Anxiety

Life Changed

~ Carrie ~ Leave a comment

For some reason this is a really hard post to write. I felt the need to write last week after therapy, but kept finding distractions. I’m not going to lie, the middle of the week was completely consumed by The Great British Baking Show. Worst recommendation ever friends and sister-in-law! (It’s not actually considered being lazy when I’m learning so much about things I’ll never bake, is it?) I also finished a massive blanket I started (naively) knitting last year thinking it would be fun and easy. My natural response to finishing that monster was starting a baby blanket for my niece. Because my patience wasn’t thoroughly tested with the big one…

More distractions…

This past week has been all about tough love.

It didn’t start that way, though.

In trying to get me to understand my inherent worth, my therapist told me to imagine my baby niece when thinking about God’s love for me. She painted a picture of cooing and kissing and smiling and snuggling with her just for being her. Babies don’t have to do or be anything remarkable to be adored. And neither do I. God adores me just for being me and living into the potential he has provided for my life. I thought about that the next time I held my little punkin and actually teared up. It was the first time I actually felt the connection.

Changing topics, after the realization that it had been one month since saying goodbye to a friend, I started feeling less angry for the way things ended and more thankful for the good times we shared. I was able to remember things I liked about her, the way she made me feel, and the hope she gave me. I saw her social media interactions as a trigger before, but I was starting to see a silver lining.

I think I’ve mentioned it here, but Rachel Hollis changed my life this past year. It started with the books and then the morning show and then the podcast and then the coaching and now the Last 90 Days. All of it helped me build up the confidence to conquer the things that have turned out to be the best parts of 2019. Well, back in March, I passed on my love of Rachel and noticed my friend start to follow her. Then a few weeks ago I noticed that she was now following Rachel’s husband (Dave), company (The Hollis Co.) and brand (Start Today).

Her likes on mutual friends’ posts still do trigger me, but her likes on anything Hollis related makes me proud. I brought that into her life hoping it would help her as much as it has helped me. And now when I’m no longer a part of her life (although, was I ever really? Don’t get me started.) that still is. It’s a mark I’m proud to leave on her life.

Changing topics one more time, today was the first time I cried in therapy. I’m actually shocked it took this long. Most weeks I go into my session thinking I have enough material to fill the entire time and am surprised to have breezed through it all in 5 minutes. Occasionally it does actually fill the entire time, but what I’m noticing more and more now is that the big, terrible problems I think I have are usually itty, bitty things that I thought to death. And today, I actually felt ashamed. I caught myself.

It was a hard week because it was the first time in my working life that I’ve had to regularly drive home in the dark. That meant that I couldn’t take my dog for our daily walk and forced me to adjust my routine. Good Lord.

My friend went to the church event I was too scared to invite her to. She’s been going to everything lately and making tons of friends. So go to everything and engage.

My aunt wants to bring strangers to Thanksgiving and I won’t have my kids to hide behind. They’re family. Trust them. Talk to them. They don’t understand me. Have you ever given them a chance?

It’s embarrassing. And sad. It made me cry.

I seem to have internalized every warning I’ve ever received and accepted it as truth. I’ve been told over and over and over (and over and over) that there’s nothing wrong with me. There is no reason that I can’t achieve whatever I set my mind to. I’ve just been coddled so much that I’ve never had to prove it.

There was never any discussion after college about moving home. I actually redid my room the week after I graduated. And two years later, they decided to redo my bathroom to my liking. My room also got a new paint job and carpet as a part of that project. They encouraged my involvement in their world and my dad was constantly making travel plans a year in advance for the three of us. I slipped right into retired life. I only considered jobs that would allow me to be home with them when they were watching my brother’s kids. And they never pushed me outside of my bubble.

If they had given me a deadline or made me pay rent or just outright kicked me out, I would have been forced to figure things out on my own and prove to myself that I could not only handle life on my own, but thrive. I’m grateful that they’ve given me a safe space and I’m sure they’re grateful that I consider them and their home a safe space, but this arrangement hasn’t actually been serving me.

Because we’re approaching our annual trip to Hawaii, my dad has been in travel-planning mode. He wants to know where I want to go in the next year and wants to plan our next two Hawaii trips. And I am just now pumping the brakes. I’ve told him my vacation bucket list, but I’m just now considering whether I really want to include them in those trips. I’m just now considering whether I want to be in a position next year where I can take 3 weeks off to go to Hawaii with my parents.

I’m slowly creating more distance between us. My dad was very disappointed to hear that I didn’t want to be a part of their Christmas card this year. I’m 25. It’s time.

I’m trying to lean on that newfound understanding of God’s love for me and trying to let that fuel me. I’m praying for wisdom. I’m praying for strength.

Stay tuned, folks. Should be an interesting ride.

Screenshot 2016-01-18 14.26.24

It Bothers Me

~ Carrie ~ 1 Comment

I wish I had people who took pictures of me. I’m the picture person in all my spheres. I’m the one who takes, edits and organizes all the pictures. I’m the one who makes the picture books for everyone. Of course I do it because I love it, but during my latest editing/organizing session this weekend, I was struck by it again.

I introduced my best friend to the North Shore a few weeks ago. We basically did all the first-time things, even though it was my sixth time. I decided that I like exploring that area with my parents more. But anyway, I was picking which pictures would go in a book and I noticed that I had some really cute candid shots of my friend, but only had selfies of myself. There’s nothing wrong with selfies, I love them, but it bothers me that it didn’t occur to my friend to snap a few candids. She had to know I was doing it–I’m not a very sneaky photographer. She’s also my best friend, meaning she knows about my picture obsession. But people are wired differently and I can’t expect them to think exactly like I do.

It just bothers me.

I’ve run into lots of variations of this lately. I put way more thought into most things than most people and it bothers me when they obviously don’t put as much thought into things that are important to me.

It bothers me to the point where my therapist suggested I be in charge of adding the sparkle to my birthday last month. Don’t expect other people to make it special, because they’ll never do it right. They don’t think like I do. I don’t know how to say this without sounding condescending, but some people don’t think as much about how to make people feel special. I have a few people in my life who really do try in their own ways, but it seems like the people I want it from the most just don’t try.

I’m still in the middle of maybe saying goodbye to one of my “best friends” because I don’t feel like she ever really showed me she cared enough. I forced the relationship from the beginning. I always texted her. She rarely responded. I was the one who asked over and over to hang out. She was the one who reluctantly suggested activities or restaurants a few times a year. She was also the one who canceled more plans than she followed through on. I sent her all the pictures I would’ve otherwise posted on social media because she was the only one I really wanted to share with. She was the one who would continually calm my anxieties by saying I was one of her best friends.

She was also the one who didn’t invite me to her wedding.

And I was the one who, through it all, thanked her for being such an amazing friend.

How does that make sense?

It bothers me that people don’t put enough effort into making me feel special, because it seems like that’s all I think about. Maybe that’s why I think about it. I know what it feels like and I want to make sure that no one in my life ever feels that way because of me.

Anyway. That’s what’s been on my mind this Labor Day. Well, that and tennis. (Poor Naomi!)

Time to enjoy the last few hours before reality hits again!

Screenshot 2016-01-18 14.26.24

Taking the Plunge

~ Carrie ~ Leave a comment

I am so excited to finally be able to say this: I started therapy last week.

As with most things, getting the appointment was more nerve-wracking for me than the actual appointment. I built up the initial call so much, that once it was over it kind of felt like smooth sailing. The anxiety went away and was replaced with relief. I had four full days to stew, but I was actually getting excited instead.

The nerves came back the night before the appointment as I was getting ready for bed. I shared my thoughts with a friend and her response was so perfect and meaningful. Other than saying she was proud of and excited for me, she noted how amazing it was to witness my vocabulary change since entering the personal development world. That felt like the biggest compliment I could ever ask for. That showed me that everything I was reading and learning about wasn’t just living in my head. It meant that it was starting to change how I talked about everything. It was actually sinking in and affecting my outlook. Which, I think, is why I was finally feeling ready to start therapy.

Just to backtrack a little bit, (I know I’ve talked about this along the way, but stick with me) I started this process last fall. I started seriously looking for a therapist at the beginning of October. I immediately felt like there was one person I was supposed to pursue. I felt like I was receiving signs that this was where I was supposed to start. (One day after looking at multiple bios, I actually did ask for a sign and the next morning in my devotional was the same scripture that was quoted in one of them!) I took almost 2 months just to muster up the courage to request an appointment. Of course, she wasn’t taking any new clients. So I moved on. I went on to request appointments from 4 more therapists before years’ end and was met with the same response each time.

I jumped right back in after we got back from Hawaii at the end of January with someone new who I knew was taking new clients. I even made the first call, but decided that it just didn’t feel right and bumbled my way right off the phone. Needless to say, I was feeling pretty hopeless at this point and was looking for any reason to give up the search. That’s when I really started seeing personal development as a possible way forward. I thought I needed to give myself a shot before jumping back into the therapy search.

The problem with that plan, though, was that my body had something else in mind. It played along for a few weeks. It let me think I was back to normal and in control and then the stomach problems came back. I decided I wasn’t willing to get used to that kind of life and there was only one thing left to do: actually, seriously commit to therapy.

As a way of easing back into the process, I decided to email the first therapist again. Directly, this time. I figured, if I got the same response as before, that was a sign that it was time to let go. But if, by some miracle, I was met with another response, I should seize the opportunity. You know the ending, she said she’d be taking new clients in a few weeks and told me when to call to schedule an appointment. I was pretty surprised, then I was downright scared. I made that promise to myself and now I actually had to keep it.

I think the week of waiting before making that official request was the worst part. I told myself I was going to call on Tuesday. Then I told myself I’d call on Wednesday. And I really almost did, before losing my nerve and making an online appointment request. By this point, I had worked my way through the system enough times to know that if I didn’t get a response by Monday, that’s when I would need to call. Just keep pushing it off, right? I was expecting an email, like I had gotten in the past with my “rejections.” But this time it was a call (on Monday morning) that I watched go to voicemail. The voicemail confirmed my hope and fear: there was an appointment available that week.

I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared and sure of something. While the idea of calling them back and actually having an appointment terrified me, I knew so deeply that it was what I needed to do. So without giving myself any more time to chicken out, I called. And to my surprise, instead of dread, I was incredibly relieved when I hung up. It took me a few tries to get there, but I eventually reached the (first) finish line.

As I mentioned above, I thought I would spend the next four days stewing and literally getting sick with anxiety. But, I had one of the most anxiety-free weeks I’ve had in months. Everything about it just felt so right. Right place, right time. The only hint of anxiety came from thinking about how to tell my parents. And as it turns out, I didn’t even have to tell them. I told them I had an appointment and they didn’t ask any questions. Which means that I now get to control when and how they find out.

I’m obviously not going to say anything about what happened during that hour, but I will say that I felt at ease and safe and heard. I know it’s not going to be easy, I’ve already experienced a glimpse of that, but I’m actually excited for the journey.

And now that I’m on the other side of the search, I can see that every stumble along the way made me stronger and more sure that this is where I need to be.

Screenshot 2016-01-18 14.26.24

A Girl With Anxiety

~ Carrie ~ Leave a comment

I am currently relapsing. It feels irreverent to use that word because I don’t technically have any diagnosed condition or addiction. I’m just a girl with anxiety.

After a few amazing weeks health-wise, my anxiety is once again making itself known in a physical way. As I remember, I was suffering with bouts of nausea for most of February. I wasn’t keeping track of exact days and exact symptoms, (which I am now doing) but I vividly remember 2 weeks of having a hard time falling asleep, not being able to think about or stomach a lot of foods, not being able to think about anything that made me nervous in any way and because of all of that, being very withdrawn.

March was all about healing. I worked on my body from the inside out. I cleaned up my eating (once my appetite returned). I was religious about morning yoga. I was intentional about quality time with friends. I went through every day looking for things to be grateful for because at the end of every day I would pick 5 things to write down in my journal. This was also a period when I was feeling especially fired up about personal development books (and when I had to wake up at 4am a few times…).

One thing I realized this weekend is that February was one of the snowiest months on record in Minnesota and most of that snow came smack dab in the middle of the week. AKA my work days. There were only a few days when I wasn’t driving through snow. Literally, the roads weren’t even plowed yet because the snow always decided to come during my commutes.

Another thing that was happening more often in February, (thanks to all that damn snow) was that I was spending a lot more time with my niece and nephew. I hate to think of them being the cause of my suffering, but let’s be honest, they’re kids and kids can be extremely stressful.

March was warmer. Instead of snow, we had rain. Because of that, there weren’t any spontaneous sleepovers. The kids were also on vacation for a week in March, which actually made me miss them.

It snowed last week. And because it snowed last week, I was home very early both days the kids were with my parents. And because she didn’t want to have to drive through the insane 24-hour blizzard, my mom decided they would be sleeping over in between. The night they went home, the nausea came back.

Snowstorm: check. Lots of time with my niece & nephew: check. I really hated making that connection.

But that also gave me a lot of hope because that was the end of the snow! I was done, right? Wrong.

It was nearly 70º today. It was gorgeous. I took the kids I nanny on a walk and we had lunch on the deck. Put one down for nap, sent the other off to school, spent an hour in and out of the bathroom, reluctantly eating soda crackers and doing deep breathing exercises. I literally packed a bag in my purse in case I needed to pull over on the way home.

What gives?

Needless to say, I contacted another therapist.

I am done. I am fed up. I am not letting this control me anymore. I got a glimpse of what life could be like for me, and I’m not willing to give that up.

I’m completely convinced that this is a mental thing. I can turn it off, but it’s really hard to get there when your body is telling you it’s going to turn inside out. My anxiety has never affected me physically like this. I’m used to the self-degradation and feelings of not being enough. But I’m not willing to become used to this.

I’m also not willing to hide it anymore.

Screenshot 2016-01-18 14.26.24

Left Behind

~ Carrie ~ Leave a comment

I just discovered a huge trigger of mine: feeling like I’m being left behind.

This has been kind of a weird week for our family and I’ve been trying to get to the root of my moodiness and I realized that’s it. Everything that’s been ruminating for the past week revolves around me feeling left behind in some way.

My brother and I are half siblings and his last grandparent passed away last weekend. His family lives states away and he decided to pack up his (quite pregnant) wife and kids and head out for the funeral. Everyone tried to tell him how unnecessary it was to bring the kids, but he did it anyway. And not to sound petty, but I was actually kind of looking forward to the possibility of spending the weekend with those little kiddos. Or at least more than an hour total this week. No such luck.

I’m also just not great with grief in general. My grandparents all died before I could form any real memory of them. The greatest grief I’ve ever experienced is when our last dog died. It was heartbreaking, but at the same time, I still had my best friend, my current dog, to distract and cheer me up. So I can’t imagine losing someone–a real human someone–who was a part of my story from the beginning, who saw all the jobs, all the moves, all the partners, all the children.

He seems to be taking it really hard and there is nothing I can do to help him. I feel like it’s not even my place, because this is his other family. It’s not even like this is the in-laws. It’s his family, but not ours. He remembers our grandparents and my grandparents, but I don’t. I remember his. And I feel like I’m not allowed to mourn that.

On a happier note, my aunts (yes, the aunts that came to Hawaii with us) called us up a few days ago to inform us that they were heading out our way to celebrate one of their birthdays this weekend and would be in need of our guest rooms. The birthday girl’s daughters are coming along and we’re going to spend the day at an arboretum, shopping, and celebrating at a tiki bar!

I was thinking about reaching out to my cousin’s daughter (who is only 4 days younger than me–comes with the territory when you’re the youngest cousin by far.) and asking her to join in the celebration this weekend so we could sneak off and talk. We were inseparable when we were little and then drifted apart at some point during our teenage years. Like so many of my relationships that ended, I could never figure out why it happened. It would be interesting to hear her side. But I’ve tried to reach out and she never responds, so I don’t want to push it. Sure enough, I feel like she left me behind. I’ve always felt more mature than her, but now she’s married and has a daughter of her own and I feel like she’s probably matured more lately out of necessity.

It’s all just stirring up a lot of feelings right now, because I’m feeling it within myself. I mean, how could I not when I immerse myself in the world of personal development? I can dream about my perfect life and I can even come up with parts of a plan to get there, but actually doing it? Actually starting? Yeah, that’s just too scary.

I have always been terrified of change. I’m terrified of more responsibility and failure. I am so privileged right now and it’s a hard thing to give up. I don’t want to have to start over and fail over and over to get back to where I am.

I had dinner with my best friend last weekend and she is starting to voice her frustrations with living at home and thinking about what she wants her career to look like in 10 years and how to start getting to that place.

But if she goes, who do I have left?

Everyone is leaving me behind.

Most of all, myself.

I am giving my fear all the power. And honestly, this post doesn’t have a resolution, because I don’t know how to overcome this. Yet.

Screenshot 2016-01-18 14.26.24

Baggage

~ Carrie ~ Leave a comment

The teeter-totter continues.

I don’t know how to talk about this stuff anymore. It’s a big thing to put your baggage out there for the world to see. Even if it’s only a teensy, tiny corner of the great big blogosphere. Even if it’s only one of your best friends.

After causing what I might call a stink, I finally got to hang out with one of my best (and busiest) friends this week. I had made a loose promise to myself and to her that I was going to talk about certain deep subjects. I made a promise to myself that I was going to let myself go and just go with the flow. I broke both of those promises.

Now, however, I think it turned out exactly how it was supposed to. In the aftermath, I made some more bad decisions and, somehow, got the message and validation I was yearning for all along.

I don’t know what this means. I can’t sit around and analyze everything anymore. That’s one of the lessons I learned that night.

I actually had an anxiety attack as I was trying to fall asleep. I know that there are people out there whose anxiety strikes more powerfully and more often than mine, but that was a wake-up call for me. My mind is constantly playing games with me and taking me places it doesn’t need to, but it usually quiets down enough for me to be able to fake it and, damn it, fall asleep!

But that night my mind just kept screaming at me and replaying the days events through a darkened lens. I couldn’t escape the thoughts. I needed a release. I felt like I was possessed. I sat up and yelled at my brain to STOP as loud as I felt comfortable doing with my parents a few rooms away. I didn’t notice for a few seconds that I was sobbing uncontrollably.

I made no effort to stop.

I watched the clock as the minutes ticked by. After the longest five minutes of my life, I realized I wasn’t crying anymore.

A few minutes later, I received the texts I had been waiting for. One of them simply said, “Don’t let your mind start running.”

I don’t think anything had ever hit home like that. All of a sudden I felt very secure.

The next morning I woke up feeling motivated and happy. The feeling hasn’t really left all week and it’s starting to give me more confidence. I finally feel like I can stop trying to prove myself and just be myself.

My anxiety never goes away completely, but I’m starting to notice some triggers that really cause it to spiral out of control. If I can identify them, I can avoid them. Learning to live with anxiety is also a lesson in self-control. It’s definitely a process.

My birthday is in about a week, so I’m really curious to see how that unfolds. 22 has taught me a lot, but I have a feeling it still has a few more surprises in store.

As always, I will try my best to Keep Calm & Carrie On.

Screenshot 2016-01-18 14.26.24

Mind Games

~ Carrie ~ Leave a comment

I don’t know what’s going on in my head…I’m so uninterested in everything. Life has been crazy busy lately and I hate it. I mean, I like it in the moment because every minute has a purpose, but when it all stops, like today, all the emotions just overwhelm me.

Right now I’m feeling all of the little snubs and judgments from my mom, all of the nights I didn’t want to fall asleep, all of the innocent but hurtful comments and questions from one of the kids I nanny, all of the unanswered texts, all of the situations where I feel I embarrassed myself, the disappointment that my mom is actually retired, the heartbreak of saying goodbye to our llama and the fear that this is it for me.

I went through a period this spring where I really felt like I was supported by the adults in my life. Everyone I told about nannying would praise me for being resilient enough to handle that all the time. But now I’m feeling the opposite. I seem to be encountering more people now who expect a lot more of me. And I just can’t handle the emotion that comes with that. Because, I think, on some level I know they’re right. It’s like when people say it’s easier to believe the negative opinions of you than the positive.

I want to love what I’m doing and I know that this is what I want to be doing, but I just can’t seem to ignore everyone else’s opinions. I feel like they need me to move on and challenge myself, but I feel like I’m already challenging myself by sticking with this. It’s really hard to basically want to just be a 50s housewife in an era of female empowerment. I respect all of the women who truly do want to go out into the workforce and make a difference and “have it all.” But I’m not one of them. And I just wish that people would respect that.

My mom was truly a trailblazer. She was one of a handful of women in her class at dental school in the early to mid 70s. That’s a lot to live up to. Because of her persistence and determination, I feel like the people who have known her the longest expect similar from me. I don’t want to disappoint anyone, but I also need to do what I want to do.

I know, I know. As long as I am truly happy with my life, they will be too.

But my mind likes to play games.

Screenshot 2016-01-18 14.26.24

P.S. I hope to post a bathroom update soon! It’s looking incredible!

Breakthrough

~ Carrie ~ Leave a comment

I think I just had a breakthrough.

I have always been a very anxious person. I worry about everything. And then I worry about the fact that I worry about everything. No exaggeration.

Before sending pretty much any text, I have to reread it at least 3 times–are there any grammatical errors? Embarrassing. Is the wording perfect? Is that really the right emoji? I don’t want to be offensive in any way. Do I use too many emojis? Not enough? Ugh, again, embarrassing. Is it too long? Too short? Don’t want to drone on and be a bore or appear rude. Have I texted this person too often lately? Don’t want to look desperate. Not enough? Don’t want to appear uninterested. *Send* Why did I just do that?! They probably won’t read it anyway. And if they do, they definitely won’t respond. 

I need to know how a day is going to play out the night before. If I don’t have a general idea of what is going to happen, I can’t fall asleep. If plans change, it’s like the world was turned upside down. You want to try a NEW restaurant for dinner?! But I was excited about making a roast! Where is it? That’s kind of a sketchy area. What if we get lost and something bad happens? What if the restaurant isn’t clean? What if the food is terrible? What if there’s no one else there, so everyone can hear what we’re talking about? What if there are too many people there and it’s so loud we can’t hear each other? 

I used to be terrified that someone was going to break into our house and kidnap me or kill my family in front of me. Those were real thoughts that I had nightly and sometimes they seeped into my dreams. I can still remember one recurring dream I had where these thugs came in the middle of the day posing as some kind of tradesmen and they would threaten my parents and I would sneak out of the house and run as far as I could. But they would always find me. I would ask my parents multiple times before bed to check that all the doors were locked (even though we live in a very safe area). I also asked them to leave a TV on as long as they were awake, so I would know they were still safe. Every rustle or creak convinced me that those thoughts were finally coming true. There was definitely someone walking around the house with a gun. Because of those thoughts and dreams, I became scared of answering the phone and the door. To this day, I will not answer a phone call or the door unless I know without a doubt who it is and what their purpose is. (I literally hide from UPS and FedEx.)

I also have social anxiety. I’ve always been shy, but I think this goes beyond it. If I’m talking to someone I don’t know face to face, especially if they are in some position of authority, my face gets beet red, I start sweating like a crazy person and come this close to crying. My brain shuts down. I can’t process anything. If I have to initiate a phone call with someone I don’t know, it takes at least 45 minutes for me to actually dial and press send. I have to psych myself up. That’s okay as a kid, but it’s pretty hard to function in the adult world if you can’t effectively communicate with people you don’t know.

There were periods in my life when that anxiousness completely took over and smothered the real me. (I would prefer not to revisit that time, so let your imagination run free. It’ll probably end up where mine did.)

For some reason I really felt like I was supposed to learn more about anxiety last night (I don’t know why I had never done so in the past). I remembered reading something about Emma Stone being very anxious (finally the La La Land obsession paid off!). I did a quick search and came across this article where she talks about how debilitating it was when she was younger and a book she made to help deal with it.

“I wrote this book called I Am Bigger Than My Anxiety that I still have: I drew a little green monster on my shoulder that speaks to me in my ear and tells me all these things that aren’t true. And every time I listen to it, it grows bigger. If I listen to it enough, it crushes me. But if I turn my head and keep doing what I’m doing – let it speak to me, but don’t give it the credit it needs – then it shrinks down and fades away.”

As I kept rereading that quote last night, I realized that that felt familiar. It wasn’t until this morning when I started reflecting on it in my journal that it really hit me.

I’ve been thinking of myself as this negative person for years. But when I’m not listening to that little voice in my ear, I’m actually a very happy and positive person! I don’t like being a Debbie Downer. It doesn’t feel natural. Happiness feels natural. Laughing feels natural. Joking feels natural. Being hopeful and positive feels natural. It’s the voice that brings me down. I’ve been feeding it for far too long.

It’s made me realize that I don’t have a million huge problems, like it sometimes feels. I have one major problem that presents itself in a million little ways. And it always seems easier to fix one problem than a million all at once!

I feel like I can finally see the sun coming out from behind the clouds!

I don’t know how much this new outlook will change, but I feel a lot more hopeful than I have in a long time!

(I definitely reread this 3 times before pressing “Publish.” I’m hoping this will be helpful to someone, just like Emma’s story was helpful to me.)

Screenshot 2016-01-18 14.26.24