Borchard is a mental health writer and activist who primarily focuses on depression, nutrition and holistic health. She founded an online community for people who struggle with depression and regularly contributes to Everyday Health, among many other publications.
In the 1978 film, “Ice Castles” (remade in 2010), a talented figure skater (Lynn-Holly Johnson) is close to accomplishing her dream of becoming a champion skater when a tragic accident renders her blind. She has to learn how to skate all over again. Especially poignant is the scene of her first competition as a blind skater. The crowd throws roses into the rink, and she needs the help of her boyfriend to pick them up.
The experience of relapse is like that.
I remember the day I stood up in a room of recovering alcoholics and collected my 24-hour chip of sobriety after years of staying clean and sober. It was humbling. But I emerged from that relapse a much wiser and resilient person.
“Fall seven times, stand up eight,” says a Japanese proverb. So it is with recovery from addiction, depression, or any ailment. We fall and, with the help of others, get up and start skating again. As painful as they are, relapses bear hidden gifts and teach us invaluable lessons. Here are just a few.
Stuck thoughts … the brick walls that form a prison around your mind. The harder you try to get rid of them, the more powerful they become. I’ve been wrestling with stuck thoughts ever since I was in fourth grade. The content or nature of the obsessions have morphed into many different animals over the course of 30-plus years, but their intensity and frequency remains unchanged. Here are some strategies I use when they make a surprise visit, techniques that help me free myself from their hold.
1. Don’t Talk Back
The first thing you want to do when you get an intrusive thought is to respond with logic. By talking back, you think you can quiet the voice. However, you actually empower the voice. You give it an opportunity to debate with you and make its case. The more you analyze the obsession –“That is a silly thought because of reasons A, B, and C” — the more attention you give it and the more intense it becomes. In “The Mindful Way through Depression,” authors Mark Williams, John Teasdale, Zindel Segal, and Jon Kabat-Zinn write, “Sorting things out and forcing a solution will always seem like the most compelling thing to do … but in fact focusing on these issues in this way is using exactly the wrong tools for the job.”
2. Know It Will Pass
I can do anything for a minute. Most things for an hour. A considerable amount for a day or two or three. Most of my intrusive thoughts—the intense phase, anyway—have a life span of two or three days. I find the obsessions much more manageable when I compare them to the cravings for alcohol I experienced in my first years of sobriety. They came with intensity and then they left. All I had to do was to bear with them for 24 hours and refrain from doing anything stupid. Then my brain would be mine again. Your stuck thoughts are not permanent. They will be gone soon enough.
3. Focus on Now
Your stuck thought is most likely based in the past (feelings of regret, etc.) or the future. Rarely are we obsessed about something that is happening in the present because we are too busy living this moment. It can seem impossible to engage with what’s happening in our world in real time when we have a riveting made-for-TV drama unfolding in our heads, but the more successful we are at tuning into the here and now, the less tormented we will be by our stuck thoughts. I try to be around people and have conversations so that I have to concentrate on what they are saying to me, not the text messages of my chattering mind.
4. Tune Into the Senses
An effective way to anchor your mind in the here and now—and away from the obsession du jour–is to tune into the senses. Our five portals to the world — seeing, smelling, tasting, feeling, and hearing — can transition us from the doing mode to the being mode. For example, I was hanging out with my daughter on her bed the other night as I obsessed about something that had happened that day: theorizing why it occurred and arriving at 342 solutions to solve the problem. My daughter grabbed my hand to hold, which rarely happens these days, and it occurred to me that I was missing out on a precious moment because of some stupid stuck thought. So I made a conscious effort to focus on her soft hand in mind. Concentrating on the texture of her skin and the sweetness of that moment led me out of my head and into reality.
5. Do Something Else
If you can, distract yourself with some other activity. You need not start an ambitious project to change gears. I mean, painting your bathroom walls could definitely do the job, but so could walking around the block or working on a word puzzle.
6. Switch Your Obsession
You might try to replace your obsession with another one that isn’t so emotional or damaging. Example: I was obsessing about something the other day when I headed to Panera Bread to write. I was intent on getting a booth, so I hung out at one of the smaller tables until I could secure one. I studied the people, their gestures … are they leaving? Another woman came in with her laptop and was also scouting tables to set up shop. I panicked. I knew she wanted a booth too. All of a sudden, all I could think about was securing a booth before she did. My old obsession vanished in light of this new, benign obsession.
7. Blame the Chemistry
I experience great relief when I remember that I am not obsessing about something because that thing is crucial to my existence and should replace priorities one, two, and three, but rather because the special biochemistry inside my noggin is wired to ruminate A LOT. The subject of the obsessions isn’t all that important. There is no catastrophic problem that needs to be solved in the next 24 hours. In fact, the unstuck thought might be 100 percent fluff, a made-up story the brain fabricated because it couldn’t find anything interesting enough in real life to warrant ruminations.
8. Picture It
I know a grade schooler who is besieged by stuck thoughts, too. He doesn’t have the life experience or the knowledge to know that these thoughts aren’t real, so when they say, “You can’t do your homework because you’re stupid,” he panics, throws pencils, shouts some crazy stuff, and exhibits bizarre behavior because he is convinced that he can’t do his homework because he is stupid. Watching this temper tantrum is helpful for me because it serves as a display of what’s going on inside my head, and when I can visualize it, I see how ridiculous it all looks.
9. Admit Powerlessness
If I have tried every technique I can think of and am still tormented by the voices inside my head, I simply cry Uncle and concede to the stuck thoughts. I get on my knees and admit powerlessness to my wonderful brain biochemistry. I stop my efforts to free myself from the obsessions’ hold and allow the ruminations to be as loud as they want and to stay as long as they want because, as I said in the first point, I know they will eventually go away.
I wrote the following post a few years ago when I was in the midst of a severe depressive episode. I wanted to repost this week as we commemorate Valentine’s Day. Most of us utter “in sickness and in health” with no view into the future, blind to the challenges that illness brings to a relationship. Although I mention the high rate of divorce among couples where one person has a mood disorder, I want to reiterate a message of hope: that love and commitment can overcome anything. Valentine’s Day is cause for celebration and a day to honor relationships that have endured the complications and difficulties of a chronic illness.
My husband asked me this morning how I slept.
I wasn’t sure if I should tell him the truth.
Yesterday was a bad day in a string of good days, which feels like a blizzard the first week of April. Aren’t we done with this?
By the time we connected at dinner, I had meditated three times, ran six miles, and had practiced every deep-breathing exercise I have learned in my mindfulness-based stress reduction (MBSR) course; however, my heart was still pounding with panic and my head was an ugly warzone. This is only a thought. Don’t fight the thought. Welcome the thought. The thought is not you. The thought is not reality.
Come evening, I was thoroughly exhausted.
Then I noticed Eric’s tired eyes.
There was an extra crease there that was absent the day before.
I’ve always envied him for his calm and grounded nature. Nicknamed “Baby Buddha” as a toddler, he would sit and construct Legos for hours, preparation for the blueprints he would draw later in his career as an architect. I often make the mistake of assuming he is incapable of feeling anxious, that he has Teflon insides immune to depression and worry.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
He looked down and then up.
His hesitation answered my question.
“It’s just hard on me when you’re not doing well,” he said.
There was nothing I could think to say.
I don’t think anyone would ever fault me for a lack of trying with regard to my health. I am doing everything that I have ever read about that has potential to relieve anxiety and depression. But have yet to be cured.
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
I could tell there was more, that he was angry.
“You look fine to the outside world, so no one thinks to ask me how I’m holding up. It’s like we’re managing this chronic mystery illness that no one knows about.”
“I’m tired,” he said with wet eyes. “I’m really tired.”
It is no wonder that marriages where one person is bipolar have a high rate of divorce. It’s understandable that depression would have a much greater impact on marital life than cardiac disease.
The spouse of a depressive or bipolar almost always is burdened by more than his share of jobs, responsibilities, and all things family life because pursuing good health is so time and energy-intensive on the part of the person with the illness. In our case, the hours invested are equivalent to a 40 hour full-time job if you add up all the extra grocery shopping and food preparation for a strict, brain-healthy diet, doctors’ visits, yoga, swimming, meditation, research, lab work, diagnostic tests. Then subtract the hours lost (not to mention the pay) due to sickness. This is all on top of an already stressful life of raising kids and, in some cases (like ours), helping elder parents pay their bills and such.
As he spoke, I was blindsided with guilt.
I pictured him with someone else, this attractive woman at our church who I sometimes tease him about. I was surprised that instead of jealousy, I felt relief – by the thought of no longer burdening him with all of my health issues, all of the gunk that has muddied the last 12 years of our marriage.
“I can’t believe he hasn’t left you,” a very candid person will occasionally say to me, for reasons I don’t understand.
I think about Laura.
I’m inspired by the love story of bestselling author Laura Hillenbrand and her husband, Borden. The extraordinary writer of “Seabiscuit” and “Unbroken” penned a piece about her life with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome for the New Yorker called “A Sudden Illness.” Borden had plenty of chances to leave Laura before they married. Many friends advised him to do just that. The two were college sweathearts back before she got sick at age 19. To everyone’s astonishment, he stayed by her side even as her crippling symptoms can keep her housebound for two years at a time. She was so sick she missed her own wedding reception. Yet they have somehow carved out a beautiful life together.
I was especially moved by her description of the evening that both of them got real and together confronted their painful reality:
He came into my office one night in June, sat down, and slid his chair up to me, touching his knees to mine. I looked at his face. He was still young and handsome, his hair black, his skin seamless. But the color was gone from his lips, the quickness from his eyes. He tried to smile, but the corners of his mouth wavered. He dropped his chin to his chest. He began to speak, and fourteen years of unvoiced emotions spilled out: the moment of watching the woman he loved suffer, his feelings of responsibility and helplessness and anger; his longing for children we probably couldn’t have; the endless strain of living in obedience to an extraordinarily volatile disease.
We talked for much of the night. I found myself revealing all the grief that I had hidden from him. When I asked him why he hadn’t said anything before, he said he thought I would shatter. I recognized that I had feared the same of him. In protecting each other from the awful repercussions of our misfortune, we had become strangers….
We spent a long, painful summer talking, and for both of us there were surprises. I didn’t shatter, and neither did he. I prepared myself for him to leave, but he didn’t. We became, for the first time since our days at Kenyon, alive with each other.
“How did you sleep?” Eric asked me this morning.
I didn’t want him to shatter. But I didn’t want to start becoming strangers, either.
Prayer has always been a foundation in my recovery from depression. I often read the The Psalms to reassure me that God is with me in my struggle. Here are seven other favorite prayers.
What are yours?
The Serenity Prayer by Reinhold Niebuhr
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him Forever in the next.
Prayer by Thomas Merton
My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this
you will lead me by the right road
though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore will I trust you always
though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me,
and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.
The Third Step Prayer
God, I offer myself to Thee …
to build with me and to do with me as Thou wilt.
Relieve me of the bondage of self,
that I may better do Thy will.
Take away my difficulties,
that victory over them may bear witness to those I would help
of Thy Power, Thy Love, and Thy Way of life.
May I do Thy will always!
Remember O Most gracious Virgin Mary,
that never was it known that anyone who fled to your protection,
implored your help,
or sought your intercession
was left unaided.
Inspired by this confidence,
I fly to you, O Virgin of virgins, my mother.
To you I come;
before you I stand, sinful and sorrowful.
O Mother of the Word Incarnate,
despise not my petitions,
but in your mercy, hear and answer me.
Prayer by John Henry Newman
Help me to spread Your fragrance everywhere I go.
Flood my soul with Your spirit and life.
Penetrate and possess my whole being so utterly,
that my life may only be a radiance of Yours.
Shine through me, and be so in me
that every soul I come in contact with may feel Your presence in my soul.
Let them look up and see no longer me,
but only Jesus!
Stay with me and then I shall begin to shine as you shine,
so to shine as to be a light to others;
the light, O Jesus will be all from You;
none of it will be mine;
it will be you, shining on others through me.
Let me thus praise You the way You love best,
by shining on those around me.
Let me preach You without preaching,
not by words but by my example,
by the catching force of the sympathetic influence of what I do,
the evident fullness of the love my heart bears to You.
St. Teresa of Avila’s “Bookmark”
Let nothing disturb you.
Let nothing frighten you.
All things are passing.
God alone is changeless
He who has patience wants for nothing
He who has God has all things.
God alone suffices.
Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury,pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek?to be consoled as to console;?to be understood as to understand;?to be loved as to love.?For it is in giving that we receive;?it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;?and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen
I will always remember the therapy session 12 years ago in which my therapist told me I smelled.
“Have you been showering?” she asked me.
“Yes,” I responded sheepishly.
“How often?” she inquired.
“I don’t know … a few times a week,” I said.
“Well, you should really shower every day, because you have some stink to you, and I’m concerned that you are not taking care of yourself.”
When you’re depressed, maintaining an attractive appearance is the last thing you are concerned about. Even personal hygiene can fall by the wayside. In fact, these are two classic symptoms used to diagnose a person with major depressive disorder. However, by washing our hair and applying a little make up we might benefit our mood more than we think.
In a 2009 study by the London College of Fashion, students polled 1,026 people and found that 85 percent of women believed that wearing make up helped lift their mood on a bad day. A friend told me this the other day. When her nephew died, she stopped wearing make-up for six months. One morning she made a concerted effort to start wearing it again, and she believes that helped communicate to her brain a message of optimism and hope.
“It’s sort of like the fake it til you make it thing,” she explained to me.
In another study by psychologists at the University of Hertfordshire, it was determined that what you wear strongly affects your mood. One hundred women were asked what they wore when feeling depressed, and more than half said jeans. In a low mood, 57 percent of the women said they would also wear a baggy top. When they felt good, participants disclosed that they were ten times more likely to wear a favorite dress.
Professor Karen Pine, lead author of the study, said, “This finding shows that clothing doesn’t just influence others, it reflects and influences the wearer’s mood too. Many of the women in this study felt they could alter their mood by changing what they wore. This demonstrates the psychological power of clothing and how the right choices could influence a person’s happiness.”
Even so-called retail therapy can benefit a person gripped by sadness or anxiety.
This has always worked for my sister. She and I have spent the same amount of money: she buys clothes, and I pay for sessions of therapy. In the end, I’d like to believe my counseling and cognitive-behavioral techniques have helped me more than her stylish outfits with matching accessories have helped her. But I can’t say for sure, because she always looks great and is generally pretty happy. (Of course, she isn’t bipolar and doesn’t have the severity of my depression.)
I understand the benefits of a little superficiality. I don’t like to admit this, but every time I get hair highlights I feel better about myself and notice a boost in my mood. Sitting in that cushy chair like an alien — with a bunch of tin foil in my hair – is absolutely an exercise in shallowness. And yet the time spent in the chair and the hundred bucks I fork over for a little blonde could very well be as an effective as my hour in therapy to lift me from depression.
People say sometimes that Beauty is superficial. That may be so. But at least it is not so superficial as Thought is. To me, Beauty is the wonder of wonders. It is only shallow people who do not judge by appearances. The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible.
This axis of evil makes January 24th score lowest on the national mood barometer. In a twisted sort of way, that means I will feel good on January 24. Because I’m SUPPOSED to feel bad, which will create less pressure for me to feel happy, like say on the first warm spring day.
So do we stay hidden from the world under the covers? No. Try these tips for one day.
1. Watch the sugar.
People with depression and addicts need to be especially careful with sweets because the addiction to sugar and white-flour products is very real and physiological, affecting the same biochemical systems in your body as other drugs like heroin. According to Kathleen DesMaisons, author of “Potatoes Not Prozac”: Your relationship to sweet things is operating on a cellular level. It is more powerful than you have realized…. What you eat can have a huge effect on how you feel.”
2. Use a light lamp.
Bright-light therapy–involving sitting in front of a fluorescent light box that delivers an intensity of 10,000 lux–can be as effect as antidepressant medication for mild and moderate depression and can yield substantial relief for Seasonal Affective Disorder.
3. Wear bright colors.
I have no research supporting this theory, but I’m quite convinced there is a link between feeling optimistic and sporting bright colors. It’s in line with “faking it ’til you make it,” desperate attempts to trick your brain into thinking that it’s sunny and beautiful outside-time to celebrate Spring!-even though it’s a blizzard with sleet causing some major traffic jams.
4. Force yourself outside.
I realize that the last thing you want to do when it’s 20 degrees outside and the roads are slushy is to head outside for a leisurely stroll around the neighborhood. In late January and early February, when my brain is done with the darkness, I have to literally force myself outside, however brief because even on cloudy and overcast days, your mood can benefit from exposure to sunlight. Midday light, especially, provides Vitamin D to help boost your limbic system, the emotional center of the brain.
Every year on MLK, Jr. Day, I like to repost my dream.
In celebration of Martin Luther King, Jr.:
I have a dream that one day I won’t hold my breath every time I tell a person that I suffer from bipolar disorder, that I won’t feel shameful in confessing my mood disorder.
I have a dream that people won’t feel the need to applaud me for my courage on writing and speaking publicly about my illness, because the diagnosis of depression and bipolar disorder would be understood no differently than that of diabetes, arthritis, or dementia.
I have a dream that the research into genetics of mood disorders will continue to pinpoint specific genes that may predispose individuals and families to depression and bipolar disorder (like the gene G72/G30, located on chromosome 13q), just as specific genes associated with schizophrenia and obsessive-compulsive disorder have been located and identified.
I have a dream that brain-imaging technology will continue to advance in discovering what, exactly, is going on inside the brain, that a neurological perspective coupled with a biochemical approach to mental illness will develop targeted treatments: new medication and better response to particular medications–that we can cut out that painful trial-and-error process.
I have a dream depressives won’t have to risk their jobs in divulging their condition, that employers will respond more empathetically to the country’s 7.8 million working depressives, that the general public will be more educated on mental illness so that it doesn’t cost this country more than $44 billion each year (like it does now).
I have a dream that families, friends, and co-workers will show kindness to depressives, not reproach them for not being stronger, for not having enough will power and discipline and incentive to get well, for not snapping out of it, for not being grateful enough, for not seeing the cup half full, for not controlling their emotions.
I have a dream that tabloids like “In Touch Weekly” won’t lump allegations of Britney Spears’ taking antidepressants into the same category as her 24-hour marriage, all-night clubbing, and pantyless photos–that our world might be more sophisticated and informed than that.
I have a dream that people will no longer use the following terms to describe persons with mental illness: fruity, loony, wacky, nutty, cuckoo, loopy, crazy, wacko, gonzo, nutso, batty, bonkers, ditzy, bananas, and crazy.
I have a dream that spiritual leaders might preach compassion to persons with mental illness, not indict them for not praying hard enough, or in the right way, or often enough, and that judgmental new-age thinkers who blame all illness on blocked energy (in chakras one through seven) might be enlightened to understand that fish oil, mindfulness meditation, and acupuncture can’t cure everything.
I have a dream that health insurance companies will stop serving Satan, and read a medical report every now and then, where they would learn that depression is a legitimate, organic brain disease, and that those who suffer from it aren’t a bunch of weak, pathetic people who can’t cope with life’s hard knocks.
I dream that one day depression won’t destroy so many marriages and families, that better and faster treatment will work in favor of every form of intimacy.
I have a dream that suicide won’t take more lives than traffic accidents, lung disease, or AIDS, that together we can do better to reduce the 30,000 suicides that happen annually in the United States, and that communities will lovingly embrace those friends and families of persons who ran out of hope, instead of simply ignoring the tragedy or attaching fault where none should be.
I have a dream that one day depression, bipolar disorder, and all kinds of mood disorders will lose their stigma, that I won’t have to whisper the word “Zoloft” to the pharmacist at Rite Aid, that people will be able to have loud conversations in coffee shops about how they treat their depression.
Mostly, I dream about a day when I can wake up and think about coffee first thing in the morning, rather than my mood–is it a serene one, a panicked one, or somewhere in between?–and fretting about whether or not I’m heading toward the black hole of despair. I dream that I’ll never ever have to go back to that harrowing and lonely place of depression. That no one else should have to either. But if they do (or if I do), that they not give up hope. Because eventually their tomorrow will be better than their today. And they will be able to dream again too.
This is a guest post by Mark R. He does a great job of addressing many of the misconceptions associated with depression and articulating the chronic nature of the beast–helping loved ones and friends who haven’t experienced a mood disorder understand the illness better. He ends with hope. And I want to reiterate — there is always hope.
Sometimes depression is not what most people think it is.
Sometimes depression doesn’t make you hide under your bedsheets or eat ice cream from the carton or weep in your therapist’s office, or any of the other tropes from movies and TV.
Sometimes depression is not easy to define or even understand; less like a big, dark ominous cloud and more like a tense conversation that you overhear but can’t make out the words, only the tone of the voices. Sometimes depression feels like a cliché, and sometimes it’s as unique as you are in the universe at this very moment.
Sometimes depression doesn’t stop you from going through your day and trying to manage your responsibilities like everyone else. Sometimes you seem normal on the surface, even when you’re carrying the burden of depression alone in your soul.
Sometimes you wish you didn’t feel compelled to hide the despair within you, to show a brave face to the world and then withdraw to a bathroom stall at work, quietly sobbing because so much is overwhelming and there’s no relief in sight. Sometimes there are no tears, only sluggish emptiness.
Sometimes depression takes a vacation from tormenting you, maybe an hour or an afternoon, occasionally for days. Sometimes you feel real joy in those moments, and you’re able to laugh and love and you wonder if this is how most people experience life. Sometimes you even forget about the darkness, until it subtly creeps back upon you. Sometimes it occupies a small corner of your life, and sometimes there is nothing else but depression.
Sometimes depression doesn’t overwhelm you with grief. Sometimes it’s a little voice that whispers to you, “you’re not worth it.” Sometimes that voice doesn’t hurt you at the moment you hear it. Sometimes it’s the 10th time, or 100th, or 1000th before you start to believe it.
Sometimes depression doesn’t stop you from being grateful for everything you have. Sometimes you can love others deeply even when you can’t love yourself.
Sometimes depression doesn’t mean you want to harm yourself. Sometimes thinking about death doesn’t mean you want to die, it means you think about what the world would be like without you in it, maybe from a fatal disease or accident. Sometimes you wonder if you’d feel relief if your doctor gave you an expiration date. Sometimes you skip over the death entirely to ponder what happens after, whether you’d leave behind a legacy or the universe would simply carry on, unaware.
Sometimes you wonder if anyone would miss you if cancer took you, if your absence would really affect anyone else’s lives, if anyone would shed a tear besides reflexive weeping at your funeral, and sometimes you fear how few of them would. Sometimes the thought of an empty funeral is scary.
Sometimes depression has companions, other illnesses and disorders and behaviors that amplify your depression and each other. Sometimes depression causes physical pain in your nerves, your muscles, your joints. Sometimes it’s impossible to tell where one condition ends and the next one begins. Sometimes you wish you knew if one is causing the others or if they gain strength by feeding off each other in an endless loop.
Sometimes depression makes you turn your back on those you love or run from the people who bring joy to your life, because you feel at your core you don’t deserve them. Sometimes you think that they agree.
Sometimes depression is all of these things. Sometimes it’s none of these things. Sometimes you are acutely aware of all of these feelings. Sometimes you know nothing more than you simply don’t feel right.
Sometimes you want people to leave you alone, because you don’t know what to say to them about how you feel. Sometimes you worry that your depression is hurting them too.
Sometimes you crave someone to hug you tight, to love you unconditionally, to encourage you and stand with you as you seek treatment. Sometimes all you want to hear is that, despite what you feel at this moment, the world is still beautiful, you’re still capable of happiness and worthy of receiving it, and the future still holds amazing possibilities.
Sometimes there is still hope. Sometimes that’s enough.
The season has arrived when we give ourselves an annual review and pick a few ways we can improve our health, our parenting, our faith life, or maybe our attitude. Among the most popular New Year’s resolutions are losing weight, eating better, being more organized, living life to the fullest, learning new hobbies, and spending less (or saving more).
We could sum up all of these adjustments in just one resolution: to be more productive. Getting things done in an efficient manner helps us to stay healthy, try new things, manage money, get organized, and enjoy life a little more.
Being more productive doesn’t have to involve a major overhaul of our schedules and priorities. It doesn’t even require more time or energy. Increased productivity is a result of incorporating into our hours and days some simple habits. Here are a few to start with, some easy adjustments that you can make in the new year that will help you to get more things done and leave you feeling more productive and accomplished in 2018.
Read Full Article
Read for later
Articles marked as Favorite are saved for later viewing.
Scroll to Top
Separate tags by commas
To access this feature, please upgrade your account.