Courage – Superhero Life With Andrea Scher

Category Archives: Courage

February 19th, 2013

When the “Voice” speaks to you + going gluten-free

Self-portrait with Jessica Swift + Vivienne McMaster

About a year and a half ago, during an exceptionally stressful time involving a sick parent, I noticed I had a bald spot on the side of my head. It was underneath a lot of hair (phew!) but was nonetheless impressive. Egg-sized + bald to the skin people! I was shocked when I saw it and started googling like crazy. (Always a bad idea) Soon after, I developed a secondary symptom of mottled skin on my face.

At the doctor, they diagnosed me with Alopecia Areata and suggested some injectable steroids, which didn’t feel right to me. So I went home and hoped it would correct itself eventually… It didn’t.

Months later I opened the fridge and a voice, THE Voice, the one with the capital V spoke to me: “Just quit sugar.”

And just like that, I did.

It was rough for the first few days. I was exhausted. Then I was ravenous! Without all the sugar, I didn’t know what to eat and I was hungry all the time. What was great is that I was reoriented to a whole new range of foods– much healthier, much more protein.

Within 2 weeks, my hair started to grow back. I don’t have any grey hair but the first hair to grow in this place was bone white. It was as if I was struck by lightning! My body also shifted around and went back to it’s pre-baby configuration. A bonus! I have continued the (mostly) no sugar ever since and have felt great.

And then….

This weekend the voice returned. This time it said that I need to experiment with going gluten-free. So here we go! I asked this question on Facebook as well, but I’d love to hear if you have taken the plunge as well? How has it helped you/changed you?

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February 11th, 2013

The question underneath every other question.

Me and Ben, photo by Jen Downer, www.shesawthings.com

It’s possible that one of the few places I’ve found, where love feels so pure, is the love for those boys. The little ones with the big ocean eyes and long, thick lashes. The ones with yogurt smeared on their sleeve, denim torn at the knee, pot-bellied and pale-skinned. Those boys are so delicious I can feel my heart leap inside my chest at the sight of them.

“Mama loves you?”

This is Nico’s newest, and possibly most adorable question for me these days.

“Mama loves you?” he asks. And I say, “Yes, mama loves you…” and he wraps an arm around my neck and squeezes so hard that my left cheek and his right cheek touch with a glorious smoosh.

Last night when I was putting Ben down in his room, I heard Nico talking to Matt: “Mama loves you?” and Matt saying, “Yes, and daddy loves you too.”

“Daddy loves you? Benda loves you?” Nico continued to ask.

And I can relate to this question, that is perhaps underneath every other question.

Will you pick me up from class?
What should we have for dinner tonight?
Do you think we’ll go on vacation this year?

Maybe we are really asking- Do you love me? Am I lovable?

Ben has been sulking on the couch these days. When he gets upset about something, he runs into the living room and sits on the couch. After a minute or so he shouts, “Isn’t anyone going to come hug me?”

And I am learning, that when we are hurt, when we run away and hide, we really just want to be found.

And so I remember more these days to ask, “Do you need a hug?”

And he almost always says yes.

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February 7th, 2013

Back to square one.

Meta self-portrait, shot with iphone 4S

Maybe I should have knocked on wood, or crossed my fingers, or whatever one does to ward off the evil eye. I said it, then wondered if it was true, or if I’d be punished for saying it.

“I like myself,” I told a friend. We had been at our meditation class and after hours of inspiration and inquiry, I shared this insight – “I just realized,” I told her, “that my old stories, the ones about being fat or stupid or unworthy of love, they’ve expired. I don’t think that way anymore. I like who I see when I look in the mirror.”

Maybe I should have added “these days” or “lately” or “at this moment.” Maybe it shouldn’t have been such a bold pronouncement. It felt transgressive and I immediately wondered if I should take it back.

And then yesterday, a dear friend got upset with me. And when someone gets upset with me, I panic. And I immediately want to say the thing that will make it better, that will smooth it over. You can have anything you want just don’t be mad at me. Please.

And when she didn’t answer her phone, I texted. And texted again. And then nothing. All night there was nothing except the ache in my stomach, terrible like a rock, and it was hard to sleep and hard to wake up and hard to ignore the terrible, horrible ache.

But here’s the thing: Where I go in my mind is like a superhighway to the darkest dark. I’m a horrible person. I don’t know how to be a good friend. I should just be alone. I should be blotted out and erased.

And I thought about what I said last week, and maybe I spoke too soon. And maybe what I should have said was, “I like myself most of the time. Except when I am triggered. Or pissing somebody off. Or making mistakes.”

And that puts me somewhere back at square one all over again.

Update: Just want to share that I had a beautiful conversation with this friend today and I am not only feeling relieved, but more connected to her for having had this process. When we are in tender territory, our minds can go crazy with stories… most of which aren’t true. I will remember this next time.

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January 16th, 2013

in love with this camera.

Ben running to Gioia pizza, shot with Canon 6D

Investing in Ourselves

Ever since I took the plunge and bought my new camera I have been thinking about this idea of investing in ourselves. I’ll never forget the day my friend Kim bought her first laptop computer. We stared at the box underneath her desk for a long time, chatting. She was afraid to open it — wondering if she deserved such a beautiful tool, worried she had spent too much money.

I did the same thing after buying the camera. It took some measure of courage to drive over to the camera store and just buy it already. It felt like an illicit act, something daring, maybe even a little bit dangerous. When I got home, I stared at the box in the middle of my living room floor. I could take it back, I thought. Wow. It is so nice… Do I deserve this?

It felt substantial in my hands when I first tried it out, awkward. I felt like an imposter holding this sophisticated tool. Am I a real photographer? Isn’t this camera supposed to be for professionals?

It takes courage to invest in ourselves.

And yet, every time I have ever invested in myself, it has paid off a thousand fold. Every new tool has launched me into a whole new realm of creativity. This camera is no exception.

Have you ever invested in yourself? How did it feel?

Posted in Courage, Inspiration, Photography | Comments (26)

December 17th, 2012

A New Year’s Ritual*

New Year’s Ritual Part One from andrea scher on Vimeo.

This is my very FIRST video blog! After 10 years of blogging the old-fashioned way, I am feeling extra brave and delighted to share this little video series with you. Grab a pen and paper and join me for a closing of the year ritual.

Part 2: What can you celebrate? from andrea scher on Vimeo.

Part 3: What can you acknowledge and let go of? from andrea scher on Vimeo.

Part 4: Choose Your Word for 2013 from andrea scher on Vimeo.

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December 5th, 2012

Reaching out from the wobbly middle

Nico throwing rocks, Colorado

“Every positive change–every jump to a higher level of energy and awareness–involves a rite of passage. Each time to ascend to a higher rung on the ladder of personal evolution, we must go through a period of discomfort, of initiation. I have never found an exception.” - Dan Millman, author of Way of the Peaceful Warrior

I love this quote and the re-frame he offers: That even in the midst of the discomfort, you can know that this is initiation. This is you growing into something more — deeper, wiser, more awake + more compassionate. It’s a lovely big-picture way to hold whatever big shifts are going on in your life right now.

I spoke with a friend yesterday and when she asked me how I was, I found myself saying, “I don’t have words for it yet, but I know that I am experiencing a shift. I am moving towards a different way of being as a creative person + teacher. I am moving toward something more intimate and grounded, something that feeds me in deep ways and creates even more powerful connections to the people I serve.”

After I said it I was surprised by how true it felt. I didn’t even realize that I was in the midst of change until the words came out of my mouth! But there it was.

I would guess that if we are awake + conscious in our lives, that we are almost always in a state of becoming. Becoming more ourselves by honoring who we are in bigger and deeper ways.

But what I want to acknowledge today is that the awkward messy phase of an initiation is full of discomfort and doubt. We will question everything — if we are on the right path, if we are up to the task, or if we should just quit altogether. It’s tempting to judge ourselves especially, to say we are lost or broken. You’re a mess, get your shit together, why can’t you be like so and so… But I’m here to say this: that life is often that messy middle place and our capacity to find comfort (and perspective) there can make all the difference.

Reaching out

One of the best ways to do this is to reach out. Not to just anyone, but someone you trust to hold big things with you. Someone who can listen deeply + maybe get you out of the weeds to see something bigger. This might be a friend or family member. Or it might be a therapist or a coach. If we can reach out to one another from that space of uncertainty, we will feel less alone and we are more likely to move through with grace and courage.

What about you?

Are you in the midst of a shift? Are you moving toward a new version of yourself?

Complete the following sentence in the comments below: As the new year approaches, I feel myself becoming more _____________.

Perhaps if we can all hold each other’s wobbly in-between space, we can find more strength to move through the fire.

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November 2nd, 2012

How She Really Does It!

Courage interview

So honored to be featured on the How She Really Does It radio show today! You can give a listen right here.

We talk about:

What courage means
Times when I felt like I didn’t have courage
How to build courage
Dealing with uncertainty + courage
Why I created the Cultivating Courage course

P.S. If it inspires you to take Cultivating Courage, I will be offering a session in the New Year. Class will begin Monday, January 14th!

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October 16th, 2012

On anxiety, panic attacks and being brave.

Stars at my feet, shot with iphone 4S

It started in my early twenties when I found that I was often short of breath. I thought maybe I had asthma but it turns out it was good old fashioned nerves. For many years I controlled it with yoga. Lots of yoga. Like 2-hour classes three times a week and a lot of walking up and down the hills in San Francisco.

But then I had kids.

And I stopped doing so much yoga and stopped sleeping well and just generally wasn’t able to take such exquisite care of myself anymore. And then one of those kids started having seizures at 12 months old. Each episode was traumatic. At my first public speaking gig (and first time away from my baby) I had a full blown panic attack. It was terrible and horrible and lasted 3 days. By the time I returned home, I felt like a bulb that had burned too bright and shattered into a thousand pieces.

I also knew a door had been opened. Something was possible that wasn’t possible before — panic.

If this has happened to you, you know what I am talking about. And my sense that a door was opened? is actually scientifically pretty accurate. As my panic attacks and anxiety have snowballed this year, my doctor told me that this is a conditioned response by the brain. The more you have them, the more your brain wants to have them.

Oy vey.

For the last 3 months I have worked with an integrative physician to find a solution that doesn’t involve pharmaceuticals. I have been downing a whole arsenal of vitamins and supplements, hiking nearly every day and eating well. I was feeling great! Until a few weeks ago when I had another attack. I was doing something completely ordinary — google-mapping a birthday party in Oakland — when I suddenly collapsed on the floor, pure fear and adrenal surging through my body. I have been plagued with almost constant anxiety since.

I just can’t take it anymore.

My brave move

My brave move last week was to call my doctor and asked for a prescription. For an anti-depressant. Zoloft to be exact.

The more I open up about this, the more I realize how many of us are suffering from anxiety and depression. I used to think it was a flaw of my character — neurotic, too sensitive, easily overwhelmed, no fun, bad mother. The judgments would come in a steady stream at the hardest moments. Why can’t you just be a normal person like everybody else? is another one of my favorite ways to beat myself up. But now I see that this is an overwhelming world we live in. And if you’re highly sensitive like me? It can be too much. Parenting can feel like too much. Leaving the house can feel like too much.

I keep wanting to write this story from the other side of it. I took the drugs and it was the best thing I ever did. I can’t believe I let myself suffer for so long. But that remains to be seen. I am still living inside this story.

It takes courage

I am grateful for the Cultivating Courage class where we are doing one brave thing each day for 30 days. Without that class I might not have recognized this choice as courageous.

But of course it is.

It takes courage to ask for help. It takes courage to share our vulnerability, especially in a world that views it as a weakness. It takes courage to go down the path you didn’t want to take. It takes courage to act with self-compassion, to not make yourself wrong for what you need, but to simply ask yourself in the kindest way- what can I do that will help?

I did not want to do it this way. I’m one of those people who doesn’t even like to take Advil for a headache. I’m also one of those people that is so high functioning you would never know that they were depressed or anxious. But here I am, knowing that the bravest move I can make is to get help.

And I’m hopeful that this is just the right help I need. Just the right medicine.

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September 26th, 2012

The courage to let go

Myriam Joseph Loeschen with the owl necklace

Some lovely girlfriends came into town recently, one from Canada and one from Los Angeles. It was the sweetest kind of reunion since we were all together in San Miguel de Allende earlier this year and hadn’t all been together since. I decided to take them to the most magical spot I know — Point Reyes.

Point Reyes is along the coast and has some of the most gorgeous beaches and hiking spots in the world. It is quintissential, wild California coast. One part hippy hiking dream and one part sophisticated foodie wonderland. It also has a special place in my heart because it is home to Cowgirl Creamery – some of the most sublime cheese I have ever had. And I have had my share of cheese. Whenever you say, “I’m going to Point Reyes this weekend…” people swoon. It’s that wonderful.

Cowgirl Creamery cheese, shot with Canon Xsi

Carmen McDonald at the magical potion store, Garden of Eden, Point Reyes Station

Mati on the beach, Limantour Beach

The day before we left, Mati emailed to tell us that she was glad we would all be together because it was an auspicious day – the 10th anniversary of her marriage that had just recently ended. She asked if we wouldn’t mind doing a ritual with her, and of course we felt so honored she asked. We didn’t plan it out. I think we all just knew that the right ritual would find us, most likely on the beach.

After gathering a feast of picnic supplies, we drove all the way out to Limantour beach. The weather had been gorgeous all over the bay area, even at Point Reyes station, and our hearts sunk a little when we realized that the only foggy, cold spot in the bay was right over Limantour Beach. But we quickly realized that the weather was the perfect mood for the ritual we were about to do. It would have felt strange if it was too bright and sunny. Foggy was just right.

Mati with feathers, Limantour Beach

Myriam noticed the feathers first. Why don’t we gather 10 feathers? One for each year of your marriage. You can let them go, one by one in the water. And so she did. A beautiful little bouquet. A way to honor each year and also let them go. So powerful. So brave.

Myriam with feathers, Limantour Beach, Point Reyes, CA

And then it was Myriam’s turn. She gathered five feathers, one for each pregnancy she had lost and one for the baby that was meant to find her. So touching and beautiful.

We were all in tears as we watched her toss her feathers into the ocean.

Myriam, Limantour Beach

As we gathered together back on the sand to take it all in, we looked down and noticed something extraordinary in the sand — tiny, child-sized footprints at Myriam’s feet. It felt like a sign, an unmistakable serendipity reassuring all of us that good things were to come.

Damn straight! Good things are coming.

Join me for 30 days of courage

I’ve been working hard to create a beautiful course for you! 30 days of conscious, brave steps. Tiny ones, that strung together, make for big transformation in our hearts.

Lessons, worksheets, dares, and powerful courage stories from Brene Brown, Julie Daly, Alexandra Franzen + more…

I would love to have you! Registration ends soon!

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September 13th, 2012

Important-er than a diaper

Ben, photo by Jen Downer (http://www.shesawthings.com)

He was crying on the green couch the other night.

I had yelled– don’t remember why — something about the bathtub and the Oreo cookie Nico had snuck into it and then submerged, little spongy bits of Oreo floating throughout the tub.

But I think it was later, when I tried to put Nico in a diaper, chasing his warm, pink, little naked body around the house. My meager attempt to strap on the diaper before he did his ritual, stealth pee somewhere in our home. It’s a lucky day when it shows up on the hardwood floor (less lucky when he makes it to the rug) and I can usually clean it up before he does another lap around the house and slips into said pool of pee, careening across the living room floor.

It sounds funny, right?

But I could feel it, the rage increasing, the boiling blood, the out-of-control feeling. I could feel it in the way I pinned him down, harder that I wanted to, to get the diaper on, while he wriggled out of my grasp.

And all the while, Ben was whining from the tub crying out for me, “I want to get out!!!” and I’m calling back, “Just a minute!” all sweet and crazy-mommy like, “just a minute honey…” but then I abandoned that nonsense and started barking, “Just wait a fricking minute!!! I’m trying to get Nico in a diaper!”

Sweating, I finish sealing Nico — who immediately sprints off — and I come to collect the whining Ben out of the tub. I wrap him in his favorite towel and mutter something about how I need to take a breath and how I just got really frustrated back there. And now he is sitting with me on the green couch and crying because I’ve yelled at him. Did I mention that? I yelled at him somewhere in there and now I am holding him and apologizing and feeling terrible and he is saying, “But I’m importanter! I’m importanter than a diaper!” and I’m nodding “Yes, yes, you are right. You are much more importanter than a diaper.”

And then I see Nico, naked, running by.

And I can either laugh or cry. And I really wish I could tell you I laughed, but I did not.

And thank god children live in the moment, because they will have forgotten about this mess, this yelling, while I will hang onto it, measuring, judging, weighing — Am I a good mother? Can I yell and still be a good mother? Is it okay if I apologize? Have I already blown it? Is Nico going to remember, somewhere in his tiny cells, all those times I shoved him into the carseat?

This is what I am learning to be with these days. How incredibly flawed and human and not-at-all perfect I am. I’m learning to have compassion for myself and how hard this is and how to make amends and show up again and again. Heart full of love, wanting to do my best.

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