mind, thought and consciousness – Novelist of YA Psychological Mysteries, YA Fantasy Books & Dark Noir Suspense Thrillers

The Language of Survival: On Mental Illness, Resilience, and First Love

I’ve always believed that the most courageous stories are not about rescue, but about return—how we come back to ourselves after the mind has turned against us. When I write about mental illness, I don’t write from a distance. I write from the thin edge of it—from the quiet hours where thought unravels and the only lifeline is language. Each of my novels—Secret Whispers, Déjà Vu, and Of Laughter & Heartbreak—was born out of that liminal space between fear and faith, between survival and surrender.

These books aren’t companions by chronology, but by spirit. Each follows a young woman whose inner world threatens to eclipse the outer one, and each discovers that love—whether romantic, platonic, or self-forged—is the most powerful form of recovery we have.

1. The Mind as Haunted House: Secret Whispers

When I wrote Secret Whispers, I began with an image: a house stitched together by secrets, its silence louder than any scream. Inside it lives Adria—a painter, sister, caretaker, and reluctant witness to her own unraveling.

Schizophrenia shadows her family line, coiling like a whispered curse. Her brother’s breakdown has already split the household in half. Her mother holds everything together with brittle faith. And Adria, caught between caretaking and collapse, begins to hear the same whispers that once took him away.

I wanted to write honestly about what it means to live with a mind you can’t fully trust—the terror of not knowing whether what you see is symptom or sight. But I also wanted to write about love: the improbable, incandescent kind that dares to root itself in fractured soil.

In Secret Whispers, love doesn’t save Adria. It steadies her. The boy who sees her—awkward, hopeful, honest—doesn’t fix her illness; he becomes a mirror in which she can see more than diagnosis. Their love flickers like a candle in a draft, fragile yet real, proof that connection is possible even when perception splinters.

Adria’s resilience isn’t loud. It’s made of small gestures: washing a brush, opening a window, whispering not today when the shadows come. Recovery, I learned while writing her, is not a staircase but a spiral—you circle the same fears until you finally face them without flinching.

2. Déjà Vu: The Loops of the Bipolar Mind

If Secret Whispers was about hearing too much, Déjà Vu was about feeling too much—about living inside a mind where memory and mania blur.

Ivy Lancaster is eighteen, brilliant, impulsive, and newly diagnosed with bipolar disorder. She experiences life in echoes: every stranger’s face feels familiar, every nightmare seems rehearsed, every choice loops back like a record caught on its scratch.

The first time I wrote Ivy walking through the parking lot at dawn, barefoot and disoriented, I felt the pulse of the entire novel—this young woman spinning in the orbit of her own brain, terrified of herself yet desperate to be believed.

Déjà Vu is not just a psychological thriller; it’s an emotional x-ray of bipolarity. Mania is painted not as glamour but as velocity—the thrill that burns. Depression is written not as stillness but as suffocation. Yet in between, there’s the quiet miracle of awareness.

And there is love. Love arrives in Ivy’s world not as romance, but as recognition: people who refuse to define her by her disorder, who remind her that she exists beyond chemical imbalance. Love, in this book, is accountability—the friend who says take your meds, the parent who whispers you are more than your mind, the stranger who looks her in the eye when she feels invisible.

Resilience here is not recovery in the clinical sense. It’s survival as rebellion. It’s Ivy saying, I may live inside loops, but I can still choose where to step next.

When readers tell me Déjà Vu helped them feel seen—that it mirrored their manic spirals or the hollow aftermath—I’m reminded why I write these stories. To dismantle stigma. To remind us that living with mental illness is not a flaw in character, but a feat of endurance.

3. Of Laughter & Heartbreak: OCD and the Art of Staying

By the time I wrote Of Laughter & Heartbreak, I wanted to explore a different texture of the mind: the obsessive, ritualized patterns of control that masquerade as safety.

Stevie Matthews is almost sixteen. Her thoughts arrive like barbed wire; her rituals multiply like vines. When the summer’s order collapses, she’s hospitalized—a space she never asked for, but where, for the first time, she meets others who understand the language of compulsion.

OCD, for Stevie, is both prison and prayer. Her rituals aren’t about superstition; they’re about trying to keep the world from shattering. I wrote her story as both confession and communion—a letter to anyone who’s ever mistaken coping for control.

Behind those locked doors, Stevie meets her mirror selves: the anxious boy who collects facts like talismans, the quiet girl who hides notes to her future self, the nurse who knows that healing isn’t linear. Together they build something like family—a map stitched from shared fragments of hope.

This novel, like the others, carries the pulse of first love—not in grand gestures, but in small acts of belief. The hand that steadies hers during a panic spiral. The smile that says you are not too much. The love that grows not in spite of illness, but within it. Because love, at its truest, doesn’t demand wholeness—it meets you in the fragments and stays.

4. The Quiet Revolution of Survival

Each of these novels began with illness, but each ends with something larger: a reclamation of humanity.

In Secret Whispers, Adria learns that her art can hold what her mind cannot.
In Déjà Vu, Ivy redefines truth beyond the lens of mania.
In Of Laughter & Heartbreak, Stevie learns that control is not safety, and surrender is not defeat.

Together, they form a kind of triptych about resilience—the quiet kind that never makes headlines. They remind me that mental illness and first love often share the same vocabulary: vulnerability, risk, surrender, trust. Both require standing on the edge of the unknown and saying yes anyway.

To live with a brain that misfires is to live constantly between worlds—the real and the imagined, the lucid and the lost. Yet within that space, there’s beauty. There’s empathy. There’s art.

These are not stories about being cured. They’re stories about being human.

5. Why I Keep Writing

Sometimes readers ask why I return, again and again, to characters who struggle with their minds. My answer is simple: because I know what it means to stay.

Because the world still whispers that mental illness is weakness.
Because the stories that saved me were the ones that refused to flinch.
Because the young readers who see themselves in Adria, Ivy, and Stevie deserve to know they are not broken—they are becoming.

Writing these books has taught me that resilience isn’t the absence of relapse; it’s the decision to keep loving life anyway. It’s the courage to reach for connection even when your hands shake. It’s the soft defiance of building hope out of symptoms.

And maybe, at the center of it all, it’s first love—the thing that reminds us we’re still capable of wonder.

When I look back on Secret Whispers, Déjà Vu, and Of Laughter & Heartbreak, I see not a trilogy of illness, but a mosaic of endurance. Each girl walks through her own labyrinth and emerges carrying the same small flame: belief.

Belief that we are more than diagnosis.
Belief that love is still possible in the dark.
Belief that the quiet work of staying—of waking up again, and again—is itself a form of grace.

If these stories have a single message, it’s this:
Even when the mind fractures, the heart remembers how to reach for light.

Thresholds Between Worlds: Writing the Dreaming Mind

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There are nights when the mind becomes a borderland—not waking, not sleeping, but something tender and trembling between. That’s where my stories live. When I write, I’m less interested in plot than in passage—the subtle moment when reality begins to shimmer and something unseen breathes through. It’s the hum before a dream takes shape, the hush in a library where imagination crosses the threshold.

My novels Dreamcatcher, Ink & Ivy, and Whimsy and Bliss were each born from that in-between space: where dream logic and daylight ache overlap, where imagination is both refuge and revelation. I’ve come to think of them not as separate stories, but as three rooms in the same house—the House of the Dreaming Mind.

1. The Doorway in the Dark

The idea for Dreamcatcher began with an image: a girl climbing through a fire-escape window, brushing against her grandmother’s dreamcatcher, and falling into another world. For Dash, my protagonist, the dream realm of Baumwelt is not a fantasy world in the traditional sense—it’s a reflection of her inner life. Every creature she meets, every landscape she crosses, echoes her memories, fears, and ancestral lineage. The world outside her window dissolves, but what replaces it is not pure invention—it’s memory rearranged by sleep.

Dreams are the language of the unconscious, but they are also archives of ancestry. In Dakota tradition, dreams carry instruction; they are bridges to spirit, not mere illusion. Writing Dreamcatcher, I wanted to honor that worldview—to let dream be teacher, not escape.

The dreaming mind, after all, has its own geography. It’s where past and present fold into each other, where the living and the dead keep company. Dash’s journey through Baumwelt is really a journey into inheritance—into how memory, myth, and trauma shape the self. When she wakes, nothing around her has changed, but she has. That’s what every good story does—it sends you somewhere so that you can return with new eyes.

2. Ink as Spellwork

If Dreamcatcher is the dream entered through sleep, Ink & Ivy is the dream entered through creation. Marisol, the girl who runs a hidden bookshop, learns that the stories she writes can alter reality. What she pens becomes what she lives; language itself becomes a portal. But her gift carries risk: every act of creation has a cost. Words can heal, but they can also harm.

In that sense, Ink & Ivy is about authorship as alchemy—the idea that writing is both spell and surrender. As writers, we are always crossing thresholds between imagined and real. We live half in the world and half in language. The line between the two blurs until even we can’t tell which is which. When Marisol writes, she’s not escaping grief; she’s giving it shape. The ink becomes her ritual of remembrance.

Writing, too, is a dream you enter deliberately. When I’m deep in it, time dissolves, sound thickens, and the body becomes peripheral. That liminal state—the creative trance—is the same consciousness that dreams speak from. It’s what poets call flow and mystics call vision. I’ve come to believe that all art is a form of lucid dreaming: we are awake, but we allow the dream to guide our hand.

3. Between Wonder and Loss

Then there is Whimsy and Bliss—a story set not in another world, but in the precise moment before girlhood fades into adulthood. Abigail Whimsy is the dreamer; Lainey Bliss is the realist. Together, they chase “thin places,” secret corners of their lakeside town where the fabric between worlds wears thin. Their summer map becomes a pilgrimage of goodbye—to childhood, to friendship, to the certainty that magic is only for the young.

In Whimsy and Bliss, the dreaming mind is not only nocturnal—it’s emotional. The dream here is nostalgia: the ache for what can’t be returned to, the shimmering almost-memory of who we were. When Whimsy and Bliss explore abandoned libraries and climb water towers under moonlight, they’re searching for wonder before it vanishes. They are practicing a kind of everyday mysticism—the belief that the ordinary world is already enchanted, if only we pay attention.

This, to me, is the heart of the dreaming mind: it notices what others overlook. It lives in metaphor, in symbol, in atmosphere. It insists that even grief has its own radiance.

4. Dream as Bridge, Not Escape

People sometimes ask why I write “fantasy.” I never quite know how to answer, because my worlds are not so much invented as revealed. Fantasy, for me, is not an exit door—it’s an entrance. Dreaming and writing share a purpose: they make the invisible visible. They bridge what logic can’t. When I write about portals, I don’t mean only magical doors. I mean threshold moments: the second before grief hits, the silence after someone says I love you, the pause between inhale and exhale. These are the real portals, the moments where transformation begins.

The dreaming mind knows this. It’s always translating feeling into image: a locked door becomes fear; a rising tide becomes memory; a missing key becomes forgiveness waiting to happen.

In Dreamcatcher, Baumwelt is Dash’s subconscious given form. In Ink & Ivy, imagination becomes tangible, able to wound or heal. In Whimsy and Bliss, dream takes the shape of longing. Each story moves through a different register of the same truth: that what we imagine is not separate from who we are.

Fantasy still matters because it reminds us that the world is layered. Beneath the surface of the ordinary lies a pulse of mystery, waiting to be remembered.

5. The Craft of Crossing

Writing the dreaming mind requires a particular discipline of attention. It’s not about inventing strange worlds, but about listening for what already hums beneath language.

I’ve learned to approach each story like a lucid dreamer: half-awake, observant, unafraid. When a sentence feels too rational, I let it unravel. When logic tries to take over, I ask what image might speak instead.

A novel like Dreamcatcher grows through atmosphere before plot; it must be dreamed onto the page. Ink & Ivy demands reverence for language itself—every word carries spell-weight. Whimsy and Bliss thrives on emotional resonance—the threshold between childhood and adulthood is its own kind of magic realism.

To write the dreaming mind, one must accept unknowing. The story reveals itself only as you move through it, like a dream that solidifies upon waking. You can’t outline it entirely; you can only walk with it.

6. Waking Gently

What I love most about dream-based writing is how it teaches you to wake differently. When you step out of a story like Dreamcatcher or Ink & Ivy, you don’t just return to life—you return to it changed. Readers often tell me they see their own dreams differently after finishing these books. That is the greatest compliment I could receive. It means the stories have done their work: not to distract, but to awaken.

The dreaming mind is not a place we visit only at night. It’s a consciousness we carry—a sensitivity to meaning, pattern, and possibility. It’s the part of us that still believes rivers can whisper, that trees remember, that words are alive.

Writing through that lens keeps me tethered to awe. And awe, I think, is a form of prayer.

7. The Threshold Itself

I return often to that fire-escape window from Dreamcatcher. The girl climbing through it. The touch of feathers, the shift of air. The dreamcatcher trembling like a heartbeat.

That moment—between step and fall, between real and imagined—is the space I write from. It’s the threshold itself that matters, not what lies on either side.

Because the dreaming mind isn’t about choosing one world over another. It’s about learning to live in both at once. To walk through daylight with a trace of starlight still on your skin. To carry the dream with you, awake.

Every story I’ve written is, in its own way, a map back to that place.

Dreamcatcher taught me to honor ancestral dream as truth.
Ink & Ivy taught me that language is alive.
Whimsy and Bliss taught me that growing up doesn’t mean losing wonder.

All three remind me that imagination is not an indulgence—it’s a responsibility.

The dreaming mind keeps us human. It holds the world together, one dream, one story, one word at a time.

“Whimsy and Bliss” by Angela Grey

Shady Oak Press (2025)
ISBN: 978-1961841468
Reviewed by Stephanie Elizabeth Long for Reader Views (09/2025)

Abigail Whimsy and Lainey Bliss have been best friends since the second grade. Like yin and yang, their opposites somehow fit together like errant puzzle pieces. Whimsy exists in a world of vibrant dreams and imagination, while Lainey is pragmatic and even-keeled, which anchors Abigail. Because nothing good can last forever, the girls have one final summer together before Lainey goes off to a fancy college, leaving Abigail behind.

Before Lainey leaves, Abigail has devised a plan. They will create a map (complete with a detailed legend) and explore all the mysteries of their town—dismantle the “thin” places, using her late grandmother’s journal (chaotic musings) as a guide.

As they delve deeper into the journey, Abigail’s reality becomes skewed, and Lainey’s attempts to keep her friend’s sanity in check become more difficult. The places they visit awaken a humming within Abigail, and the more they add to the map, the louder the hum becomes.

Whimsy and Bliss is a coming-of-age literary masterpiece. Angela Gray’s writing is known for its vivid imagery and deep metaphors, and this novel is no exception. Readers will quickly be immersed in Abigail’s world of wanderlust, where magic and realism become blurred. Beyond that, the character-driven story explores themes of friendship, self-discovery, and bridging the transition from childhood to young adulthood.

Sometimes it can be hard to decipher the difference between imagination and illness. The author has done an excellent job of illustrating Abigail’s unraveling—the whispering of nature, the ebb and flow of the hum, and the excitement turned obsession. With every place Abigail and Lainey traversed, I fell more in tune with Abigail’s frequency, at times questioning what was real and what was fictitious—this is the type of story that makes you see the world differently.

Whimsy and Bliss certainly highlights the plight of mental illness, particularly hypomania. Still, at its core, the novel’s overarching message is one of connection and trust—it’s the impenetrable sisterhood between two young women on the cusp of adulthood. In a world that is often stuck in the me-versus-you mentality, the solidarity between friends is refreshing, teaching us that we don’t have to suffer alone; we can lean on others for support.

For readers who love young adult books about friendship and adventure with a focus on mental health, this literary gem will appeal to you. Angela Gray’s exquisite prose is unmatched, and the multilayered characters are memorable. Abigail and Lainey’s map of thin places will forever hold a special place in my heart.

Depression vs. Expression

I attended a class at Pathways Mental Health Crisis Center in uptown Minneapolis about healing the body from trauma, judgment, guilt, pain, anger, or resentments. I learned many things like you need to liberate yourself from guilt and shame by embracing the pain because you battled it and won. For example, if you were abused, acknowledge the vulnerable remains within your body and move forward. According to one of the many texts we delved into was The Secret by Rhonda Byrne who says something to the effect of what you pay attention to grows stronger so acknowledge the guilt and shame but don’t drown yourself in pain. If its grief holding you back, acknowledge that life is for the living and the spirit of those that have passed stays with you. So, they are never far away; they bathe you in strength.

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

If there’s a project, illness, or relationship that makes you feel confined address it then return with the attitude of awareness and cooperation even if it isn’t the case. You can’t make “them” or “it” liberate you; you must do it yourself. That doesn’t mean quit, ignore your body, or leave the other person, just be aware and mentally cooperate with the tension. If it leaves you frustrated, imagine your utmost self thriving and evolving. Refuse to be stunted, welcome growth and new change.

Don’t live in distress because it causes the body to remain in a state of depression or regression and it can cause or agitate illness. If it’s stress, embrace the experience and grow from it. If it’s an irrational, obnoxious, or arrogant person, step back and think about what has their presence in your life sought to teach you. Refuse to judge negatively whether it be a person, thing, or experience. Confront any suffering and liberate yourself from the pain afterward.

Use resilience to avoid being stuck in denial and delusion because it’s temporary and you’re strong enough to see that truth. Think about how far you’ve come and refuse to be discouraged with what you accomplished. Greet the future you with hopeful curiosity. Imagine any anger as if it’s standing before you and battle it until it disappears then forgive it, whether it’s a person, an illness, or an experience. Just because you forgive doesn’t mean that you have to subject yourself to any further drama or pain by keeping them or the pain in your life. If you were abused or harmed in any way, forgive the abuser then forget the judgment. Don’t be a victim because what happened is in the past. Write it down succinctly then tear it up. It’s not you anymore. Let your resilience express gratitude for what the person, illness, or experience has taught you, built you up, made you the best self that you are despite their effect on your life.

Heal the bad feelings by meditating, doing yoga, or by doing a body scan which is where you lie down and focus on one part of the body and acknowledge how it feels. Start with your head and go to toes and really feel the tension, sadness, or anger and release it. Move onward and upward and refuse to neglect yourself anymore, instead express yourself. Sit with dignity!

Anti-anxiety Hobbies

Hobbies for People with Anxiety

1. Writing Expressively:

Expressive writing is a highly effective anxiety management technique and once you start to notice the benefits you are likely to get pleasure from engaging in this activity.

I found that regularly writing about what happened in my childhood and how that made me feel was incredibly healing.

2. Listening to Calming Music:

Regularly listening to calming music can be a highly effective way to calm down quickly and ease your anxiety symptoms.

One study in 2017 concluded that:

Music listening is associated with a decreased level of anxiety and distress.

This is one of my favorite hobbies for relieving anxiety, because I realized very early on that each time I would put on my headphones and listen to relaxing sounds my anxiety would start to ease instantly. I found this to be incredible and putting on calming music became one of my emergency anti-anxiety measures.

3. Reading Empowering Books:

A 2009 study at the University of Minnesota found that reading can reduce stress by up to 68%, so this is a highly effective hobby for people suffering from stress and anxiety.

Reading powerful books by beautiful authors helped me to get out a very dark anxiety hole.

If you don’t have the time to read, you can listen to all of these books instead by signing up to a platform such as Audible.

4. Going for Walks:

Being physically active is essential for managing anxiety because exercise stimulates the release of endorphins, hormones that makes us naturally feel good.

It also helps to release excess energy, which if not released would make you more anxious.

But the trouble is, anxiety as a condition can be very exhausting and overwhelming and so it is often hard to find the motivation to do any form of exercise.

That’s why I recommend gentle physical activities for people with anxiety, and in my experience, walking is the best form of exercise for anxiety relief.

5. Connecting with Animals :

Thor (Cocker Spaniel & Cavalier King Charles mix)

Spending time with animals—by playing with them and stroking them—can be a great hobby for managing anxiety.

Getting a pet would be of course an amazing solution for that, but it’s also not essential. You can always volunteer at rescue centers by offering to walk their dogs or play with their cats.

The reason animals have such a great effect on your mental health is because, according to research interacting with them can increase the levels of “the love hormone” oxytocin and decrease levels of “the stress hormone” cortisol, which has a calming effect on the body and mind.

For example, one study, showed that,

Interaction between owners and their dogs’ results in increasing levels of oxytocin in both owners and dogs, whereas cortisol levels decrease in the owners, but increase in the dogs

6. Dancing in Your Own Home

It might sound silly but dancing in your house or apartment when no one is watching is another great hobby for releasing tension and anxiety.

I like to put on my favorite songs and dance; you may even like dancing like crazy, doing lots of jumping, and freestyle movements.

7. Getting into Yoga:

Yoga is an ancient technique that is very beneficial for managing anxiety.

Anxiety makes us tense, irritable and inflexible, while yoga can work to reverse all of these, plus nourish us with a whole host of other health benefits.

A lot of people are hesitant about trying yoga because they think they won’t be able to get into certain positions, but I can assure you that anyone can practice yoga. Yoga is about connecting with your own body, mind and soul, and everyone else is irrelevant. It doesn’t matter what the other people are doing, all that matters is that you are listening to your body and doing what you can do. I have fallen in love with yoga, and it has become a big part of me. I just practice for myself, and I don’t care how I look to anyone else. Yoga has helped me to improve my breathing which is essential for managing anxiety.

8. Cooking Enjoyable Anti-Anxiety Meals

Healthy eating is necessary for reducing and managing anxiety. But when we start to eat healthily it can be hard to stick with it because we don’t know how to make tasty meals that are healthy and also, we often don’t know what to eat.

That’s why searching for healthy recipes and experimenting in the kitchen is a great hobby to adopt because it can help you eat healthily long-term, which can make enormous positive changes to your anxiety levels.

But that’s not all, cooking as an activity has shown to benefit mental health.

One study showed that adolescents with the most cooking skills reported a greater sense of mental well-being, as well as less symptoms of depression.

9. Watching Inspirational Movies:

Watching inspirational movies and documentaries, or movies based on a true story, can be very uplifting and motivational to encourage us to make positive changes in our lives.

I have found that watching such movies benefits me the most in the evening after a long day to help me calm down and unwind.

10. Create Beautiful Pictures or Paintings:

Whether it’s photography or painting, I find these activities extremely relaxing and fun, and it’s also a great way for me to be present in the moment (mindfulness) which is an anxiety alleviator, especially out in nature.

Enjoyed this post? Why not check out my YA novels or Native American mystery series on Amazon, or follow me on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, Goodreads, LinkedIn, Bookbub , or AllAuthor.

Are my worries five, ten years ago, still relevant concerns today?

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com woman in white button up shirt holding her hair

A whole range of mental health issues are acquired or maintained through the development of delusional beliefs about ourselves and our world. Even the most common mental health problems, such as anxiety and depression, are rooted by ingrained, strongly held delusional beliefs about ourselves or the world. Uncontrollable worrying is extremely common. Just think: Are my worries five, ten years ago, still relevant concerns today? And will they still be our worries in five, ten years from now? So, which delusional (not reflected by reality) beliefs do we chronic worriers hold now?

1. “I’m a born worrier.” or ” I’ve got to worry, so don’t even try to change me.”

2. “If I worry about something, it’s likely to happen.”

3. “Just because something I worried about in the past didn’t happen doesn’t mean it won’t happen in the future.”

4. “Worrying will prevent bad things happening.”

5. “If I’m anxious about something, it must mean it’s a threat or a problem, so I should worry about it.”

6. “I must think through all the possible things that might happen otherwise I won’t be prepared.”

7. “If I let other people know what they do makes me worry, they will change their behavior.”

8. “It is better to spend a lot of time thinking about a problem than making a snap decision.”

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

woman in white dress shirt sitting on brown wooden chair

I realize it’s not simple or easy but these delusional beliefs have to be analyzed in the safety of the therapist’s office. It may not be something we look forward to but it is our goal for better mental health and positive repercussions.

Making Good Habits Stick

habits

Have you ever wondered why some people seem to get so much done? When they say, ”I’m going to…” start exercising, eat healthy, get organized, read more, etc., you know that they’re going to make it happen. But when you try to go after similar goals, it’s a different story.

We might be able to stick to them for a while, but then, somewhere along the way, we always lose our motivation and quit. When that happens enough times, it’s easy to get frustrated and discouraged. But creating and sustaining good habits doesn’t have to be so difficult. It can be quite easy and even fun.

How we can develop good solid habits:

1. Start with Small Steps So It’s Almost Natural to Us

2. Get Hooked on Our Habit So We’re Invested in It

3. Have Clear Intentions as Opposed to Vague Goals

4. Celebrate Our Small Wins Not Just Our Big Accomplishments

5. Design Our Environment to Drive Our Behavior

6. Surround Ourselves with Realistic Supporters

7. Pre-Commit to Our Habit by Scheduling It into Our Agenda to Be Accountable

8. Change Our Mindset with Persistence and Focus

Examine doubts and ease them.

Photo by Polina Zimmerman on Pexels.com upset woman looking in mirror

Doubt is a natural response like fear and joy. We shouldn’t try to beat it as if it were our enemy. Like fear, doubt can sometimes save our life. Some self-doubt is reasonable: I doubt I can jump from this building to the next or I doubt my legs would handle jumping from this roof. These doubts have in common their scientific fact or what we’ve learned about the strength and durability of human leg bones.

Where we get into trouble with self-doubt is when it’s based on assumptions or on limiting beliefs that have no basis in fact. Those assumptions and beliefs have us to avoid new challenges that confront us with the possibility of failure. But they also prevent us from learning the truth of who we are and what we’re capable of. We can’t believe in ourselves and hold onto these assumptions that others have passed down about the world and our place in it.

So, we need to start facing those doubts with some pointed questions like is this really true, do I believe it only because someone else has said this, is there any fact-based reason to believe it, or what could I do to put this belief to the test?

Mental illness can play havoc with our doubts. Sometimes we can confront them on our own if we have the insight available. Other times it’s helpful to go over these questions to poke at assumptions or limiting beliefs.

Category: mind, thought and consciousness