7 Life Lessons I’ve Learned from Preschoolers with Special Needs

I’ve been working with children at a special education preschool for the past 4 months, and the students have taught me a thing or two about being an adult and, quite simply, a human being.

 1. Have your own feelings, and let others have theirs.

Instead of describing someone as “overly sensitive,” use the words “more sensitive.” Instead of saying, “You made me sad…,” say, “I felt sad when…” Society has normalized only certain degrees of feelings, boxing us into a limited array of “appropriate” emotions, when, in fact, emotions have been and always will be individualized.

 2. Communication is key.

Facilitating peer-to-peer repair is an important aspect of teaching special education. In life, you are going to have thoughts and feelings that you cannot control. It is important to communicate them to those around you instead of bottling them up. You can explain what happened to make you feel or think that way and in return, you’ll probably receive some empathy from a listening ear. Most everyone has empathy on some basic level, and so much of our negative thoughts and emotions are the result of accidents or misunderstanding.

3. Behavior tells a story.

Sometimes, our mouths get dammed up and we don’t know how to put into words what we’re feeling. Body language and reactions are communications in their own right. For children with special needs who lack the language to express what they want or what they’re feeling, we teachers strengthen their trust by reading, understanding, and appropriately–compassionately–responding to their non-verbal cues.

 4. Be an active listener.

Though many of my kiddos struggle with making eye contact, they still know whether or not they are being heard based on eye contact from others and general interest in their words. Because the children are building their language skills, we routinely model sentence structures for them, but only after giving them a chance to tell us the story in their own words. We give them our full attention, concentrating and then responding directly to what they just said. This not only improves upon their communication skills, but also gives them a sense of value.

 5. Goals are best accomplished one step at a time.

Scaffolding is an important aspect of special education teaching which involves breaking down lessons into smaller, more manageable steps. Goals should be set high but they should also be attainable. Learning–whether in school or in life–is best achieved when we slow down, take a step back, and look things over an extra time or two.

 6. You have more patience than you realize.

Special education requires an incredible amount of patience, especially in a room full of energetic preschoolers. I honestly did not know I had this much of an inner calm inside me. My patience is tried literally every thirty seconds throughout the six-hour school day, but I very rarely ever find it stretching too thin. (Though I do want to fall asleep by 8 PM. 🙂 ) This is hugely based on the effort I have put into building relationships with these mini humans, the time I have taken to understand them, with or without their words. Moments that seem trying are usually just a misunderstood child trying to be understood.

 7. Everyone deserves to be loved.

When I worked in the animal world, I fell in love with patients that struggled the most–a three-legged sheep, turtles missing flippers–and clients that perhaps carried a lot of baggage–crotchety old men, socially awkward folks. I’ve always been drawn to those who are misunderstood (#pitbullsarethegreatest), and children with special needs too often are. It’s such a privilege to be working at a school where cochlear implants and hearing aids are the norm, where listening and equipment checks are part of our morning routine. Even when a student is screaming in my face or punching my arm, I still have an overwhelming desire to help them learn how to process their feelings–and I remind them that it’s okay to have these feelings, because that’s what makes them who they are. They’re not different; they’re all just tiny humans finding their way in the world, and needing a little extra help along the path.

What are some life lessons you’ve learned from children? Share in the comments below!

10 Reasons My College Improv Troupe Was Some of the Best People I’ll Ever Meet

It would have been easy to be the outcast when I joined my college improvisational comedy troupe. I was different and naive in so many ways—a sober, prude, Catholic girl with zero fashion sense tossed into a hodgepodge of intelligent, talented, funny students who made witty political commentary and iconic pop culture references that sailed far above my bouncing ponytail.

I could have been singled out for navigating college in an unorthodox way and not having the common knowledge to understand that Bono is a person, not a thing, but somehow, these people found their way onto my list of favorite humans. And if you ask them, I’d venture to guess that one of their favorite things about me is the fact that I am so different.

In college, I was lucky to land myself in an improv troupe that treated me like family. Being a member of Ohio Wesleyan University’s Babbling Bishops might very well be my fondest college experience. This group of humorous souls trickled their way into my heart and became some of the best people I’ve ever known, and here’s why.

They know empathy.

Good actors are empathetic. In order to portray someone else–funny or not–you have to be able to put yourself in their shoes. My improv friends are the type of empathetic people who have embarked upon career paths that actively give back to others and fill a great void in this world, from artists to scientists to mental health professionals and beyond.

They understand patience.

In order to be a successful (read: entertaining) improv troupe, everyone has to practice together. It takes time and effort to reach that level of group mind where you’re so fast on your feet with each other that the audience feels like they’re watching a scripted comedy of errors. The best improv team doesn’t take jabs for cheap laughs but rather slowly builds up a scene until the audience is guffawing and chortling like your weird aunt at Thanksgiving dinner.

They practice inclusivity.

The most challenging, authentic, open-minded conversations I had regarding my Catholic faith occurred with my atheist improv friends. Comedy isn’t determined by your religion, skin color, gender identity, sexuality, or physical appearance. You can be a frizzy-haired, pimpled, handicapped, biracial lesbian or you can be a buff, straight, cisgendered hunk of a man. The one with the skills to be a team player in an improv comedy show makes the troupe.

They engage supportively.

Improv is a team activity, not an individual one. When a member is struggling on or off the stage, the group is there to pick you up. When I was in the hospital with a head injury, my improv troupe piled into cars and drove forty minutes on a school night to visit me. When I couldn’t perform for a month because of subsequent speech problems, they let me introduce the shows and watch from the stage.

They exude compassion.

During an improv show, you don’t want your partner to fail, so you don’t leave them hanging out to dry. Then and now, few people have offered me more compassion in my break-ups, career changes, anxiety struggle, and battle with Lyme disease than these humans that I acted like a fool with in college.

They live honestly.

Comedians are funny people, which means you generally see them as happy people. But those who have the highest of highs can also have the lowest of lows. Many of my improv friends are open publicly or personally about their life struggles. They share the good and the bad on social media, actively encouraging others to live authentically.

They take risks.

Achieving group mind requires being vulnerable with each other. In a show, you put yourself out there regardless of whether or not you get a laugh. The improvisers who surrounded me in college are the ones who hiked the Appalachian Trail, traveled on a cross-country amends road trip, and took a giant leap from the secure present with no idea about the future because they believed in themselves enough to make it to the other side.

They seek self-awareness.

Being an improviser means knowing your strengths and weaknesses. My troupe members have consistently expanded their quest for mindfulness beyond the theatre, searching for who they are and what their place is in this world. If they can’t find their purpose, they make one.

They stand committed.

On stage, you can’t abandon your partner. You ride through the bumps in a rocky scene until you get to the end. Now, post-graduation and full-on adult-living, we’re still friends, no matter the geography or complications that arise. Improvisers don’t run away from difficult conversations and they don’t turn their backs on their choices.

They are carefree.

All of us in the Babbling Bishops have our insecurities, but we’re also the ones you’ll see dancing like escaped zoo animals in the bar, in the kitchen, in the grocery store, or at the bus stop, with absolute and complete reckless abandon, with no care to the eyebrows raised in our direction. We carpe diem, baby, because we know we only have one chance at life on earth, and we’re going to choreograph our way through it however we darn well please.

In no other group of people have I ever been more different but felt more accepted than with the Babbling Bishops. We share a bond that no distance or time can shake.

Improv taught me skills to pave my way through life as an adult. It also granted me lasting friendships with people that I look up to, good people whose accomplishments and existence constantly inspire me to be a better person. Somehow, I was lucky enough to become an unlikely member of a family of hilarious yet compassionate misfits.

 

Give 100% to Your Dreams

For a nomadic gal like me, staying in one place can make me feel trapped like an animal in a cage. But as a social butterfly and, well, a female, I’m drawn to community. The vagabond life is filled with intrepid, like-minded travelers, but when I’m on the road, I miss my trivia nights, community theatre and local hot spots where the owner knows me by name. I miss feeling like I’m a part of something, like I belong.

This is one of the reasons I’m drawn to traveling slowly. Life is certainly easier when you stay put. But I’m not cut out for the cookie cutter American dream. So I’m blazing my own trail. I’m making my own dreams.

I’m merging my passions, defining travel in my own way and pursuing a multitude of dreams and opportunities. I’m learning that “staying put” is all relative.

I’ll always be that girl with a backpack. But I’m so much more than that girl.

We only have one life to live. Let’s not half-ass it.

Blessings in Disguise

“To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make everybody but yourself, means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.” —E. E. Cummings

The hands we are dealt in life are not always welcome. They can cause physical pain and emotional heartache, close us off to possibilities, discourage our hopes and dreams. But they can also give us perspective, open the door to new opportunities, and shape us into better versions of our younger selves.

I am a happy person, but my life has not been fueled by rainbows and butterflies. Where I am today is a direct reflection of the independent outlook I have on life and the people and events I’ve mingled with along the way–both good and bad, positive and negative.

Maybe I strive to be an eternal optimist. Maybe it’s my natural intuition to trust my gut over a list of pros and cons. Or maybe it’s my past catching up with my present that’s shaping my future. Whatever the maybe, I don’t regret the challenges, curve balls and surprises that have been thrown my way. Without these blessings in disguise, I wouldn’t be where I am today.

“If we never experience the chill of a dark winter, it is very unlikely that we will ever cherish the warmth of a bright summer’s day. Nothing stimulates our appetite for the simple joys of life more than the starvation caused by sadness or desperation. In order to complete our amazing life journey successfully, it is vital that we turn each and every dark tear into a pearl of wisdom, and find the blessing in every curse.” –Anthon St. Marteen

If I had not been born with both a heart condition and an athlete’s heart, I might have taken my athleticism for granted. I might not have welcomed the challenge of pole vaulting when advised against it. I might have listened to doctors and statistics and never fought the odds. I might not have realized that my heart is both a beating organ in my chest and a synonym for my feelings. So, thank you, dilapidated heart, for teaching me that there are two outcomes to every story.

If I had not been robbed in Ecuador, I might not have needed to travel into the city alone to visit the doctor to refill the medicine that had been stolen from me. I might not have then had the guts to travel to the coast by myself when my companion’s plans fell through last minute. Without these experiences, I might not have had the confidence in myself to travel solo. So, thank you, Ecuadorian muggers, for pushing me to believe in my capabilities, for sparking a fire for solo female travel in my heart, one that I’m constantly feeding and never plan on letting die out.

If I had not contracted Lyme Disease, I might not have moved to the Florida Keys, expanding my zoological knowledge and acting prowess. I would not have had the opportunity to move to the Bahamas and experience the real island life. So, thank you Lyme Disease, for proving to me the strengths of the human mind to overcome physical pain, for showcasing the adaptability of the human spirit to make and embrace change and growth.

Photo by M. Parekh

If I had not dated boyfriends 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5, I would not know myself the way I do. I would not understand my wants and needs, and I might find myself settling. I might have believed that you can’t be friends with your ex and that every relationship that ends has to be messy. I might have always been left wondering if we could be great together. So, thank you, ex-boyfriends, for shining a capacity for my own forgiveness, understanding and healing that I might never have known, for encouraging me to love myself before committing to someone else, for letting me know when is the right moment to compromise, for proving to me that the heartache and memories were worth it.

If I hadn’t lived through Hurricane Joaquin, I would not have the tried and true empathy to help my Ecuadorian friends struggling with the aftermath of the devastating April 16 7.8-magnitude earthquake. I would likely not be in Seattle today, merging my passions for animals, acting and writing. So, thank you, Hurricane Joaquin, for giving me perspective I didn’t know I was lacking, for showing me what is important in life, for teaching me what it means to be there for someone, and for guiding me along the lonely and arduous rode to self-fulfillment and happiness.

Every moment in life, the bold and the timid, the fleeting and long-term, the smiling and taxing times, creates our present-day selves. What we do with those moments is up to us. What version of ourselves do we want to be?

Humanity = Freedom + Dignity

What is the mark you are leaving on this world?

Every once in awhile, someone comes along–stranger or friend–and in the heart of a heart-to-heart asks me, “What do you want to get out of life?”

I tell them, “I don’t want to live forever, but I want to leave behind something that does.”

As a writer and actor, the work I will leave on this earth is tangible in books and films. As a zoologist, my work will be less noticeable, unlikely to show up in a Google search. But to every endangered sea turtle I saved that spawned a generation, I made a difference. To every stray dog that I helped find a forever home, I left a lasting impression.

Yet my mark on this world is not limited to my career paths.

Perhaps less palpable, perhaps seemingly transparent, is the nature of our existence, the corporeal experience that we live and breathe, the manner in which we choose to live the one life we’re given.

I left my mark on the East Side Gallery of the Berlin wall in 2010. Four years later, I left the same mark in a ruin bar in Budapest. But paint, gravity and mankind will wear away my etchings.

Choosing to live by the words I left behind is my testament to humanity. It is the mark that I hope to leave on this world:

“…That freedom never dies. Remember your dignity.”

 

Baboons and Backbone

Today’s article is a guest post coming at you from Norwegian adventurer Ragnhild, a fellow animal lover and global nomad. Ragnhild’s blog features some hard truths about animal voluntourism, but more importantly, sheds light on the life lessons we can learn from such experiences.

Greetings everyone! My name is Ragnhild and I run the travel blog Green Lights Ahead. I’m from freezing Norway and like to share my adventures from both there and everywhere else my passport might take me. Last year it brought me to Namibia, Africa, where I volunteered for two months with animals. Soon it will take me to Australia, to do a similar project, which will undoubtedly end with me being eaten by sharks. Today I’m going to share with you my experience with my frenemies that I left behind in Namibia – the hairy, dangerous and incredible baboons.

I faced many challenges as a first-time volunteer. Culture shock and sunburns were topping the list until I was put in Snoobab (read it backwards); the team that handled the baboons on a daily basis. From afar, to a newcomer, they seemed cute and playful; innocent. I was soon going to learn that they are much, much more than that.

My first lesson was about their weapons. I suddenly understood why a group of baboons are called a troop. They picked up on my nervousness immediately when I entered their enclosure. Watching me with piercing eyes, they kept at a distance until help from outside couldn’t reach me. Then they attacked. Their ears backwards, slick against their heads, screeching until they bit down on – my legs, arms, stomach, and one even got a piece of my butt. They clawed at me with nails so sharp that I still have scars.

The explanation for their behavior is the strict hierarchy baboons live in. They have a dominant male or female, who is strongest, that leads the troop. She protects them from dangers and takes care of the youngest. She also bites and chases the ones that fall out of line. No one likes to be at the bottom of a class system. The lower ones therefore always looks for someone they can put under themselves, and that day they found one – me.

“You lack true dominance,” said one of my coordinators. “You have to be able to stare them down. You have to project that if they hurt you, you will hurt them.”
“I can’t hurt them,” I responded, surprised. He sighed, loudly, “you white women are all the same – clueless to reality. This is Africa.”

From that day forward, I worked on my backbone. I straightened my shoulders. I kept my head high. And I got bitten and scratched – again and again. Until the day I realized that if I wanted to stop being prey, I would have to stop acting like it. Not a word escaped my lips as they came towards me. My heart was beating faster than the wings of a hummingbird. The first one bit me. I didn’t move an inch until the dominant female scratched my legs, and I turned my head to her and our eyes locked – she saw that I had changed, but saw it too late. I grabbed her by the neck and flung her as hard as I could. She got up seconds later – but didn’t come for me again. I was stronger than her, she knew that now. The rest of the troop stopped as well: there was a new leader in the enclosure. Me.

Thank you, Ragnhild, for this anecdote that teaches us about being confident. Not only did you stare fear in the face, but you showed it who is boss!

Have you ever had a similar experience in which you had to put on your big girl pants and do something you weren’t completely comfortable with? The few times I’ve ridden horses, I wanted to let them do their own thing, but that usually left me stranded yards behind the rest of the group. In the end, I learned you can cultivate a nurturing relationship with them while still kindly showing them who is boss. With kinkajous, though… it’s another story.

Be sure to follow Green Lights Ahead for updates on more animal + travel stories!

Interested in having a guest post on my blog? Shoot me an email: smvenzel@gmail.com. Blogging is all about being connected!

All photos for this post are copyright of Ragnhild S., Green Lights Ahead.

 

The Show Must Go On!

The beauty of live theatre is that the show must go on, no matter what. When I played Nurse Kelly in Harvey last January, one of the set’s doors fell off its hinges mid-performance. We fixed it during a black out because–the show must go on! During my run as Janet Davis in Marrying Terry, the lead forgot part of her costume, a black skirt. But I lived only 5 minutes away and a black skirt was hanging neatly (?) in my closet, so 10 minutes before curtain, a crew member grabbed the keys to another crew member’s car and drove me in costume to my apartment. I looked a bit out of place running around the parking lot in high heels and an elegant pink dress, highly overdressed amidst the Florida Keys casual wear of tank tops and flip flops. But you know what they say; the show must go on!

Never have I known this adage to be more true than with the production of Challenger. On April 7, I debut as NASA astronaut Judith Resnik, a role for which I spent hours tutoring myself from YouTube how to speak a Hebrew prayer.

Just how many things can go wrong in a production run? Let me break it down for you.

In January, the cast was announced. Just as we were beginning weekly rehearsals in February, one of the lead astronauts dropped out due to time commitment issues. No worries; we found a replacement two weeks later. But during that time, another lead dropped out for personal reasons. No worries; we found a replacement. But then, without warning, we lost the replacement for that first astronaut again.

Then, the fundraising party that we spent hours planning was cancelled. (It’s hard to throw a party when you don’t have a budget to throw a party.)

Photo credit: Rocket Theatre Lab. Bio credits: Stacey Venzel.

Last month, three hours after we left rehearsal, a gas explosion rocked the neighborhood, originating across the street from the playhouse. The theatre’s door blew out. No worries; the community came together. The door was replaced and we now wear our shoes at rehearsal to avoid scraping our feet on the itty bitty glass particles buried throughout the carpet post-explosion.

But then last week our replacement to replace the replaced replacement dropped out. That’s right. We lost a lead one week before the curtain goes up. But, well, you know… the show must go on!

Our dedicated, albeit a bit overwhelmed, assistant director stepped in, splitting the role with another actor the director pulled in. The drawing bowl was narrow for this astronaut role as race plays an integral part. (Aside from being remembered for its disastrous and untimely end, the Challenger was legendary for the diversity of its crew members).

This play has certainly been challenging in its road to fruition. It would seem it is, indeed, aptly named. But so far, somehow, for now, the show is progressing toward opening night.

How is the story of the Challenger space shuttle told in this production? Here’s the director’s beautiful synopsis of this devised, fringe theatre piece:

Credit: Rocket Theatre Lab.

If you find yourself in Seattle April 7, 8, 15 or 16, you’ll want to grab tickets to see this performance, the epitome of “the show must go on!” If you live oceans away, perhaps you can instead reflect on the legacy these heroic explorers of space left behind. They are a reminder that we must reach for the stars. As friends of Judy Resnik say, she would be the first to pick up and continue with space exploration despite the disaster.

 

How Well Do You Know Me?

In honor of April Fool’s Day–a day in which gullible people like me are exposed, but pranksters…like me…get to shine–I’m going to test your knowledge of the adventurous nomad behind this blog. I’ve done some crazy things, but just HOW crazy?

Try this quiz below to find out. But pay attention… I try to trick you!

True or False?

1. I am writing a book on guinea pigs.
2. I have been held hostage by a monkey.
3. I stranded myself on a terrace in Europe.
4. I once ate a cricket.
5. I know how to sing “Happy Birthday” in German.
6. I flew co-pilot over the Bahamas island chain.
7. I learned to drive manual in Portugal.
8. I won a race in the Scottish Highland Games.
9. I jumped off a cliff into a waterfall in the jungle.
10. I am an alumnus of an improv comedy troupe.
11. I accidentally swallowed some of the Dead Sea.
12. I played street guitars in London.
13. I have had a lot of old lady roommates.
14. I butchered a dead horse in Texas.
15. I worked at panda and elephant sanctuaries in Asia.
16. I danced to Lady Gaga’s Pokerface on the London Tube.
17. I did a handstand on the Great Wall of China.
18. I have wrangled a venomous snake.
19. I got my ears pierced in a market in South America.

Answers… with proof!

1.  False. Though guinea pigs are one of my favorite animals, so are turtles! My book on turtles is due out in Winter 2016.
2. True. Monkeys often hung on the doorknobs of the hut I lived in in the Amazon, thereby locking me inside.
3. False. I locked myself out on a third-story terrace in Peru for 5 hours.
4. True. I ate a street cricket in Mexico to partake in the “cultural experience.” I also ate a fish eyeball in Brazil. It was chewy and salty. I do not recommend it.
5. False. I know “Happy Birthday” in Portuguese! I learned it from a Brasilian boy while building a school there.
6. True. The end of my time in the Bahamas went out with a bang. A member of Parliament was also aboard the 8-passenger aircraft!
7. True. A spontaneous road trip with a car full of automatic drivers led to this surprise! While I successfully avoided any accidents and have driven stick in other situations out of necessity, I do not consider myself skilled in manual driving. (Read: Don’t trust me with your stick shift vehicle.)
8. True. Running the race was spontaneous but remains one of my fondest travel memories.
9. True. I did so more than once in Mindo, Ecuador. Evidently, I’ve got a thing for jumping off cliffs…
10. True. I was a member of the Babbling Bishops, my university’s improv comedy troupe. Ohio Wesleyan’s mascot is the Battling Bishop.  (Improvers like puns.)
11. False. But floating in the Dead Sea is on my bucket list.
12. False. I played street pianos, part of the international Play Me I’m Yours project.
13. True. I’ve rented rooms from a number of elderly women, including a 90-year-old blind and deaf British lady who shared her survival of the WWII bombings with me.
14. True. Animal rescue is dirty work, but feeding out a dead horse teaches you about the cycle of life.
15. False. Add it to the bucket list. Animal exploitation is big in Asia; most tourists just aren’t aware of the consequences of riding elephants and cuddling pandas or tigers.
16. False. I danced to Beyonce’s Single Ladies on the London Tube. I did a literal interpretation to Lady Gaga’s Pokerface on-stage in the Florida Keys.
17. False. Not yet, but add a visit to the Great Wall of China to the bucket list.
18. True. I hooked a Gaboon viper in Mexico. I’ve also worked with a number of constrictors.
19. True. I was 21 when I got my ears pierced in Ecuador. I don’t recommend you get your ears pierced in the market of a developing country. Infection is inevitable.

Well, blogging world (and faithful friends who support my writing endeavors and adventurous spirit), how well did you do? Leave a comment below.

Thanks for stopping by and getting to know me!

 

7 Things I Wish Everyone Understood About Anxiety

One of my greatest struggles with anxiety stems from a societal misunderstanding about what exactly anxiety is. Because of this, I have been sharing my story in snippets here and there, the ups and downs of my mental health over the years.

Education is the key to change. The first step to understanding something is being open to learning about it. I hope one day we can live in a world where engaging in therapy, meditation and mindfulness are not seen as the acts of crazy people. I hope one day we can all understand that we are human, we are emotional, and we need each other. I hope one day we can converse honestly about who we are without fear of rejection.

Here are 7 things I wish everyone understood about anxiety:

1. Anxiety is real.

Anxiety is not all wrapped up in the head. It is coupled with intense physical symptoms. It is not someone being a hypochondriac. It is not unwarranted. And, it is the most common mental disorder in the United States.

2. Anxiety is normal.

If a bear was rushing toward you in the woods and your reaction was to shrug your shoulders and say, “Whatever,” you’d be screwed.

Fear and anxiety are natural. Anxious thoughts are fed by instincts and heightened by experiences; to some degree, worry and nervousness are normal. Anxiety is a state of self-preservation. Without it, we’d all be bear meat. It is when the anxiety becomes persistent that it is classified as a disorder.

When you tell anxious people that their worries are irrational, you are forgetting that their triggers are shaped by a lifetime of circumstances. Okay, so that man on the bus isn’t staring your friend down with the intention to mug her. But maybe she was mugged before, and now she’s on edge, paranoid, perpetually in self-defense mode.

Anxious people are working on distinguishing between real and perceived fears, but they’ve got a background story they’re also sifting through.

3. Anxiety is not a sign of weakness.

Emotions show our humanity. Sometimes those emotions become overwhelming. Taking positive steps toward controlling them takes an incredible amount of strength, a fortitude that people with good mental health might never know. People seeking to improve their well-being should be given a pat on the back, not have backs turned to them.

Additionally, society holds such a negative connotation of treatment that using it as a resource is scorned. While unlocking the mechanisms to deal with anxiety comes from within, very rarely can this be done alone. An individual might have all the tools to improve his or her well-being, but sometimes he or she needs to be directed to them, be that through a counselor, self-help books, group meditation, medication or even a friend.

Saying “there’s nothing wrong with you” to an anxious person is a slap in the face. Anxious people don’t love themselves any less. They do, however, recognize that they don’t feel well and are taking healthy steps toward feeling better.

4. Anxiety does not prevent happiness and fulfillment.

Happy people have anxiety, too. Anxiety-ridden people are leading fulfilling, soul-searching lives. Many worrisome individuals even turn uncertainty into productivity. Adrenaline rushes can be used to do good.

5. Anxiety does not go away.

There is no cure for anxiety. How can we cure something that is innate and natural? Again, we’d all be bear meat. Instead, treatment for anxiety disorders covers coping techniques. Getting to a point of stability is not an easy fix but rather a process. These strategies minimize the anxiety but they do not—they cannot and should not—eradicate it.

6. Anxiety should be talked about.

From social to intimate and professional settings, a stigma is placed on mental health disorders. They are seen as taboo. In fact, this stigma is a major contributing factor to the reason 60% of people with mental health disorders never get the treatment they need.

When I went through Hurricane Joaquin, I found that the best treatment for dealing with the traumatic event has been to talk about it. I have found strength within myself through others, from those who sat down, asked how I really, truly was, and offered their complete, focused attention—time and again. During relief efforts, I witnessed healing in island survivors when I myself took over the role of listener and followed them as they led me through the remains of their homes and told me their stories, pointing to the tree they clung to or the crawl space they climbed into.

When people with anxiety talk about anxiety, they are not looking for sympathy or answers. They are seeking an outlet to purge, accept, cope, learn and move on.

7. Anxiety should not be avoided.

Try this experiment. Close your eyes and picture a pink elephant. Imagine how it looks, feels, sounds, what it is doing. Now open your eyes and clear your mind for a minute. Close your eyes again, but this time, don’t think about the pink elephant. Wait a minute and then open your eyes.

Chances are, you literally thought about the elephant in the room.

If you are a smoker trying to quit, your urge to smoke is only heightened by constantly trying to smother the desire with thoughts of not smoking. If you’re cutting out sweets from your diet, repeating over and over that you should not eat that cookie only increases your want for that cookie. Suppressing negative thoughts—don’ts and no’s—is a torturous mind game.

Western culture nurtures a sense of avoidance, not commitment. But this backfires in a progressive nation. It creates unreliable relationships, uncomfortable work settings and missed deadlines. It undoes the very thing it was meant to fix.

In contrast, accepting and acknowledging situations, such as anxious thoughts and sensations, is the only way to deal with a hardship. Pretending it doesn’t exist or brushing it under the rug doesn’t make it go away; the problem is simply hiding, waiting to rear its head unexpectedly.

If someone you know is experiencing anxious thoughts, resist saying, “Don’t think about it.” Trust me, then he or she is definitely thinking about it.

Have you encountered similar misunderstandings when it comes to anxiety? Do you have a special coping mechanism? Share your thoughts in the comments below.

5 Lessons We Can All Learn from Alcoholics Anonymous

Recently, I attended an AA meeting. I am not an alcoholic. I’ve been sober since I came out of the womb. But I have friends to whom I offer my support, and there is nothing I wouldn’t do for my friends.

Some of the most beautiful people I know have the darkest pasts. It is a special moment when they share these times with me and allow me to ask questions that they answer honestly and entirely.

AA meetings, by the very definition of the name, are anonymous. And so I will not dive into the personal narratives shared, or the hodgepodge of non-stereotypical attendees. I will, however, speak to you about the strength of this program.

What can we all learn from AA?

#1: The best way to survive on this earth is with mutual aid fellowship.

AA is rooted in this understanding, that group members are both providers and recipients of the intended goal. In the case of AA, that goal is sobriety. If we applied this to our world at large, perhaps we could be one step closer to ending world poverty and achieving world peace. Maybe the medical sector would be run by scientists instead of pharmaceutical companies. Maybe government leaders would be influenced by morals and the voice of the people instead of money.

What happens if we apply this to us on an individual scale? Perhaps we can strengthen marriages or lean on each other to calm anxiety within ourselves. In trying times, we are all we’ve got.

#2: Everyone deserves a second chance.

English poet Alexander Pope said it best: “To err is human; to forgive, divine.” People make mistakes. Victims can choose to run away or offer forgiveness. Oftentimes, individuals who choose to overcome hardship utilize their past to better their future. AA, for example, encourages members to make amends to those wronged and to follow up with continuous “personal inventory” of future actions. Recovering alcoholics remind us how powerful and successful restorative, not retributive, justice is when dealing with righting wrongs.

#3: Self-reflection is a necessary part of living.

AA stresses believing in yourself. Though the program is founded upon spirituality—God as we understand Him—ultimately the 12 steps are about bettering one’s self. The guidelines encourage people to take responsibility for their actions. They invite individuals to face their fears and resentments head on so that they can tackle them whenever these feelings rise up.

My travels have taught me the importance, the necessity, the sacred nature of self-worth, understanding and acceptance. Like AA, my vagabond tendencies have impressionably opened my eyes to alone time and the journey toward knowing and appreciating one’s self that accompanies such inevitably reflective moments. This all culminates in a more compassionate individual. If every member of your community made time for self-reflection, imagine the honesty, humility and generosity that would arise.

Furthermore, AA is a judgment-free program. It teaches us that not only are there others not judging us, but also that we should not judge ourselves. By overcoming self-loathing, we give greater focus to our talents and passions. We teach ourselves that we can be anything we want to be.

#4: Life is best lived one day at a time.

Our past shapes us, our present defines us and our future encourages us. As the saying goes, “Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery.” There are a lot of maybes that arise when we face change. Turmoil can result from worrying about the before and after. If we all took life by the reins one day at a time, imagine how peaceful this earth might be.

Life can be hard; there is no denying that. Death is inevitable. Break-ups suck. Taxes are a pain. Mother Nature is unpredictable. The list goes on and on. But when we are overwhelmed with the big picture, baby steps can help us to reach our goals. Reciting the Serenity Prayer, a mantra at AA meetings, is an especially helpful reminder to live for today. It is a constant in my battle with anxiety. The prayer teaches us that happiness is found by living in the moment, not dwelling on things beyond our control.

#5: We are not alone in our problems.

Addiction comes in many forms; it can happen to anyone. Many in today’s society are addicted to social media. Kids are addicted to technology. We can be controlled by food, sex, money, exercise, self-image and materialism.

Addiction has no face. Your kid’s teacher may struggle with pornography. Your daughter may battle anorexia. Your college lab partner might be addicted to sex. Old Mr. Johnson next door might have a gambling addiction.

Our imperfections, struggles, problems and fears are viewed as shameful by society. Instead of reaching out, we feel alone. We close ourselves off in secrecy and try to take on the world without any outside help. But when we share our issues, we open ourselves up to each other. We build community. And, ultimately, we realize we’re not alone.

AA open meetings invite anyone wanting to help alcoholics achieve sobriety to attend. Some meetings are closed in which only alcoholics and recovering alcoholics are welcome; some are only for men and others for women. Meetings are either speaker-based or discussion-oriented. Al-Anon, another program I have participated in, is for families and friends of alcoholics, whether or not the individual recognizes his or her addiction. Both programs are self-sustaining and self-funded.