How Overthinking Leads to Underserving

When a slight veil of coronavirus restriction lifted, my husband received notice that he could return to work. While the excitement for that bit of freedom was tangible, I did feel just a slight tingle of fear. Yet I carried on and cheered for the truth that this pandemic is just our right now and not our forever.  

That morning of his first day back, I drove him to the front door. Before he stepped out of the car, I looked him straight in the eye, and said, “You’re everything I have. Please take care of yourself. Mask up. Stay a healthy distance. Wash your hands. Do whatever necessary so when I come back here, you’re as healthy as you are now.” He smiled, kissed my cheek, and said, “Stop overthinking.”

As I watched him walk away, the mental floodgates opened, and questions flew in like a tidal wave.

• What if he gets sick?
• What hospital will take him?
• Can I go inside the hospital?
• Does he have his insurance card?
• How do I handle him being in the hospital and I can’t be there?
• Who will call me every two minutes with an update about his breathing?
• Will he have a TV in his room?  
• What if he’s too weak to hold a remote control?
• What about reaching the “call the nurse” button?
• Can I call him?
• What about his phone?
• Can he charge that somewhere? 
• Will he have Wi-Fi?
• What if he something awful happens and I’m not there to hold his hand?
• Who will hold my hand?
• Will the one woman who knows me better than myself fly to my side and hold mine?
• What if he dies?
• How would I ever survive that?
• Where would I live?
• How could I sell that house we shared? 
• What will I do with all those TVs?
• What’s in the basement?
• Should I take a video of everything down there? 
• How long do those iPhone videos last?
• Are there companies that preserve them?

Yep, all that (and more) spun through my head before I moved through the first intersection on my way home. 

This is what the mind looks like when fear strikes a recovering overthinker. I’m a racehorse charging out of the gate. One minor thought propels me into some twisted flowchart where I end up feeling helpless no matter what turn I take.  

Even after 18 years of continuous recovery from unhealthy behaviors that I believe protected me from unwelcome emotions, I can easily teeter on the edge of insanity if I don’t catch overthinking before that overtakes me.  

This is why a wide support circle is critical for people like me. I know any one of my beloved trusted friends will understand when I start a phone call with, “Well, you won’t believe where my head is at right now.” After shared laughter for the predictability of my predicament, I pour out my collection of thoughts into the loving hands of those who keep me sane. Per usual, an offer of gentle acknowledgment for my harried travel from point “A” to point “Z” is followed by the reminder that my day is always better served when I keep my head where my feet are.

Immediately I felt better. Coronavirus can’t keep me from staying in my lane of recovery. Help is always available even if that’s not in-person. I’m glad for the many years of proven experience to know how that works.

Of course, later that day, when I retrieved my husband, I found him just fine.

My life is so much easier when I remember that overthinking anything is the gateway to underserving me.

A Moment to Breathe

If you relate to what you just read, take a deep breath. The overthinking connection often brings about a sense of thrill yet also infuriation. We’re thrilled by the idea that we can get ahead of what might feel awful and yet infuriated because we know we can’t outsmart the future. That’s what overthinking is all about. We believe if we create enough scenarios we’ll better manage whatever emotion arises. However, that rarely works. All that does is create more self-imposed chaos and anxiety. The only way we can truly prepare for what’s coming is by taking better care of ourselves today. Breathe that in. Take another deep breath and consider what you’re thinking about right now. How long have you had that thought? A few minutes? A few hours? A few days? Have you considered sharing your thoughts with someone you trust? Take a deep breath and then give yourself the gift of alternative insight. Call someone. That’s the surest way to overserve your soul and underserve your fear. 

I always love your feedback! Free to share your thoughts below or via your preferred social media site.

Fight Alone or Flow Together

This is an interesting time. The coronavirus roared in with widespread contamination and without discrimination. The illness takes over people’s health and, with each passing day, people’s minds. In an instant, we skyrocketed from the routine of everyday life to everyday life without one. We grasp at hope with every news conference yet feel left in wonder whether we learned anything new or when this will all end. Uncertainty pulsates through everyone’s veins.

Those of us who overcame any unhealthy behavior have keen practical experience in this arena. We stood in this space before. I sure have.

By the time I raised my voice and cried out for help with a daily routine of too much alcohol and not enough food, the illness of addiction already took over my health and my mind. I shook with terror when people told me the required solution. I didn’t like what I heard yet knew things would only get worse if I succumbed to my fear. At the start, I fought suggestions offered because I wasn’t sure I had the ability to let go of what I had done for what I needed to do.

Uncertainty pulsated through my veins.

No one offered absolutes. Instead, people told me their experience about how they overcame what they thought they couldn’t. I grasped at hope each time. I could not deny their consistent and clear message. No one can do this alone and no one is immune to what may happen if resistance continued. The choice was mine; fight the truth or go with the flow. If I did the latter, chances were good that a healthier, more peaceful, life lies ahead.

Although the efforts were mine, others did their part too. We helped each other by being everyday examples of calm, healthy living.

I believe that’s where we stand right now. We’re at a similar turning point. We have a choice. We either fight the required action steps to overcome this pandemic or flow with them. What I learned over many years is, the longer the fight, the longer the pain.

So, together, let’s flow together, no matter how far apart. 

A Moment to Breathe

What are you doing right now to assure you add to the solution, not the problem? Take a deep breath. Take another one. Are you resisting for a reason? Remember, most of the challenges you face don’t happen to you, they happen for you. Perhaps this is a time to reboot, reframe, and recalibrate areas of life that need your attention. Remember, those small baby steps consistently taken will eventually add up to a long-distance of healthy living. Keep going. Keep breathing. We’re all in this together.

Please take a moment to share what you’re experiencing today. Are you fighting or flowing? Leave a comment here or link this to your favorite social media site and ask that others offer the same.

 

The Hallway of Change

Most of us know that change is constant because life is ever-evolving. Some people thirst for change and there are those, like me, who dig heels in deeper with a belief that what’s comfortable is just fine. Why switch from the well-hummed rhythm of daily life to learn something new?

Needed change rarely happens without some level doubt and resistance and silent stories that loop in our head about why change isn’t necessary.

I wrote and rewrote those everything-is-fine stories with hope the end would turn out better than what others predicted.

Sure, I drank too much, ate too little, controlled more than necessary, and stayed purposely silent in shame when I could have spoken my truth. That way of life didn’t make sense to anyone but sure did to me.

I knew what would happen when I engaged in things I shouldn’t and perhaps even more important to me, how to circumvent consequences. That well-choreographed dance of unhealthy behavior went on for years until the curtain went down and no one clapped. Self-destruction does have an encore.

For reasons I can only speculate and now quite grateful for, I grabbed that handle on the door marked change rather than the one which indicated my final resting place.

In truth, I stood at the door that promised change for a while. I thought a spec of courage would be enough. I fiddled with the doorknob only to drop my hand. I lingered there until one day I coupled courage with willingness and turned the latch all the way. I’d be a liar if I said there wasn’t part of me that hoped a lock would keep me from what I feared. However, once change comes calling in a way I can’t deny, no lock will keep me stuck.

What I didn’t know then but I certainly do know is, an immediate change wasn’t on the other side. Just because I passed through the door wasn’t a guarantee of something different. That much-needed step out from the fog of fear only led to the hallway of change, not into a complete change that I presumed would meet me there.

Although I could see a door in the distance, I couldn’t yet understand what the attached sign read. I considered a turn back or even investigation into a side door of escape. Yet, what echoed in my ear was that if I did, all the misery and shame and loneliness and fear I once felt would return in an instant.

So, there I stood, listening to the whispers hope and suggestions sprinkled like raindrops from kind and patient people who surrounded me. At times I shut my eyes tight, crossed every finger, and prayed that one of those people would take those hallway steps for me. I learned that’s not how the process works.

Personal change is an inside job, not someone else’s outside fix.

I breathed in what others suggested and embraced any required work for the change I desired. In time, I reached that once distant door only to face even more hallways and farther doors.

Matter of fact, I’m in one of those hallways right now. Even with years of practical experience that proved perseverance, willingness, and asked for help are the means to get from one end of the to the other, I still do not like being in the hallway of change. Not at all.

I feel like a newcomer in recovery, searching for that easier, softer, way toward a hoped-for sense of comfort in new surroundings. I find myself inspecting crevices of the hallway for a quick solution for my unease. Funny how I act even though I learned long ago that what I want, isn’t always what I need.

So, I pause. I find a welcoming spot in that hallway. I breathe. I look around. I listen. I wait. I listen a little harder. Then, when I feel a bit more confident in my next right step, I’ll make my way closer to that distant door.

I may not get there right away and that’s okay. What’s important is that I pay close attention to what I learn along the way. Once embedded, those nuggets of wisdom will influence my approach when life presents me with the unexpected and I find myself in another hallway of change.

A Moment to Breathe

Are you standing at a door of change? Are you hesitating? Maybe you turned the handle and now stand between the door you closed and the one that offers something new. Before you do anything, breathe. Slow your thoughts. Breathe again. Remember, whatever you face, wherever you are, this is not what you’ll face or where you’ll be forever. Put your focus on that next right indicated and head down that hall. Breathe again. You’re on your way. 

I’m interested in how you answer the above questions and if this post influenced your perspective. Feel free to leave me a comment below or share the post with your thoughts via a preferred social media site.

 

What Plates Need Spinning

There are days when I feel like I’m part of a spinning plate variety act, dashing from one stick to the other so that no plate crashes to the floor. The sticks and plates represent areas of my life. I put my attention on one only to find another wobbling. Back and forth I go, hoping I don’t let anything hit the ground.

Yet, sometimes things do. Sometimes they should. Sometimes, despite my deepest desire to control a balanced spin, my forced attempt only makes matters worse. Even though I learned the reasons why forcing things is never a good idea, there are days when I can’t bear the thought I messed up.

But, did I? Was that plate meant to fall? Do I give too much of my time and attention to things that are better left alone? Should my focus be elsewhere?

Long-term recovery and never-ending self-analysis prove the answer to all the above is, yes. I forget that perhaps things fall because they are not meant for me to manage.

When my life seems overwhelming and there are more plates than patience, more sticks than time, I take a deep breath, remember I’m not meant to spin anything alone and let fall what’s not necessary.

What’s left is what needs my attention.

I’m grateful that today there are fewer sticks with plates on top than when I thought more was better. If I had more things to deflect my attention I wouldn’t need to focus on the reasons why too much alcohol and not enough food would be reliable solutions for life’s ups and downs.

A Moment to Breathe

Consider how many plates you spin. Is something calling for your attention even as you read this? Do you find yourself feeling scattered no matter how hard you try to stay in the moment? At the end of the day, are you exhausted from the plates you kept from falling? Take a slow deep breath. Allow yourself time to consider where your focus is needed. Do you add plates to avoid pain? Are you afraid someone might see you as a failure? Take another deep breath. The only failure any of us will ever be is when we fail to take care of ourselves. Balance the plates that keep you most alive and let others fall. Once they do, you can exhale with a sense of peace that all is well.

 

This is Just Your Right Now, Not Your Forever

I’m so ashamed.

I hate being here.

I miss him.

She hates me.

That hurts.

I can’t let that go.

I’m so embarrassed.

Why me?

Why not me?

I failed.

I’m scared.

I feel so alone.

I want to go home.

I don’t know what to do.

Those sentences, and many like them, reflect a time when I found myself tangled up in an inability to control what I wished I could. Those moments of sharp-edged emotions seared clean through me. I believed there was no other choice than to grit my teeth and hang on tight.

Time stood still when I didn’t know whether what was happening would end soon, or if what I expected might arrive. Fear, embarrassment, rejection, and shame paralyzed me. I searched for anything that offered a quick-fix release of those feelings. While today I have healthy, reliable, proven options to recalibrate and course-correct negative thinking, that certainly wasn’t always so.

For decades, I relied on an untreated addiction to instant relievers. From a never-ended glass of wine to a sketchy relationship with food to manipulation and lies, the examples of their use are endless. I glossed over what hurt with what helped me believe I wasn’t.

Yet the day came when the magic of that immediate gratification stopped. The consequences of them became unavoidable. I had no choice but to feel the pain and shame and unbearable truth of what I hoped I could avoid.

Then, someone said something that shifted my perspective. The following words helped, and still helps, to exhale when I don’t even realize I’m holding my breath.

“Alison, this is just your right now, not your forever.”  

That sage suggestion brings about an immediate sense of calm. I’m reminded that what I feel in any given moment is not how I’ll feel next year, next month or, maybe even within a few minutes. Every blink of the eye and beat of the heart offer opportunities for reconsideration or alternative perspective. We never know when an overheard word, a small gesture, or note of music might bring about an ah-hah moment that could help push away an unwanted feeling and bring about change.

However, even after all these years I’ve heard and reminded people about right now versus forever, I sometimes forget their value. The list of examples whereby this wisdom saved my sanity is long and ever-growing. Even as I type this, situations are simmering that require I repeat those words in a mantra-like fashion.

Seems when emotions run high, what makes sense runs low. This is why I surround myself with people who help me find that middle ground. They remind of the importance that I feel every feeling I once ran from.

I don’t run. I stand strong because I now know that whatever hurts, scares, or belittles me, they are only my right now, not my forever.

A Moment to Breathe

What causes your fear of the truth? Are you reaching for things that offer a quick fix? Will a short-term choice lead to a long-term consequence? Before you do anything, take a slow deep breath. Take another. Is there another option? Can you acknowledge that what you feel right now won’t last forever? If you doubt that’s possible, try this tactical example. Find a pen and piece of paper. Jot down what you’re feeling and the circumstances that led you there. Tuck that piece of paper away and make a note to re-read what you wrote a few days from now. My sense is, the truth will be revealed that how you once felt about that situation changed. Practical experience is our best teacher.  

 I’d love your thoughts on this topic. Please leave a message below or feel free to share this post with your practical experience via a favorite social media site.

Life is Not a Dress Rehearsal

I got the call I knew I would and hoped I wouldn’t.

Relapse has two outcomes; a return to a recovery community for recalibration or further destruction of a life that once made sense.

I cannot un-see the sadness in the eyes of children left behind. I cannot un-hear a long-awaited exhale from a husband who left no stone unturned in an effort to support a wife after multiple tumbles down the staircase of alcoholic destruction. I cannot un-feel the mixture of emotion that exploded by the words, “she was found dead last night.”

On bended knee, my tears fell onto hands clasped in prayer. That could have been me.

That could have been me if I hadn’t paid attention to suggestions offered by people whose footsteps I follow on the path of recovery. That could have been me if I hadn’t put everything else second to the priority of recovery. That could have been me if I hadn’t taken the action necessary to rip that mask of deception off and reveal my authentic self.

I’m smart enough to know that still could be me if I try convincing myself that I don’t need to keep doing what I’ve done to get where I am.

The consequences of addiction are shocking only for those who don’t bear witness to what happens when someone offers a testament to what happened when that “one time” turned into many more.

This life is not a dress rehearsal. We don’t get a do-over once the body shuts down and the funeral ceremony begins.

Phone calls matter. Quiet time is crucial. Being of service to others is a must.

I cannot do any of this alone. I cannot rely on silent conversations with myself for answers to problems that keep me stuck. If I do, there’s a strong possibility that one drink or lack of proper nutrition becomes my solution. From there, I dare not consider what could happen. I’m not willing to take that chance.

Today I step forward as if this is opening night. I’ll suit up and show up for what keeps me on the path of healthy recovery. My hand extends to others who extend theirs to me. Together we can take a bow in gratitude for another day well lived.

Tomorrow, I hope to experience opening night all over again.

A Moment to Breathe

What are you afraid to say out loud? What stories are you telling yourself that keeps you from an honest connection with others? Take a moment and consider what might happen if you heard someone say, “I feel and think that way too.” Remember, as much as you may think you are, you aren’t alone. Want proof? Take a deep breath, gather that courage you’ve long doubted, and ask someone for a few minutes. That’s when you’ll experience the opening night of the rest of your life. 

Thanks for taking the time to read this. I’d love your thoughts about what I wrote or, why not share this post with those thoughts via your favorite social media.

There Are Two Chairs. Pick One.

Do you remember when age advancement was highly anticipated? We stood with pride at half-year marks and counted down the days until our friends gathered to celebrate in our home. I recall everyone enjoyed party hats, balloons, and games of fun that, at our house, included those my mom thought better for our young minds.

One of her favorites was a version of the memory game. A tray was presented with items underneath a towel. Once removed, small household items were revealed. Participants had one minute to study what they saw. When time was up, the person with the most remembered was deemed our winner.

Boring as that game was, we tolerated the challenge because we knew a fan favorite, musical chairs, was next.

This was a contest of strategy. We gathered in a circle around opposite-faced chairs which numbered one less than the participants. When the music started, a parade around the seats began. With great anticipation, all eyes focused on which chair would secure a continued spot in the game. When the music stopped, anyone not seated and one chair were eliminated. That parade-choice-exclusion process continued until two seats remained. One promised the hoped-for prize, the other a promise for next time.

Years later, I faced a similar challenge when the two chairs in front of me were marked PROBLEM and SOLUTION. I had two choices. Choose the chair that signified a continued effort to validate, justify and rationalize my consumption of too much alcohol and not enough food, or take a leap of faith and sit in the one that offered help to disengage from all that.

I paraded around those chairs in search of a strategy to sit in both. No matter how I maneuvered my foot placement, I could not make that work without falling through the space between them.

I had to decide. I had to pick a chair.

Once made, relief fell over me like a warm blanket on a cold day. That four-legged seat marked SOLUTION offered my tired mind, body, and spirit the longed-for rest I never thought possible. From my single choice, things began to change for the better.

Yesterday, I shared that story with a woman who confided she was in relapse and could not stop her downward spiral. Although she talked in detail about what led to the return of unhealthy behaviors and how that made sense to her, the tear-soaked face before me begged for hope. Therefore, I felt compelled to offer a glimpse of what happened when I stood where she now stands.

As she reached for another tissue to dry her wet cheek, I touched her arm and said, “You know, there are two chairs in front of you. I suggest you take a slow deep breath and pick one.”

She smiled when we walked to our cars. My sense is, her choice was already made.

A Moment to Breathe

Do you find yourself circling a readiness for recovery or to overcome a difficult situation? Are you in silent battle of the pros and cons between what feels comfortable and what seems challenging? Take a moment for a slow deep breath. Consider your current walk in problem-living quicksand. Are you willing to deal with continued consequences that often result from endless justification, rationalization, and lies, or are you willing to see what living in the solution could feel like? These are the chairs are in front of you. Take another slow deep breath and pick one. The exhale felt once you make that choice will signify if your chair is the right one. 

I’m interested in your thoughts about readiness and chair choice. Feel free to leave a message here or include when sharing this post via your favorite social media site. 

 

 

The Power of Inspiruption

When was the last time you heard or read something that shot a powerful bolt of inspiration through you? Maybe there was a quick turn of your head to listen closer, or a rapid eye-race back a few paragraphs to assure what you read still rests on the page. For me, the disruption to my train of thought is so sudden, the only words to bounce the walls of my mind are, “Wait. What was that?”

My arms tingle, my mouth goes a bit dry, and I scramble to grab a pen and capture what I mentally took in. In that instant, I feel a heart-to-heart connection to the words, the person sharing them, and the intention for which they are offered. Then, after silent recalibration, everything I thought about a certain subject shifts.

I call this experience an inspiruption. I am inspired to such a degree that my whole sense of what previously made sense is now disrupted.

No doubt I experienced these kinds of sharp-turn realizations earlier in life. Teachers, authors, friends, bosses, even conversations overheard in strange places, pinged me to reconsider things.

Yet never with such intensity than the inspiruptions that led me to gather up the courage to put down my (hopefully) last glass of wine and pick up my first healthy and full fork.

Once in the arms of recovery, I heard the words that to this day can send a shiver through me. Someone looked me straight in the eye and said, “Yeah, me too.”

That small sentence is, perhaps, the single most important recovery blanket of hope and comfort for anyone in recovery. When the sentiment is wrapped around someone filled with fear and doubt and shame, what happens next is an inspiruption of profound measure. The body language cannot be mistaken. Facial muscles relax, shoulders drop, and fists unclinch. I’ve seen this happen right before my eyes and, for me, is nothing short of a miracle in motion.

Many moments of inspiruption have occurred since the day that reaction was mine. These days I surround myself with people and pages that wake me up, pull my breath, or push a tear beyond the walls of my pride; all indicators that more light must shine on a subject subconsciously left dim.

If I chose to disregard these moments of inspiruption, the opportunity for change might be lost. I’ve come way too far and gone through way too much to start denying  what is undeniable.

This is why I strive to keep my ears and eyes on guard in preparation for the next moment of inspiruption. Practical experience proves that when they arrive, what I do next is sure to powerfully change me for the better.

A Moment to Breathe

What came to mind when you considered my initial question? Did something happen as a result of that moment of inspiration? Were you overcome with excitement or startled by fear? If the latter, my suggestion is that when—not if—this happens again, take a deep breath and allow yourself to peak around the corner. What awaits might be a solution for something you never thought possible. Feel free to share your thoughts or experiences as a result of inspiruption here or as you share this post via your favorite social media site.

 

 

Aw, C’mon, One More?

Last week, I sat in another funeral home thinking of the power we give to the desire for just one more.

When I was young, I begged for one more hour to play outside, stay up late, or talk on the phone. I asked my dad for one more push on the swing, one more toss in the air, or one more story. Although I didn’t know at the time, when I was denied these things, my parents helped me when I couldn’t help myself. They knew what I needed regardless of what I wanted.

When I got older, I pleaded for friends to stay for one more drink, one less meal, or one more minute to grab that gorgeous guy’s attention. The next morning, I silently thanked my friends for their strong suggestion none of that would work well for me in the long run. They pushed me from the very things I wanted but did not need. Once again, I was helped when I couldn’t help myself.

Then came the day when one more led me to the desire for no more. Had that not happened, I could have ended up just like my friend we came to mourn last week. Her one more led her to the last decision she’d ever make.

Addiction is not a game or a passing phase. Many forget that. I told myself thousands of silent times that the water rushing into that hole in my life’s boat was problematic, but there was always that one more piece of duct tape to cover what I refused to believe could happen. I thought my short-term solutions would take care of what was fast becoming a long-term problem.

Not a day goes by without some reminder of this insidious disease. I listen to story after story from people who taught themselves to believe that after some period of time in recovery, one glass of wine at a dinner party or one skipped meal during a busy day would certainly not become a cause for concern. Then, in no time, one more turned into many more and for some, the option to seek recovery isn’t theirs to make.

Life is not a dress rehearsal. We’ve got one shot at this thing. I’m grateful that simple idea called for my attention before the God I pray to called me home.

What lays heavy on my heart is that my now deceased friend really wanted the kind of life many in recovery suggested she might have. I know this because we shared many late night conversations about this very subject. That’s what is so heartbreaking. The words I heard of commitment and desire led me to believe something her actions did not.

As I drove home from the memorial service I cried. At first the tears fell for my friend’s family, in particular, her sister because losing a sibling is not a club I wish to welcome anyone into.

Then, in that moment of connection, I smiled knowing there will always be one more chance for me to offer one more person, one more message of hope.

A Moment to Breathe

Have you ever told yourself doing something unhealthy one more time wouldn’t be all that bad? Or, what about the last time you said hurtful words one more time to prove a point? Take a moment to breathe and consider whether those situations ever worked out as you hoped they would. Did you suffer any consequences—emotional or physical? Instead of regretting one more time, why not take one more breath before you do.

I’d love for you to share thoughts about what I’ve written. Please leave a message below or as a comment when you post this piece via your favorite social media spot.   

Are You An Emotional Fearcaster?

When something is about to happen that you’ve never experienced before, are you instinctively stress-free and calm?

If so I salute you because in most cases, I’m not.

What’s interesting is that I don’t fear the situation, I fear the assumed associated emotions. I lament about my ability to handle possible feelings of failure, rejection, inadequacy, confusion, remorse, or that I’ll somehow feel flawed, helpless, inferior, lonely, or flustered. Sometimes the list can seem endless. This is what I refer to as emotional fearcasting.

Just like the weather forecast is a prediction based on current conditions and not a guarantee of what will occur, I consider emotional fearcasting in the same manner. I forecast my future emotional state based on my current emotional condition and if what’s next feels uncertain, I’m mostly likely in some state of fear.

Instead of trusting a proven past of getting through tough times, I make sweeping assumptions and react rather than respond. I start to panic based on what I imagine rather than breathing in what I know.

Years ago my sought-after solution to calm my fear was a glass of wine combined with numeric verification from piece of metal that I was in control. That is not my solution today. Now I create a plan of action for myself not a plan of attack against myself.

Over time I’ve learned each day offers me an opportunity to learn new things about the world, life, and even myself. If I’m capable of that, then there’s every reason to believe how I feel today could change by tomorrow.

This is why I cannot possibly have a lock on how I’ll feel emotionally down the road. My perspective will have shifted even if only in a very slight way.

For example, when I started this blog. I feared no one would read one word I wrote. I was certain the comments offered would shame me for my lack of literary perfection, word choice, or grammatical expertise. I thought my experience with recovery wasn’t relevant for more than a handful of people. I anticipated failure rather than acceptance and held myself hostage in self-doubt.

None of that came true.

Then I think about the fearcasting I did before college, my first corporate job, marriage, and recovery. I pre-felt all kinds of emotion and feared my inability to manage them once they showed up. However when I finally met with each experience, what I felt was nowhere near the anticipated drama.

I’m most kind to myself when I stay open to the flow of things rather than resist them. If I trust my proven past to help predict my emotional future, fearcasting isn’t for me.

I hope to remain open by taking deep breaths while depending on a forecast for weather not fear-based emotions.

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A Moment to Breathe …

Are you experiencing an emotional fearcaster? What story are you telling yourself about what’s around the corner, down the road, or sometime next year? Are you relying on past emotional experiences to mentally describe how your future ones will turn out? Take a moment to breathe and contribute your thoughts with a comment below or when sharing this post via your favorite social media site.