Overwhelmed and Overburdened? Freedom is Possible.
Friends, I want to tell you the truth about what my life was like a few years ago. I was overwhelmed and overburdened, addicted to sugar and caffeine. Whenever I’m tempted to sugar-coat (pun intended) the exhaustion of that lifestyle, I remember this: I came down with shingles at the ripe old age of 23. …
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Lessons from the (Emotional) Arctic Tundra
Have you ever struggled with a weighty sense of failure, a belief that no matter what you try, you’ll make the wrong move? Have you ever found yourself feeling uncomfortable in a group, thinking: I don’t belong with all these happy people. I’d like to cheer up, but I’m just tense and miserable. Wish I could be like them … ? If so, dear friend, you are not alone. I could talk about our current survey all day — 58 of you have filled it out as of this writing! — but I’ll just share these findings: 53 out of 58...
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Confessions of a Recovering Perfectionist
Have you ever had your life get flipped, turned upside down? No, really, my fellow recovering perfectionist – I want to know. This isn’t just an excuse to quote the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme song. I want to know if you’ve had every shred of confidence swept away. I want to know if you’ve stood in the clearing, terrified of the emptiness around you. And most of all, I want to know if you’ve come through stronger than you were before. …
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What Would You Do With No Arms and No Limits?
Have you ever seen someone whose courage just took your breath away? Well, I have; his name is Richie Parker. At the time of this writing, Richie is in his 30s, and he works as an engineer for Hendrick Motorsports. Before I share the rest of the story, though, I have to tell you that this is not the post I had planned for today. But my birthday is coming up; this week, I’ll be 29. And people keep asking if I’m worried about nearing the big 3-0. Part of me understands the anxiety. But another part of me thinks...
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Fellow Perfectionists, Come See Me
Recently, I received a message from the moderator of a Facebook group of which I am a member. It read: “Caroline McGraw, please inbox me...I need to ask you something.” There was a plummeting, zooming feeling in my stomach. I clicked away, thinking: This isn't the first time I've felt that the ax is about to fall. *** All at once, I was back in first grade. My teacher, Mrs. Sanosi, had just returned our assignments. I was a good student, accustomed to seeing “Excellent!” atop my worksheets. But this particular paper had See Me written in red ink. Dear...
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