remind yourself that life is still unfolding outside of sadness. It can be a breath of fresh air.

    You might also find comfort in support groups. Hearing from others who are grieving can remind you: you’re not alone. Through sharing your story, you can receive guidance and care while offering the same to others.

    Professional support is another form of connection. I know this one can be hard—it might feel vulnerable to reach out. Like, “I should be able to handle this on my own.” But asking for help is not weakness—it’s courage. It’s saying, “I’m feeling this deeply, and I need support to move through it.”

    Connection can offer new perspectives. It can open the door to healing.

    4. Distraction

    Distraction isn’t about avoiding your feelings—it’s about giving your system a break. I’ve found that doing something simple and low-effort helps lighten my emotional load, even if just for a little while. 

    It might be:

    • A puzzle or diamond dot art
    • Reorganizing a drawer
    • Watching a light-hearted show
    • Playing a silly game on your phone
    • Listening to a podcast while folding laundry

    It doesn’t have to be meaningful or productive. It just needs to give your brain a different task—something that gently interrupts the spiral of grief and gives you space to breathe. Our brain and body weren’t meant to feel everything all at once, all the time. Be kind to yourself. Give yourself permission to use distraction.

    Bridge Forward

    These skills aren’t a cure—but they can be a bridge. They can carry you through the hard moments, so you can come back to your feelings when you’re ready, rather than wearing them or being consumed. Grief is temporary, it is not designed to be worn for long periods of time, if that ends up being the case the consequences and results can be more challenging to overcome. You owe it to yourself to choose compassion and grace, there is no need to rush grief. We can change our patterns and learn to ride along with grief with grace.

  • 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.