I have a secret. I'm a recovering people pleaser. Yup. I used to bend over backwards and even circle back around to make people happy. I would constantly sacrifice myself and sacrifice my family. I wanted to make everyone happy and have everyone to like me.

I ruined myself being a "people pleaser." I also damaged my relationships that mattered. The people who were repeatedly taking from me weren't my true friends and family. These people may have seemed like friends before I realized what was truly happening, the lack of balance of give and take in our relationship, and my true friends and family suffered.

I learned my lesson the hard way when I put my family in a tight spot. I realized what I was doing to them. That I wasn't nurturing our relationships as I should because I was draining myself into other people, people who didn't care if I ran dry. I realized that it wasn't okay to allow my family to be treated that way and, therefore, it wasn't okay for me to be treated that way either. So, I quit the trait.

It's quite an adjustment, stepping away and setting boundaries. I've struggled with the guilt of saying "no." I feel ashamed and selfish and can get down on myself. Then, I remind myself to look at the situation from someone else's perspective. If I substitute someone in my place and play out the same scenario and come to the same conclusion that "no" is an okay answer, I can tell my self-doubting-insecurities that I'm not wrong. If it truly turns out to be a selfish situation, I change my attitude and my answer.

I use this same tactic of building my self respect and self value when it comes to people's approval of me. There are definitely people I desire to have approval from - family, friends and peers. That's just the people-pleaser nature in me. There have been times that I've questioned my value because someone else doesn't acknowledge it. I've let their "disapproval" swallow me and deter me.

My biggest realization? That's on me. It's my job to always do my best, no matter if it's noticed or acknowledged. It's my responsibility to know and build my worth. It's my responsibility to set boundaries, keep them and react properly when they are pushed.  Most importantly, it's my responsibility to harbor love in my heart, always, for others and myself.

So, you know that specific affirmation you're looking for from that one person or group? You don't need it. Would it be nice to have? Yes. Would you appreciate and treasure it? Of course. Would that affirmation make you any more valuable? NO. You are already valuable. If you're thinking about and seeking that affirmation it's because some part of you already knows and believes you deserve it. Don't rely on someone else to confirm your value. 

#embracingme

It was dark outside. The type of dark that hangs over you, not the peaceful dark that lulls you to sleep with a chorus of crickets. It was a darkness that seeped through the windows, a silence. I lay staring at the ceiling. My brain was white noise; my thoughts were there but I wasn't really participating with them. It had been a painful day.

When I was younger, if I wasn't at school or playing sports, I was traipsing around the woods until the sun went down, sometimes even after the sun was long gone. I'm pretty sure I spent most of my adolescence in the woods. The woods were my solace, my resting place. I would memorize the mushrooms along the paths I took and watch their lifespan from birth to completion. I knew where and when to find the family of deer that frequented the area I visited. I knew which patch of wheat held the most privacy to lay and watch their stalks sway and talk in the wind. I also knew which wheat patches to avoid when the geese began their nesting. I knew which trees were most comfortable to accompany me for my homework, or my favorite tree from whose limbs I could dangle my feet just over the surface of the rippling water and the one that had the most comfortable limbs for napping. I felt at peace in the woods; understood and safe even in the darkness of twilight. I knew which path I wanted to take based on the day, the weather and the sunlight. I memorized each turn, each step I needed to take to get where I was going or to go back home. I knew exactly where every divot, root and hole existed along my path and the trees were my guide.

As I lay staring at the ceiling, the darkness hovering, I placed my thoughts in the limbs of those trees. I replayed the sunset and worked on sending myself to sleep. *pop* *POP* Two deep bursts alerted my ears accompanied by a few slow, deep cracking noises. Then, *crack* .... and flurry of snapping and crackling that seemed to increase in pitch as smaller and smaller branches of the tree snapped in succession. Finally, amongst the highest pitch, a muffled thud as the tree met the earth. The silence broke.

I'd heard the sound of trees falling many times before, as both the homes I'd known were surrounded by woods. I'd walked past, climbed over and through the map of broken limbs of newly fallen trees on many occasions. Occasionally, a tree would fall across one of my usual paths. This was nothing new but I anticipated finding the tree that had fallen. When I came home from school the next day, I set out to do just that.

I began out on my typical route and then headed in the direction I believed to have heard the tree fall. As I walked, sweating from the hot summer day, I thought about how odd it was that a tree should fall with no wind. It must have been an old tree, relenting to it's age and rot, finally giving in. It didn't take me long to come across the tree. I stopped in my tracks.

There it was. My beautiful tree; it's deeply riveted bark splayed with splashes of colorful moss and beautifully textured lichen. It's strong thick trunk now lay across the ground, limbs crippled and shattered, fresh sap oozing from its wounds. The dampness of fresh dirt met my nostrils, so strong I could taste it in my mouth. My tree had been uprooted. It's roots mangled, snarled and broken as it had tried desperately to remain where it had been planted - a place that it's seed had once found as welcoming and nurturing now rejected it. I was angry and hurt. Out of all the trees, why did it have to be this one? I sat down amongst the broken limbs, fresh dirt and sap and cried. I felt like I'd lost a friend, like someone important to me had been ripped away without my permission and I could never change it; things would never go back to being the same. That day the forest and I shared a similarity that I did not yet understand. Our landscapes had both changed.

Fifteen years have passed and I haven't thought about that tree in a very long time. I've moved, gone to college, gotten married, started my own business and, in between the peaks, I've experienced loss, death, betrayal; I've experienced pain and I've caused it. I've been an active participant in this whole "life" experience. Then, today, almost out of the blue I thought about my tree. 

Last week I attended a class on "Native Ferns of North Carolina." I partially went because "Fern" is part of my business name and I was geeking about it but, I mainly went because I wanted to learn how to better care for my ferns and keep them healthy and luscious. I've been learning more about ferns, digging into their care, their growth, the different types of ferns, sporing patterns, personalities and this was a great opportunity to be a bit more hands on.

The speaker was a jovial woman who is passionate about plants and conservation. She made the rather scientific terminology sound appealing and relatable and, as she spoke, I kept having these moments of parallel. "Ferns are pioneers in disturbed habitats," she said. My brain went into max absorption mode as she continued, "fern seeds seek bare earth, such as where a tree has been uprooted." My mind flooded as she began to talk about how ferns are hearty and adaptive, that they hybridize in order to survive and can exist in a variety of habitats, from rainforests to deserts; that fern seeds need fungi and "gross" dirt to nourish their growth and can often be found growing amongst other decaying plants. There it was, plain as day, these fern patterns reflected in our human journeys. 

How often it is that we find ourselves uprooted, painfully removing portions of our life which no longer fit. Sometimes we realize what's bogging us down and impeding our growth and sometimes we don't. They can be habits, people, places, emotions, memories, experiences. Whether we decide to remove these hinderances or whether they are removed for us, once they are gone, the soil of our lives is ready for new growth. In our growth, we may make decisions that don't make sense to anyone but ourselves, like a tree falling without wind or age. We may walk away from people, friendships or jobs which will instigate people to view us differently. Most importantly, we will begin to view ourselves differently. Just like the roots and branches of my tree, this removal can be painful and disrupting but it's part of expanding and becoming the stronger, better versions of ourselves.

I skipped an important part of the story about my tree. You see, my relationship with that tree didn't end when I found it broken. I spent time with it as it decomposed, breaking down into the soil and giving room for life. I watched birds carry it's leaves and small twigs to make their nests. I watched mushrooms and fungus take root and thrive, weaving themselves through the deep rivets of the bark creating beautiful patterns and homes for little bugs and creatures. I even watched as a tiny forest of ferns made a home in the fresh, open earth where my tree's roots used to live. Until the day I uprooted and moved from that house, I watched the tree that had once supported me, held me safe as I slept, given me a new perspective to see beauty, and been my confidante transform from it's pain and become breathtakingly beautiful in a way I could never have seen if it hadn't have fallen first.

We have the strength to adapt to our situations and surroundings, to survive and fight to live. We can create growth in our landscapes - whether they are deserts or forests. We can take a dark, gross situation - all covered in fungi and death - and cultivate flourishing beauty. Whether we made the decision for removal or not, we have the opportunity to create new growth, sustain our surroundings and create something that is beautiful. This growth is painful but it will be peaceful as we begin to recognize our true potential - our most beautiful selves.

I literally started this blog by taking a massive, slow, deep breath in followed by a slow breath out to get my mind in the right place. You see, seeing that my last blog post was back on the 30th of May made me slightly stressed. With my deep breath in though, and even as the continue deep breathing as I write, it's so much easier to focus on all of the good things that have happened and all of the progress that has been made in that 16 day gap. 

So often we get wrapped up in all of the ways we failed or in everything we've done wrong. We minimize our progress and growth because we aren't exactly where we want to be in this moment. By doing that, by letting ourselves be overwhelmed, we are also giving up our joy and strength. 

No matter what you've failed with, no matter the mistakes you've made, your shortcomings or your missteps - you don't have to live in them. You've been given the opportunity of grace and redemption. Just as we have been extended grace, we can give ourselves grace on occasion now too! 

It's so encouraging to breathe deep and know that I am more than my mistakes and short comings - even if they are as big as mistreating someone or as small as not blogging as often as I "should." And, yes, just like "with great strength comes great responsibility" the fact that we have the opportunity for grace and redemption doesn't give us the reasons to just act however we choose. We should always carry the integrity of our lives. 

In those moments of overwhelm where you feel yourself sinking into despair, shame and regret stop yourself. Take a few deep breaths and remember the good. Let yourself smile and sink into grace.

For the longest time, I thought massages were just for pampering. Now, don't get me wrong, pampering is an important element of self care. Honestly though, I just didn't get it. I heard people rave about their massages and I appreciated their encouragement to go and get one myself but, I never really saw a massage being for me. Massages only sounded like an expensive, awkward experience where you are in minimal clothing and vulnerable and you walk away sticky.

Then I had my first massage.

Let me tell you, my world CHANGED. I never knew just how much pain I was waking up and existing in. That first morning after my massage was illuminating. I didn't have to stretch for 30 minutes before getting out of bed. I didn't have to tenderly and slowly roll over to let all of my joints crack and bones settle with the fear of throwing my back out before my feet even hit the floor. I didn't have to limp to the bathroom barely putting pressure on my left foot. I didn't have to take slow deep, purposeful breaths to slowly loosen my shoulder pain that usually made it difficult to breathe. In fact, I didn't realize I wasn't in pain until I was halfway to the bathroom. Then, when I did, I squealed so loud I scared my poor beagle, Sadie, but I couldn't help it. I was absolutely flabbergasted at the amount of pain I had ignored and the freedom that being nearly pain free gave me.

Now, I'm a firm believer that if you say you don't want a massage or don't think they are necessary, you just haven't had one yourself. Or, at least, you haven't had a good massage. Not only do I now believe in the need for massage but many of my fears of getting a massage have been eliminated. 

Christina gave me my first massage and she is the main reason my fears were eliminated. The first step was very medical - which, I wasn't expecting but, it made sense. I filled out a form detailing my medical history and where I was currently experiencing pain; Christina had even created the form as a sensitive way to inquire about previous abuse. To some, asking about previous abuse may sound intrusive. To an abuse survivor like me, it meant that Christina cared enough to know there are potentially sensitive boundaries and she wanted to respect not only my body and mind but she also didn't make the question intrusive and ask for details or anything that would have potentially made me uncomfortable. Once I filled out the form, Christina took time to read each answer to herself and ask questions only where she had them. She then welcomed me to keep on as many or as little clothing as I was comfortable with and then to lay down on her table. She stepped out of the room and I slipped under the sheets.

The bubbling of a peaceful stream met my ears and was accompanied by the smell of essential oils. Intended to calm my mind, these atmospheric elements worked like a charm. The sheets were soft and warm and, to my surprise, there were a large number of blankets I had to crawl under too! The blankets weren't heavy or hot but they allowed just enough pressure for me to feel cocooned and covered - an effort for atmosphere I greatly appreciated. Then, Christina knocked quietly and made sure she could enter. Her demeanor was always soft and reassuring and I could tell how attentive she was to where my body felt pain and when it had had too much pain. And, yes, there were parts of the massage that caused slight pain as Christina worked out the strain in my muscles but it was never unbearable and it was truly therapeutic. The painful part of the massage coupled with the painlessness I felt the next day caused me to realize exactly how necessary and therapeutic regular massages are. It's why I am now a believer!

All in all, my first massage experience was incredible. Christina was amazing and the results were phenomenal. Which, is why I am SO excited for everyone who comes to Jasper & Fern because the miracle worker who has helped me so much with my pain is moving in!!

I hope you are dancing with excitement over this, because I most certainly am! Christina is one of the many blessings that have come our way since establishing and building up Jasper & Fern. She couldn't be a better fit for our community because she has such a pure, sweet and loving heart. She wants to help you feel better, live a happier life and to not be restricted by pain.

I truly hope you choose to try adding massage to your self care. Massage can change your life!
 

P.S. If you want to book with Christina, she's happy to help you out! 
Email : mckenzie.christina2012@gmail.com
Phone : 828-423-6281