I've put in a lot of thought and energy into developing systems and tools to help me navigate the world with more ease and make progress toward sustained self-acceptance. My hope is that publishing a snapshot of my "love letters to myself" can be another step up in vulnerability and rewarding risk-taking, and perhaps be of some use to you.
We made our own wedding decor to indicate table numbers for our wedding guests. After 4 years sitting in storage, I've repurposed two of them to contain a "raffle" of gifts to myself. One box is for weekday gifts—quick things like stretching, journaling, meditating, and giving myself a high five. The other box is for weekend gifts—longer form things like eating out by myself, taking a long walk with my dog, and going to a salt-water float tank.
Why? I found myself struggling to disconnect from work as I headed downstairs to hang out with my family before dinner. I wasn't present, and often I was despondent even when I was asked a direct question. I was stewing on all the things that happened during the day. These gifts for me allowed me to refocus on my own physical and mental needs while at the same time add some randomness and fun to end of the work day. The randomness helped it not become another boring routine I'd just drop like a bad habit.
What's a quick, meaningful phrase to get you out of a work-only rut? Mine is "I'm more than this job," stated as a reminder that my success and failure in my workday does not define me, and that there is a "me" outside of work that I can hold as a foundation. The signage pictured here has other helpful reminders, like taking focus away from outcomes and setbacks, and refocusing on the journey and what's in the present moment.
Seattle is cloudy. It has an impact on my emotional and cognitive state. I was recommended this daylight lamp, which has two settings: intense and not-as-intense. I have it in the intense setting for 30-60 minutes while I'm working, and in the non-intense mode for the rest of the day, making sure I turn it off by 5pm. My mood is noticeably impacted for the better. The alternative was a blue SAD lamp for <20 minutes and a warm roomlight. I now have the daylight lamp on even for weekend gaming sessions.
I have chronic leg pain trigger by sitting in place for too long. I've gone through chiropractors, massage therapists, acupuncturists, and physical therapists. What we found that works for me is moving every 20-30 minutes, standing at my adjustable standing desk but not to the extent I get fatigued, and stretching regularly, at least before bed. Lower back stretches have been my favorite to add to my toolbox and use them daily.
"Motion is lotion"—my physical therapist
Funnily enough, after I've optimized my workspace at home, I've decided to address my feeling of work invading the sanctity of my home, by just working elsewhere. I live a 12 minute walk away from the nearest WeWork. My company doesn't comp it and it doesn't have an ergonomic setup (yet), but it's been worth it so far. I get the benefits of a short transitionary commute, as well as a "body-doubling effect" of working alongside other people.
With a toddler running around the house, it became harder to find time for myself and with my partner. With the support of a great boss, I now take off the first Wednesday of every month. I spend this valuable time "dating" my partner, seeing a movie, taking a nap, floating in a salt water float tank—whatever I had been looking forward to or had been missing for the last month.
Living authentically and fully is important to me, but it oftentimes feels unsafe and risky. I get bogged down by anticipating every possible outcome or emotional reaction from myself and others, driven by fear of disapproval. What I've learned is that this fear gets in the way of living fully, experiencing the positive potential that life has to offer. So then the question is, what am I willing to risk to live fully? It turns out, there is a surprising amount I'm willing to risk.
From the book Man's Search for Meaning. In my nihilism phase of my quarter-life crisis at Amazon, I came to believe the buddhist philosophy of "living is suffering." Friedrich Nietzsche also is quoted to have said "to live is to suffer." This belief helped me through my crisis but transformed into a subtly troubling and pessimistic life outlook that factored into my next crisis. This quote is a personally powerful reminder to seek meaning.
Growing up, I came to believe that expressing hurt was a recipe for backlash, dismissal, minimization, and disapproval. This is not so uncommon of an experience, especially for young boys, it turns out. At one point, I felt like emotion suppression was a societal expectation for men, but with a lot of work I pinpointed it to specific moments in my life. I came to this saying after my second ever hypnotherapy session which let me visit a painful memory I thought was insignificant until I revisited it.
From the book The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck, coined as the Backwards Law. I am a child of immigrant parents who worked hard and sacrificed to survive and secure a "good" life for their family. Growing up, "good" meant being happy, and so my unhealthy pursuit of happiness developed. The Backwards Law reminds me that I've grown up getting it backwards, and has helped me develop a healthier relationship with my experiences.
This came to me after my first ever hypnotherapy session when I didn't know what to expect. Before the session, I didn't know I was even striving for inner peace. And not only am I permitted to strive for inner peace, but I deserve it. (We all do.) Through my personal exploration I also learned that a lot of my inspiration and creativity is driven by this evergreen yearning for inner peace and freedom to be myself.
My counselor has been a reliable mirror and a safe place to practice connecting with my emotions, associated memories, narratives and beliefs, new philosophies, and new language to articulate it all.
Group therapy has been a great place to practice boundaries and behaviors I would normally deem too risky, in a facilitated environment. It's been a wonderful new experience to connect with other men at an emotional level.
Changing habits and behavior is a challenge and requires recognizing and addressing emotional barriers. My life & wellness coach enabled and supported me through my personal journey in re-organizing my life around my values.
I've only done two sessions at the time of writing this, but it's been a surprisingly positive experience. It's a "get what you put in" experience, but the deep relaxation and guided exploration the doctor facilitates enabled me to reach places I would never dream of reaching in regular talk therapy.
I'm not a religious person, but I've come to find freedom in acknowledging my powerlessness over my addiction to codependent behaviors, and hand the reigns and need to control over to a higher power. It's been a heartening experience doing it alongside others through Codependents Anonymous.
I found that my physical health is directly connected with my mental health, affecting each other in obvious and subtle ways, e.g. lack of sleep vs my gut health. I found help through an allergist, physical therapist, and a chiropractor who supplements her practice with bodywork. I joke about how many supplements I take on a daily basis, but it's helping.
Amber Rae writes in a casual and approachable tone, supplementing her writing with pithy "posters" that have meaningful reminders like "It's not our feelings that are the problem. It's our relationship to them." I've traditionally labeled feelings like fear and anxiety as "negative" feelings which led me to develop my avoidance and suppression of those feelings. Amber Rae helped me form a new collaborative relationship to challenging feelings, like "sitting down and chatting over a glass of pinot noir." Fear is telling me something, it's time to hear it out.
It's been a challenge navigating my buddhist upbringing and the developmental model of psychology with my 1:1 counselor. Already Free helped me merge the two models into something that makes sense: life experiences are loops, but every time we loop, we find ourselves in a slightly different place in our development—nicely analogized with a spiral staircase.
My inner voice can be cruel. The Self-Talk Workout reminds me that transformation is a process and multi-faceted practice. My favorite of the six strategies from this book are "Inhale my friend, exhale my friend," and "Allowing all feelings, skillfully." The Seattle author helped me understand fully that my rumination and overidentification with my feelings were counter-productive, and alternative strategies that work better for me.
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