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In July 2016, I was invited to speak about a social issue I am very passionate about. In response to my observations of the struggles young adults are facing in this country (what has been referred to as the “Quarter-Life Crisis”), I have developed a niche in assisting adults of all ages discover their career passion and purpose.
You can hear my radio feature by clicking the link below:
This past April, as I was doing some cleaning, I came across an old to-do list that I wrote at the beginning of the new year. On this shriveled, orange post-it that no longer maintained its adhesiveness, two of nine tasks had already been crossed off. I read through the list and smiled, realizing I had completed the other seven tasks and could now throw the list away. (Side note - I once heard someone call a to-do list a “to-avoid” list and thought that was too funny not to share!)
What once seemed to be daunting, excruciatingly difficult and/or time-consuming tasks were now completed. Yes, completed :-) (and yes, I inserted a smiley face emoticon). I stared at the to-dos that once filled me with feelings of anxiety and overwhelm, and I now felt calm. Only four months later, some tasks even seemed… easy. This experience taught me that if I will at some point get through a to-do list, then I will likely accomplish the next to-do list, and of the one after that. I believe this has the same implication for you. How will knowing this change the way you feel the next time you write a daunting “to-avoid” list? How will it change your inner dialogue?
But as I continued to reflect on this exciting experience, I also was struck by how foreign it felt to me. I began to wonder: Why, as a society, do we so often fail to acknowledge how much we’ve done? Why do we tend to focus on how much higher we have to go, instead of how far we’ve already come? What are the consequences of seeing ourselves as cups half-empty instead of cups half-full?
What would it be like to account for what we’ve built, created, passed, and finished? What would it be like to make an “I’ve-done” list instead of a to-do list? Can you even imagine how long your “I’ve-done” list would be? Try it. I dare you. What were those daunting and difficult tasks you have completed since the beginning of 2016? What about since last month? What about since last Monday? This isn’t an easy exercise, is it?
Can we take this one step further? Why do we only recognize our achievements at finite culminations like graduations or when moving on from a company? What would it be like to recognize progress? Or to perhaps celebrate it?
Like many other therapists, I make it a point to periodically discuss with my clients not only their goals for therapy, but also the progress they’ve made. Why? Because that’s self-love. That’s self-respect. That’s acknowledging that while our lives may not be where we want them to be at yet, we are still good. That, to cite Winston Churchill, it took “blood, toil, tears and sweat” to get where we are today – in all parts of our lives, not just in terms of work or school. That’s saying, “Hey, we’ve done a lot.”
As I mentioned earlier, after reflecting on my completed to-do list, I tossed it in the trash because, after all, it wasn’t part of what society taught me was important to keep. Could I go back, I would have grabbed a pen, crossed off the other seven tasks, and hung it on my refrigerator. I would have changed the title to “My I’ve-done List”. Why? Because I have decided that despite being part of a current world that invests no money into apps, notebooks, and programs that help me manage my I've-dones, how I choose to see myself and treat myself is my choice.
I remember looking at that run-down orange post-it and smiling. I now realize that I was smiling because I had been feeling proud. And what a remarkable feeling that was.
I have come to accept that progress is not measured by size or speed. Small progress is still progress. Slow progress is still progress. When do you acknowledge your achievements? Will you celebrate progress? Will you add making an I’ve-done list to your to-do list?
Are you willing change to how you define success? How often do you give yourself permission to be proud of yourself? Do you do it enough? Do you do it at all? It’s never too late. What will you choose?
Would love to hear your thoughts! E-mail me @ chanelhalimi@gmail.com
If I asked you to share with me a time you experienced grief, you would most likely think about how you felt when a person (or maybe a pet) who was close to you died.
When we speak of grief, we think of death.
But what word do we use to portray the countless, more common, daily losses? How do you describe what you went through when your parents got divorced? Or when your partner broke up with you? How do you explain what you felt when you lost your job? Or when your family suddenly picked up and moved to another state?
What do you call it when you realize that your parents are not the mom and dad you so desperately wished they could be? How do you understand what you went through when you moved away from your hometown and life-long friends for college? How do you describe what you experienced when you or a loved one received a significant diagnosis?
Do we use the words Trauma? Maybe Pain? Sadness? Heartache? Devastation? Loss? Absolutely.
While all of these terms are appropriate ways to describe and understand what we endured, I suggest that we could also call it ‘grief’ or ‘living grief,’ a term coined by my mentor, Dr. Georgina Smith.
While grief is commonly used to explain a process when someone has died, as a therapist, I have come to believe that grief is also a process many of us go through when we begin to understand that an ideal, dream, or way of being has “died.”
Each individual’s journey through grief is incomparable, sacred, and unique. The purpose of this piece is to extend our understanding of grief so that we may provide a context or framework for our friends, family, clients, students, or what we ourselves may be going through. AND, if we can accept that this experience is grief, can we then also provide the same compassion, patience, and understanding that we give to someone who has lost a loved one? The purpose is to acknowledge that there are other experiences that we don’t have a name for, but analyzed under a microscope, I believe could have a very similar cellular structure as when a person is grieving.
While Elisabeth Kubler-Ross’ outlined the “5 Stages of Grief” – denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance – in response to her extensive work with terminally ill patients, I have found in my work that these terms also apply to my clients who are experiencing “living grief.”
As a therapist who specializes in grief and works with many clients who have lost someone significant in their lives, I’ve also felt the pain in the young woman who shared that even though she has two parents who are alive and physically healthy, she feels like an orphan. I’ve heard the sadness in the mother whose child will soon be leaving their nuclear family to start a new one. I’ve witnessed the anger and disappointment when adults recognize that their life wasn’t as grand as they hoped. I’ve seen the anguish when people discover that their bodies no longer move or heal the way they used to, or that they no longer look young, or as they have watched their parents have grown old. I’ve sat with the helplessness of a family when one of its members was diagnosed with a significant illness. I’ve met the teenager who is heartbroken since his parents’ separation.
Often times, it has felt like I am witnessing these clients mourn. When I ask if they believe they are grieving, the room becomes still. Their faces soften. Their tone becomes more quiet. They may take in a deep breath. They sometimes begin to cry. Some smile and tell me they feel relieved. Why? Because they feel seen and understood, and now have words to capture and make sense of their experience.
Like the grief experience of death, living grief is real. We all experience it. We all are impacted by it. And while the feelings we experience may never fully leave us, we do evolve and heal over time, as we continue to learn to live in this new way of being.
