Category: mental health

The Child Inside Me

There is a child inside me

She lurks in the corners of my soul as I navigate my life

She has been waiting for her chance to come out and play

.

I worked so hard for so much of my life

to raise my kids

to keep myself safe

.

I tried so hard to fit in

Hoping to be seen – to be heard

My inner child has been very patient

.

My kids are now grown and have their own lives

I’ve no one to care for but the dogs

No one to tell me what I can, can’t, or should do

.

The child is now free to play

She’s with me when I garden

She helps me tell my story through my blog

She’s there when I create the art that brings me so much joy

.

And she’s there to tell me it’s okay

when I start to feel weepy over old memories

or the state of the world

Celebrating Life’s Simple Pleasures: Things I Love

Lately I’ve been posting a lot about my personal growth coming out of trauma. I thought it was time for a change of pace. Today’s post is quite simply a list of things I love.

Cool mornings in Summer

Puppy Snuggles

Strong Coffee

A warm chocolate chip cookie

A garden full of flowers

My beautiful daughters

Hours alone in my art studio

A good WhoDunit

Movie popcorn

Truffle fries

A good wine shared with friends

Summer trips with my daughters and grandchildren

Bunco

Halloween

Staring at the stars

Toes in my sand

The sounds of the ocean

A just-cleaned house

Laughing til I cry

A good sneeze

The smell of warm banana bread

Traveling Europe

Saturday morning free writing

A clean car

Buying art supplies

Exploring new painting techniques

Pepperoni pizza

A good burger

Butterflies

Sitting around a fire pit with friends

Thank you for reading. What things do you love?

Changing My Name: a Path to Healing

Shedding my name was a big step in letting go of my past. Every time I heard that name aimed at me, it was like fingernails on a chalkboard. It’s a fine name for someone else, just not me.

It was my first name that needed to go. The name I had been called in the house full of anger. The name I carried with me all through school, where I was afraid to make friends – didn’t know how to. It was the name I was called during my first marriage. The marriage that had been a desperate attempt to gain freedom, but in fact was even more constrictive.

I eventually fled the marriage, moved out of state, and changed my name. It seemed the perfect timing – no one knew me. I began using my middle name – a nod to my mostly un-present, but desperately missed father. I was in my early twenties, and single parenting 15-month-old twins. I needed something big to help me shift into my new life. This was it. Nothing official, I simply began sharing it as my preferred name. My health insurance was in the name I preferred. I traveled under the name I preferred. Nobody cared.

Fast forward about forty years. Travel policies had tightened and I was once again forced to acknowledge my first name. A trip to Portugal in 2022 became frustrating when I had to constantly correct the tour guides, after I had dutifully listed my middle name in the “Preferred Name” box on the forms.

That’s it, I thought. No more. So I made it official. I now am legally addressed by what had been my middle name, my first name now residing in the middle position and shortened to a single letter. No one’s going to call me that again…except…when I have the unfortunate need to communicate with my ex. But that doesn’t happen often.

I bought a piece of art off the courthouse wall the day I received the order. It hangs in my living room as a reminder of the gift I gave myself. The ink drawing of frogs perched on lily pads in a pond was created by a woman in a recovery program. I thought it fitting: the artist was working on her trauma, and her art was a symbol of me working on mine. I’m so thankful it was there on the courthouse wall that day. It’s a favorite piece in my collection.

Of course, changing my name didn’t erase my past. It didn’t make me magically stop thinking about it. But not hearing that name every day has given me space to heal. Distance. There was a level of resentment I felt when called by my given name.

I still have memories that make me sad at times. But it’s easier these days to recognize when I’m going down an unhealthy rabbit hole. I remind myself that I’m a different person than I was back then. I have better options now, because of the life I’ve created for myself. Sure, I still carry grief that bubbles up from time to time – don’t we all? And I occasionally go back to therapy for a tune-up. That’s how healing works. But I feel I’m “over the hump.” And the name change was a big part of making that happen.

The decision to change a name is a big one, and isn’t for everyone. In case you’re considering it, you should know: The courthouse step is surprisingly easy. The name changing on every official document in your life is the hard part. I’m still working on it.

What big thing have you done for yourself that caused a shift in your life? Did it do the trick? Was it everything you hoped for?

Rediscovering Joy Through Art: My Healing Journey

I have recently restarted my painting practice, and what a life-changer! I sat in anxiety and fear for years – art studio gathering dust – paintings in storage.

I had been dealing with some depression…disconnectedness. It crept in slowly…as it can…and had gone on for so long, I forgot what it was like to be joyful. I accepted it as my new normal. But I missed my old self. Eventually, through some divine interventions, I was able to break through the fog. It took several intentional changes in my lifestyle and weaning off a neurologic prescription to get there, but eventually, I began to feel better again.

Then one day I started moving forward. First, I reorganized my studio, making friends with the space again. Next, I began playing. Just dabbling. Soon after, an Art Healing Workshop appeared on my social feed, and I signed up for that. A full week of self-reflection through art gave me the boost I needed. I signed up for the monthly membership, where I get to have regular working sessions with others across the country.

Last weekend, I did my first live art show in probably ten years, and it felt wonderful! I was excited to get some of my new work out into the world and dip my toes into the live show experience. I came away, elated! People commented on the deep textures and bright colors I use in my floral paintings. They enjoyed their whimsical feel. I loved hearing what people had to say. I felt validated!

I am sure this is where I’m meant to be, at this moment. I believe I wasn’t ready until now. Now, I can fully appreciate my gift without self-judgment. It’s such a freeing experience to have given in to the thing that brings me so much joy!

A key part of this story is that I’ve forgiven myself for keeping my joy at bay for so long. I had things I needed to go through in order to get here…in order to appreciate the magic of this part of me.

Are you embracing the things that bring you joy today?

Have you ever had a breakthrough that suddenly brought you back into your joy?

For information about Leah Guzman’s Art Therapy program: LeahGuzmanStudio.com

To see more of my art: MelEricksonFineArt.com

Letting Go: A Path to Physical and Emotional Healing

I recently had an epiphany. Let me explain. A few months ago, I was diagnosed with a chronic condition that affects my digestion in extreme ways. Since then, I’ve tried all manner of supplements and laxatives, as well as a low fiber diet to try to get to a place of comfort.

Then, on a Thursday evening a few weeks ago, I was chatting with my friend, Mary, and she asked about my health. I shared with her that I had been feeling defeated earlier in the day, because all the adjustments I’d made had had little impact. My Gastrointestinal doctor’s advice was simply: “MiraLAX, and two kiwi a day.” In my moment of defeat, I said out loud to myself, What else can I do? I don’t know what to do. I started to tear up. But then my mind cataloged all the daily routines I’d been doing for months, and I realized I had been skipping my daily affirmations.

You see, I’ve long been a believer in the mind/body connection. I also believe we attract into our lives circumstances and things that align with the vibrations (energy) we send out into the world. For years, I’ve followed the likes of Louise Hay, Abraham-Hicks, and Mike Dooley. I fully believe Dooley’s catch phrase, “Thoughts become things.”

I’ve already achieved so much for myself through positive thoughts and intentionality, but sometimes I get busy and overwhelmed. I forget my power. Metaphysics has many more uses than just manifesting good parking spots. But I’m human. I need the Universe to give me a swift kick in the butt now and then.

As an example, a few months ago, I used positive affirmations to help me remediate the chronic fibromyalgia flare-up I’d been experiencing for over a year. I had gotten a couple nudges from the Universe that led me to search for my copy of Louise Hay and Mona Lisa Schulz’s book, ALL IS WELL. I looked up several of my symptoms in the reference at the back and learned which negative thoughts I was likely carrying around with me that might contribute to my symptoms. I wrote down the recommended positive affirmations and got busy.

No, I didn’t say the affirmations a couple times and suddenly I was healed. It doesn’t work that way. But the repetition of affirmations daily can help silence the negative messages that run wild in our brains. Think of it as meditating or praying. In this situation, the affirmations improved my mindset, and I was able to think through possible causes for my discomfort. Through a series of unexpected events, I was led to hire a company to remediate mold found in my home. I also began acupuncture therapy. I believe those two things got me over the hump and onto recovery.

Now, back to Thursday evening. As I rambled on to my friend, complaining over my lack of progress, I paused, and said, “But I am feeling a little better now. I haven’t been doing my affirmations every day. I haven’t done any in a while. So I got my book out and looked up a bunch of conditions related to stomach, colon, and digestion.” I paused again, the wheels turning, then said, “You know what?”

“What?”

“Every one of the affirmations for these conditions had to do with letting go of the past!”

That’s when it hit me! Right there, in Mary’s living room, I had my epiphany! I said:

“I need to let go of my memoir!”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Yes. For over a year now I’ve been sharing my trauma stories with my writer friends every week on that Zoom call I told you about. I need to let that go!”

This was HUGE! I have identified with this project for so many years, feeling determined it was important work that the world needed. I had conned myself into believing my motivation for publishing was primarily to help others. If I could survive my trauma and come out thriving (was I though?), surely my audience would be inspired to keep going! And there was that Creative Writing Professor who told me I should pursue publication after I submitted my class project: a collection of my teenage journal entries and poetry, strung together with a little prose.

Suddenly, I saw things differently. I hadn’t been honest with myself. Sure, it might be possible that someone would buy my memoir, read it, and think, “Wow. If she could survive that, surely I can survive this.” But there are so many memoirs out there today telling similar stories. Do we really need another? Revisiting those stories repeatedly had been damaging to my psyche. It was time for me to let go of my past and put my energy into creating something new and positive for my future.

I cannot fully express the level of relief I felt once I made that connection! It was almost instantaneous! I felt lighter, happier…relieved! This was several weeks ago, and I am still riding the wave. I look forward to working on something new. Will letting go of my memoir really help my digestive system heal? Time will tell.

Today’s affirmation from ALL IS WELL:

“As I release the past, the new and fresh and vital enter. I allow life to flow through me.”

Does the think Universe (God, Allah, Spirit) sends you messages?

Do you “get” the message the first time around or do you need a few nudges? I’m curious to know!

Embracing Creativity: Lessons from an Unstable Parent

My mother was creative…and restless. The lifestyle my father’s job as a commercial contractor could afford her was not enough to make her happy. We lived in a sprawling ranch house built by my father, located in California’s San Benancio Valley. My father’s job kept him away through the week. On weekends there was constant arguing.

I believe my mother was bipolar but she was never diagnosed. She was definitely paranoid. In his absence, she would rant about what a bad person my father was, and claim he was trying to have her put away. My guess is he tried to get her to talk to someone, and her paranoia spun its own version of the story.

Mother would swing without warning from fits of depression to bursts of energy where she would enlist my sisters and me to “help” her with these massive projects around the house and the property. She’d be in bed for a week, and suddenly we’re all waxing the parquet wood floors in our sunken living room. Or pouring cement into frames my father built so we could have stairs down to the creek.

Living with Mother was a wild ride. But in her good moods she taught me to sew. She taught me about crafting. Our family portraits were framed in Plaster of Paris frames Mother made herself and embellished with gold leaf. One year we made Christmas trees out of old Readers Digest magazines, folding the top outside corner of each page to the middle binding. The magazines were then stood on end, pages fanned out, front and back covers glued together. The trees were spray painted and glittered, and displayed proudly around the house for the holiday season.

Mother gardened like a maniac, and made jams and jellies from our many fruit trees and berry vines. She made sauces from our tomatoes. There seemed to always be something in the pressure cooker. Homemade concord grape juice concentrate was stored in our deep freeze in the garage.

Mother was broken but I believe her creativeness kept her going – for a time. She has been gone now more than 30 years. I’ve had my own challenges with emotional well-being, largely from living with Mother’s lack of emotional well-being. But I am so very thankful to have experienced the creative part of her. Because of what I learned from my mother, I am an avid gardener, visual artist, crafter, and kitchen experimenter. And I believe that has saved me.

Is there someone in your life story who is/was broken, but has shared with you their beautiful gifts? What were your challenges in reconciling your feelings for this person?