The beginning of March marks the month that I will turn 30. In an attempt to honor this decade (and to commit myself to writing regularly again) I am planning to write a series of posts of the lessons I learned in my 20's to close out this decade and celebrate a new journey into the next decade of my life.

Lesson #1: Your Parents Did The Best They Could

My parents separated when I was 13 years old and eventually divorced. It first took me years to acknowledge and cultivate awareness of how that circumstance affected me and shaped how I related to myself and others. Once I finally faced the immense sadness I felt inside it took me half of my 20s to process how what I needed as child from a parent was perhaps not what I received.

Our parents are always doing the best they could with what was set as an example to them from their parents in how to be a parent and the wounds and struggles they are sometimes processing throughout their entire life. When we fight internally who our parents are this ultimately causes strife and struggle within us. It took a lot of grieving on my own to grieve for what my parents were not, for the family dynamic I would never have, and to appreciate who my parents just naturally are and acknowledge all the ways that they did show up for me in their own unique way.  As adults at some point, when we are ready, we have to take responsibility to heal our internal wounds. Finger pointing ultimately does not solve anything but pushes us further away from ourselves and owning our perspective in how we processed our past.

The wonderful thing about being an adult is that we get to meet our inner child the ways we always wished we were met when we were younger. We all have an inner child inside of us. I have a picture of me roller skating when I was about 5 years old on my fridge to stay connected to her. Sometimes she is still sad and sometimes she needs my attention. In this journey in fostering a deeper connection with ourselves, we get to tell our inner child all the things they needed to hear when you were younger. So you can tell them how wonderful and amazing they are just as they are and imagine giving them a big hug and taking time to hear what they have to say so that they can feel heard, and seen, and acknowledged.

Our first form of love often came from nourishment from a parent so for the rest of life food can be connected to am I loved, am I seen, am I supported, am I heard? When our relationship perhaps does not feel nourishing with our parents or when we are not feeling those emotions and sensations in our life it is completely natural for food to then come into that space. It is when we cultivate awareness of our emotions around how we were seen and held as a child and just allow our emotions to be there without trying to change them or make them go away that our relationship with food can find a very different place in our life as we nourish and satiate ourselves emotionally.

If you have wounds around your parents, I offer this suggestion to allow yourself to feel your wounds, feel the pain, feel the sadness, feel the anger. It was in feeling these emotions and no longer pushing them down that I felt more and more connected to myself again. When we push down our emotions we disconnect ourselves from our aliveness and from accepting and embracing our human experience as is. I know it can feel intense but just like a wave does not keep getting bigger and bigger the more we feel our emotions the waves eventually crest and calm down into gentle waters once again. I want you to know I have been through that process and am completely here for you.

I have taken Robin Williams death pretty hard.  I have definitely cried more than once.
I felt like I grew up with this man, that he was a part of my family, and brought my family together through his movies (I have seen Birdcage more times than I care to admit). Here is a man who brought so much joy to the world and who secretly struggled with bringing that same joy into his own life.  I relate to that on so many levels.

Part of being a counselor is about showing up. I have tried to show up more authentically in this past year in particular because I also hide behind a wall, a facade of put together, confident, happy, and thriving. When I was in Grad School in therapy, my therapist actually asked me to draw that wall.  What did it look like? What was it made out of?

To my surprise the wall I drew was made out of glass. She responded when I was done that it was interesting my wall was made out glass because then couldn't people see me? I hide yet I want to be seen. I want to see and observe life but I fear participating. I have dealt with depression most of my life. I have seen members in my family deal with depression most of their life. I have gone to the depths of my soul mucked around, lied on the carpet of my room in my mother's house for two weeks straight before, and I always come back .

I have experienced how depression takes you away from other people, it puts you in a tiny black box where perspective is hard to be seen. I am lucky enough to have a few close individuals and a mother who were always there for long phone calls, crying, and telling me it is time to get out of bed. I have had to come to terms that the hole of depression never really goes away. Some try to fill that hole with medication, some use supplements, or food, or drugs, but it is still always there.

As part of being a nutritional counselor, I know I can use my experience with depression as a strength. I can sit with my clients in the muck, in the dark, in the depth of their soul and see the beauty and wisdom that is there. I see often in my work how so many are tying to fill this void, this hole with food. It unfortunately can't be filled with food, trust me I have also tried.

I share my experience with depression and that it still hovers around me from time to time to connect with you my reader. You are not alone in your struggles. I believe so many, including myself, were shocked about Robin William's death because we just had no idea the struggles and the depth of depression he went through on a daily basis. I believe it was a triumph that he lived for as long as he could with a secret dark cloud hanging over his head and a smile on his face.

I may not know you, but I welcome anyone to reach out. I have always found the thing that brings me out of my own darkness and into the light is connecting with others and lifting our spirits together.