Learning to Thrive

In January, I started working with a new therapist. We paired up on Talkspace, an app I’ve used and loved for years. I had been taking a break from regular sessions with a previous therapist and wanted a fresh start with a new “safe space person.” I was determined that 2023 was going to be the year when I actually made some big changes in my life, and it turns out that Ashley was exactly the person I needed by my side on this journey.

(When I found out that Ashley was also a Chicago native who had landed in Tennessee, I actually screeched at my laptop screen. She gets me in so many other ways, too, but there’s just something about the Chicago bond that makes me happy.)

When we first started working together, I was feeling incredibly stuck. I was overwhelmed by chronic fatigue, weight gain, and other health mysteries. I had stepped down from caretaking in 2020 but still couldn’t find a way out of Tennessee. I had an enormous amount of debt. I felt lonely and abandoned. I was having stress dreams every night.

I didn’t know where to start, but I knew that I couldn’t do it alone. I was asking Ashley for help, and after learning a lot of other lessons, I learned to ask other people for help, too. Do you know how great it feels to let other people actually care for you and support you? It’s gosh dang life-changing.

Anyway, I wanted to share what I’ve learned so far (and document it for myself), so here are the four big themes I’ve worked on in therapy and how they actually helped me get out of debt, get out of Tennessee, rekindle my friendships, and find some much-needed healing.

coffee mug (decorated with autumnal foliage and a blue butterfly) sitting on the deck railing in front of a vibrant line of yellow and orange trees

Setting Boundaries

The very first thing that I wanted to work on was setting boundaries. I have a framed piece of art with the following quote: “May the bridges I burn light the way.” Until this point in my life, that was the only boundary-setting I knew how to do. Melissa Urban has an amazing book on this topic, and she always gives three scripts of what to say with increasing levels of gravity: green for when you want to gently inform someone of a boundary you will be holding, yellow for when you need to share a kind and firm reminder of that boundary and its consequences, and red for when you are enforcing those consequences (walking away, refusing to visit, etc.).

I had been skipping the green and yellow steps and just yeeting people off of a cliff with a red consequence and no explanation. 🤷🏻‍♀️ Once I started practicing the first two steps, though, I saw immediate improvements in every relationship. It's obvious in hindsight, but assuming that other people can read your mind and change their behavior accordingly is insane. And wandering around with resentment toward those people is doubly insane.

So for example, when my dad offered that I could crash at his house for a month while I did some job-searching, I accepted with gratitude and also clearly communicated one boundary: I did not want him to nag me to play piano for the dog. (Yes, I sighed deeply while writing that sentence, and yes, we will talk about it later.) He was a bit surprised by this request but was very understanding, and my time here has been that much more enjoyable because we have that mutual respect.

As Melissa says: “Clear is kind.”

Identifying Emotions

Once I started setting boundaries, I realized just how much of my life is spent biting my tongue and being angry about things. I was explaining this to Ashley, while trying not to sound like a murderous psychopath, and she lovingly laughed and took out her emotion wheel pillow. (Agreed, “emotion wheel pillow” is a crime scene of a phrase, but just bear with me.)

She explained that anger is a pretty big emotion and is often an umbrella term for more specific emotions—that’s the whole point of the emotion wheel tool. She then read out a few options: betrayed, disrespected, frustrated. Those all felt right, and by getting specific, I could identify that betrayal was an on-going theme in a lot of my stress dreams and nightmares. I was reliving past trauma every night while I slept—in large part because I didn't have the resources and the vocabulary to process my emotions during the day.

I have had terrible dreams for as long as I can remember, so this will likely always be my body’s default way of coping with stress and working through emotional experiences. But using the emotion wheel while I journal has helped me sleep better, and it also helps me communicate in my relationships. When you know that you’re feeling abandoned or inadequate or resentful, it’s so much easier to trace those feelings back to the root cause instead of just stewing about in a puddle of grumpiness.

Unhiding the Scary Stuff

Speaking of feeling abandoned, that’s exactly where my therapy journey went next, and I never could have predicted that. I had a cozy childhood, and I still love and adore my immediate family. I am the fastest bridge-burner in the Midwest, so I’ve never really felt abandoned by friends or partners, either.

But Ashley had recommended that I read It Didn’t Start with You, a book on inherited trauma. Not the cheeriest topic for a party, but wow, the science is amazing—how our DNA is literally rewritten by the trauma we experience and then passed on to our children and grandchildren. I was talking about the book with my dad when he confided in me about his own childhood experiences of abandonment. His stories allowed me to understand him more than I ever have, but in the context of the book, I also learned a bit about myself.

I know that my dad has made himself a promise to never leave his family. He has always protected us and provided for us generously. What looks like and feels like wonderful parenting can also be a trauma response for him. It’s one of those “both can be true” situations. And for me, I have learned from my dad—and inherited from him—the idea that loving someone means showing up for them before showing up for yourself, taking care of others rather than caring for yourself, and putting loyalty on a pedestal above anything else.

It’s why I stepped up to be a caretaker for my grandparents. It’s why I only stopped caretaking once my body was too broken to carry on. And it’s why I am notoriously bad at the next lesson: letting other people take care of me.

Asking for Help

As I mentioned earlier, the reason I started working with Ashley is because I felt stuck. I didn’t know what to do about it, but I was at my wit’s end trying to sort things out on my own. I only felt safe asking for her help because she was someone who was paid to support me—someone who willingly signed up to care for me.

This is painfully obvious now, but it took me until August to realize that I am actually surrounded by people who willingly signed up to care for me. People who have been waiting for me to let my guard down, so they could show me what love and care and support truly look like. That’s the definition of friendship. And I have some really, really good friends.

So I started leaning on my friends and family, and they responded with enthusiasm. I got help finishing my résumé. I hired a fitness coach. I was given a solution to my debt. I was gifted dozens of cards from people who love me, and I'm still getting more in the mail. And in the span of two weeks in September, I gave away or packed up everything I own and moved out of rural Tennessee.

I am no longer stuck.

And I guess the point of this is that I was never actually stuck to begin with—this was a journey that I could not manage on my own, and I am so grateful for the people who patiently waited for me to figure that out. To my friends, family, and beloved therapist, thank you for helping me learn to thrive.

Giving Back

Last week, I was able to donate blood at a local place in Cincinnati, and during the check-in process, the staff confirmed that they serve the hospital where my mom was treated before she died. She needed so many transfusions after her bone marrow transplant and in the two months that followed, and I was always so grateful for the kind people who made that possible. I became a donor that same year (2021), but this is the first time I actually felt like I was repaying the debt—and y'all, it was a really great feeling.

Call Me Irresponsible

Sunrise over a winding road in Tennessee with mountains in the distance.

Caring for Things

In January, I came across something called “The Minimalism Game,” a month-long challenge to get rid of one item on the first day of the month, two items on the second day, three on the third, etc. By the end of the month, you’ve purged nearly 500 things.

Now, I’ve been planning my escape from Tennessee for years, and I was determined that 2023 was the year I was going to get out. That was my primary motivation for paring down my belongings: the less you own, the less you have to pack up and move. I had also been making piles of stuff that I wanted to donate or stuff that needed repairs or whatever, and I was tired of being surrounded by unfinished tasks.

So I made the commitment to myself that I wanted to play the Minimalism Game, and I set up a list in my favorite note-taking app to keep track of what I purged. It took me six months (not 31 days, oops) to complete the first round, but my house started feeling noticeably lighter before I even reached the halfway point. I also completed a second round in September while I was packing up my house, and now everything I own can be shuffled onto a truck in twenty minutes.

Caring for People

A few days after my move to Cincinnati, I told my therapist how my health-related lack of energy in the past few years has really helped me to prioritize what matters and what doesn’t, especially with regard to physical belongings. She replied that I also seemed to be having an easier time letting go of relationships in my life and gently asked if there might be some correlation there. (This is where I mimed the idea of my mind being blown because I get very dramatic when I’m excited.)

Because yes, I have been hitting my limits so much faster with unhealthy family relationships and toxic friendships. I am like a bumbling baby giraffe when it comes to setting boundaries, but I am learning (and reading) and practicing. I say "no" more than I say "yes”—so that I can fulfill my few commitments with joy instead of resentment. And I overcommit anyway and get plenty of practice issuing genuine apologies when I can't be the friend I want to be.

It had just never occurred to me that letting go of things and letting go of people might be related.

Caring for Myself

Everything made sense once my therapist pointed out that I have an innate tendency to take responsibility for the things and people around me. This makes me a wonderful caretaker because I can effortlessly identify the needs of others and find ways to meet those needs. (It makes me a great accompanist, too—something I’ve been told my whole life but never understood until now.) And it’s also the fastest way for me to give away my energy and ignore what’s best for me.

So my homework assignment from therapy: pay attention to what I’m trying to take responsibility for that isn’t actually mine to worry about. And omg, it’s everything? Half of my energy crisis has to be because I am trying to be everyone’s project manager, therapist, cruise director, life coach, and best friend. And you know who secretly needs all of those things right now? IT’S ME. HI. I’m the goofball—it’s me.

Just being aware of this is already so helpful. I get to use my gifts when asked—like when my dad wanted help re-organizing his pantry, and I intuitively knew how to set it up for him—and walk away from problems that aren’t mine to solve. Because I’m not used to setting this boundary with myself, it’s still a bit exhausting, but I know it’s going to leave me (and my relationships!) so much healthier in the long run. And I’m really, really excited about that.

Fewer things, fewer relationships, fewer commitments. More time to care for everything and everyone I choose to keep in my life.