How Do You Thrive?

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I recently had a conversation with a friend about the differences between surviving, living, and thriving. My friend used the phrase “abundant life” instead of thriving, but we decided that they could mean close to the same thing. 

The last three years of my life, I would say I have been in “survival mode.” What do I mean by this? I mean making it to the end of the day, but not being sure if I can do it again tomorrow. I mean being tired all the time, wondering how many more minutes there are in the day before I can lie down. I mean getting the bare minimum done and not having time for things that might be fun or life-giving. Doing the urgent-only stuff, not getting to make time for stuff that is important. 

That sounds pretty bleak when I describe it like that. And okay, not every moment of the past three years has been like that, but there’s certainly been seasons like that, and when you’re in times like that, they seem to last forever. I may have walked the line between surviving and living, but I certainly don’t think I’ve made it to “thriving” very often in the past three years.

Three and a half years ago I had a baby, and obviously life has been different ever since. Two and a half years ago I started a new career, and a few months after that, I began online graduate school. I’ve been getting by, pushing myself farther than I thought I could go, being braver than I thought I could be, but it’s been very tiring. 

As I near the end of my graduate program, I’m beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. And I’m starting to wonder if I could move into a time of thriving. What would that look like?

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Change: The Only Constant

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Recently one of my textbook assignment readings was on the idea of change in the workplace, and how to manage people who were resistant to change. My textbook described a model of change using an analogy of a traffic light: 30% of people are ultra-resistant to change (red), about 50% of people are open to change but hesitant (yellow), and 20% of people are enthusiastic about change (green) (Porter-Reynolds, 2014, p. 13). (Thought I’d throw in a citation since I’m so used to doing it these days!)

I know myself well enough to know that no one would believe I fall in the “green light” category. I’d like to say I’m at least in the 50% “yellow light” category, but honestly I think I tend to fall into the “red light” category often. In a positive light (please enjoy the unintentional pun), “red” people are critical thinkers, looking for all potential pitfalls in new ideas before jumping on board. In a negative light, “red” people are stuck in their ways, never wanting to try anything new and always have discouraging things to say about new ideas.

While “green light” people probably seem to be the most preferable out of the three, the truth is we really need people of all three types. One type of person is not necessarily better than another, each person brings their own personality and experiences to the mix.

It does mean, however, that if I know I tend to be a “red light” person, that I am careful to not always discourage the “green lights” when they have new ideas. It means I must be sure to affirm others’ ideas even when I am critical of them.

(Side note: I think my husband might be a green light…)

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The Anniversary Effect

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Last week it suddenly occurred to me that I was nearing my anniversary – July 26th. For a minute I had forgotten all about it, but on a random Tuesday it hit me and I felt a bit sick to my stomach. Today is the 3-year anniversary of the day I was admitted to the psych hospital for postpartum depression/psychosis.

I like to take this day each year to share parts of this story on the blog, in hopes that it might help or encourage at least one person. For whatever reason, this year it is proving to be particularly hard. It’s like reopening the wound – healing has taken place, so it hurts to go back and poke around inside of it.

For those who are new to my blog, I’ve written a series of posts over the years about my experience with severe postpartum depression, which led me to admitting myself to a psychiatric hospital for a week. My son was only 4 weeks old at the time. If you’re interested in reading them, you can search the tag “Postpartum Depression” and find all the posts I’ve written.

That experience was really what inspired me to start this blog – I wanted to be open and honest about my struggles with depression and anxiety, and use it as a way to let others know they are not alone.

Before writing this next section, I went back and reread all of my previous posts, including a draft that I have not made public yet. There’s so much more to say, so much more to the story that is not complete. Someday I would really like to write all of it out, but it feels too hard today.

Instead, today I would like to focus on the idea of trauma, and healing from psychological trauma. As the days were leading up to this anniversary, I found myself really struggling with a lot of anger. It was coming out (mostly at Dean) but at everything in life really. I had an appointment scheduled with my counselor yesterday, and I came in seething. As we talked, I decided to bring up to her that Friday would be three years since I was admitted to the hospital. I couldn’t even say it out loud without crying. I didn’t realize how much this simple date, July 26th, was really causing havoc to my emotional and mental state.

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