It was this time last year. The panic of no sleep. The desperation, willing to do almost anything to find relief. He came nightly, forcefully interjecting himself, laughing at his tenacious pursuit of my sleep and sanity. His unwanted company ultimately preventing me from having a coherent thought, from soaking up the merry and bright that the holidays promise. The monster haunting my every moment, there to remind me that I am different, that I won’t find the tranquility I urgently seek. Finally, after meeting with numerous doctors, one offered a possible solution. In November 2022, I had undergone a cerebral angiography, venogram, and lumbar puncture. These tests revealed that I may have a restricted vein in the front right quarter of my head, described as a finger in a hose, impeding the flow of blood. A couple of incredibly talented doctors put their minds together and suggested we place bone paste in the sinus behind my ear, hoping to dampen the noise of the pulsing. He warned that it may not work, that it might not be the answer, but after brief consideration, we agreed, hoping that the surgery would resolve the pulsing. It didn’t.

So many stressors pile on at year end. The nagging anniversary of the surgery that failed, that I may never be whole. The stress of my career – a new calendar year demanding the reset of financial schedules, budgets, forecasts. Associations in my life feel the stress of the holidays too, sometimes boiling over, not moderating their own emotions, their unchecked behaviors ricocheting through my life, disturbing my peace. The holidays persistently present in the background, my mothering instinct dreaming of the magic of the morning, the traditions heavy on my shoulders while also lending structure and priority to the claims on my time, crashing through our doors, our phones, our lives.

This year like years past, the monster was ever present. He’d grown somehow, multiplying from the pounding in my head to the tugging at my mind, joining forces with the anticipated boiling over of my friend, twisting me in knots, forcing the loss of sleep, manifesting in unrelenting aches and pains, the inability to relax and live in the moment. Secondary to the torrent of anxiety burgeoning inside, was the mom guilt that emerged, exposing my fear that I was indeed, not delivering a magical holiday season.

And then it happened. I’d had promptings from my coach, my therapist, my friends, my doting husband, proclaiming that I needed to protect my peace, to stand up for myself, to not give other people my power. So I stopped giving them my power. I stopped. I stood up for myself. I imposed boundaries that had been carefully drawn previously, but hadn’t been enforced. I knew I owed it to myself and to my family to recapture the power I’d once had.

It started with a big episode. I stood up for myself and left shaking, sobbing, drained of the little energy I’d garnered. The incident took place as I was really sick – flu and strep, killer combo- so I was already living minute to minute, trudging through, trying to keep my commitments despite the sickness of the season having settled in. I’d been preparing for the episode, having encountered it before, knowing the pressure of the holidays gave rise to my friend’s emotional behavior, causing those around pain and additional stress. Instead of allowing it to crush me, I enforced my boundary and walked away triumphant, my inner self elated that I’d finally grown the courage to stand in my power.

The episode proved to be akin to a dam breaking, the rush of the water charging my courage, flooding my sprouting confidence with the life giving water critical to its vitality. Following the episode, I found small ways daily to enforce my boundaries, to stand up for myself, each time congratulating myself for exercising my peace muscle. That’s what I call it, my ‘peace muscle’ because as it grows, my peace grows and, shockingly to my disbelieving mind, my pulsing incrementally subsides. Not all at once, not completely, but my troubled mind, slowly, very slowly, deciphering the way to move out of constant anxiety, of fight or flight, and into rest and digest. To peace.

The internet is flooded with quotes and advice telling us to practice our boundaries. To live in the present. To love yourself. I was reading these quotes but not fully embracing their meaning. Now, daily as I act on ways to flex my peace muscle, I feel the budding relief of safety encircling me, reminding me of the person I once was, without ailment, without constant fear and anxiety. Though in the beginning stages of this courageous journey, I want to shout it from the rooftops. To counsel everyone I encounter with the peace bringing, life saving skill set I am developing. Let’s do it together this year. Let’s buoy each other up in our growth, offering a life preserver occasionally when we fall short. We deserve healthy boundaries and the peace that germinates, like a flower in spring, from our efforts. Let’s grow big, beautiful flowers this year. Here’s to a blooming year!