I Promise.

I am in a place of promises right now. Reflecting on the sacredness of this level of intention.

On retreat in the spring I was guided through a deep meditation and while inside of the space that is neither here, nor there, I had a very clear vision. It was two little souls crowded around a daisy making a plan. This was my spiritual remembering of the soul contract my brother and I made before beginning this human experience. In this space of dark and light where our souls existed first we made promises to each other; mine was to do the job I came here to do – his was to keep me on my path, no matter the personal cost, by showing up in his darkness when needed.

I can tell you friends, this sweet soul who is my beloved brother kept his promises. And these promises came with great personal cost. It is why I try each day to peel another layer back, to go deeper, to stay on the path. I have a promise to keep.

Fast forward to now –

I was given the news that surgery is needed to remove my gallbladder. I have multiple conditions happening at once that cannot be fixed holistically or with medication. Surgery is the best path towards healing.

… I wanted to write “whole body healing”, but that doesn’t feel quite right knowing that a part of me literally has to be removed from the whole for me to heal.

I am going to have to sit with this outside of this post, there is something to explore deeper here.

So I am preparing for surgery. Preparing for surgery goes beyond cleaning my house and meal prepping so I can rest with ease as I recover. It is more than dietary changes and making plans for my mother to be with little bubby while his momma is away.

There are things I am doing for myself that go beyond the surface level details.

I am preparing an honoring ceremony to thank my gallbladder for the ways she held me when I struggled to hold myself. I am taking time to feel everything that I feel in the wake of this news; my shame, my grief, my fear, my gratitude, my love, my anxiety. I am balancing myself between the pause and the urgency given the severity of my condition. I am taking time to plan my path forward, making space for fluidity – this piece is especially important because in the face of the unknown I certainly have a part that shows up wanting to control anything she can. I am holding her and listening to her concerns, she is part of my processing but she is not in charge of this part of my self-care.

There is more happening inside this space of love and care but this enough for now.

A soul friend and fellow momma gave me a beautiful piece imagery to hold onto while my gallbladder and I complete this last chapter of our story together –

“I am picturing your gallbladder taking along with it anything that does not energetically belong with you anymore”.

Yes.

Yes and Amen.

My gallbladder held so much for me, it was so strong for so long. It shutting down and saying “Enough” is not some reflection on lack of strength – it is a very clear message to me that it is time.

It is time. You are ready. 

It was holding me until I was able to fully hold myself. Now that I am here my gallbladder finally gets to rest, her job is done.

So I count my gallbladder in my gratitude this evening, for all she has done for me, my gratitude is immeasurable.

This is my promise to you, sweet organ who held me so devotedly these last 36 years, I will Love. I will Love so deep and so True that every part of me will feel it and every part of me will know – I will Love so purely that the power of it will explode out of me like delicate particles of light and all those who encounter me will know.

I am a soul with promises to keep and I will spend my life doing just that.

 

Calm Christmas

Sending a little love and light to MIL as I start this post as she was the catalyst for an important decision my husband and I made about the holidays this year.

We have decided to have a family Christmas. Our family. Me, my husband, little bubby, and Lu.

We have decided we will not be traveling, we will not be making the rounds. We will be home, with each other, celebrating in our own way and hopefully creating new traditions together that will be part of our Christmases for years to come.

This decision came after a massive guilt trip laid on both of us from my MIL.

Before little bub was born we would often travel to see my husband’s family for Christmas. It had become an annual trip and we looked forward to it.

We both agreed, even before I became pregnant, that once we had a baby we would not be traveling for Christmas.

Apparently my MIL did not get that message and that turned into a very awkward conversation for me when my in-laws were here a few months ago for a visit.

I have a lot of compassion for my MIL when it comes to her role as grandma, I know she feels disconnection due to distance.

Still, this is a decision we are connected to.

After a few awkward conversations wherein she tried every mom tactic out there to change our minds, with no success, my husband and I had a very intentional conversation around what we want Christmas to feel like.

Some of the words that came up were; connection, Love, peaceful, joy, comfort.

From this we both agreed that we wanted to be home, with each other, enveloped in the day and taking it all in without distraction.

Since making the decision my usual underlying feeling of dread (there has been excitement and joy as well) has lifted.

Knowing that we don’t have to accommodate anyone else’s schedule, we don’t have to travel, we don’t have to haul gifts and little bubby supplies anywhere, we don’t have to DO anything. We can just BE.

That is our gift to ourselves. Connection, Love, Peace, Joy, Comfort. At home.

As this is little bubby’s first real Christmas we are thinking about what our family’s traditions might include. I am thinking about the meal and leaning towards vegan tamales, as tamales are a traditional holiday dish in Mexican culture and we like the idea of tying in our culture into our holiday traditions. I am thinking about how to make the day magical for little bubs without over planning, finding the balance between structured family activities and freedom to play and be. I am also thinking about sweet sacred alone time with my husband once little bubby has gone to bed. I have tossed out the idea of us getting a fire pit for the back yard this year (my husband loves to build a good fire), we are still mulling that idea over. I am playing with the idea of a hot spiced drink and maybe a quiet activity like a holiday puzzle.

This is what I am clear on, it will be wonderful whatever it ends up being. Because we are creating this experience with intention, knowing exactly how we want to feel and really leaning into those feelings as we plan.

Here is the other thing I am clear on, this is the exact right decision for our family. The thing that came up for us as we had that discussion a while back that led to this decision was this; we are a family. So spending Christmas with family does not have to extend beyond us if we don’t want it to. Love to both of our families of origin, they no longer define family for us though. Family can be us or more than us and at any given time we get to decide.

We will still make time for both of our families around the holiday. Little bubs will spend time with family in town before Christmas day and skype with family out of town. This decision was not made from a place of exclusion, it was made from a place of Love and connection.

So as we enter this season I wish you and yours warm tidings of comfort and joy. And Love. Always Love.

Alchemy in Body Work

I feel it is time to acknowledge some shame I have been carrying around because it is heavy on my heart and I am ready to set it down and heal with Love instead.

I have shared a little bit about how my husband and I are taking some time at the end of the year now to figure out what our relationship with food as a family will look like going forward. When little bubby started eating solids we realized real quick there would not be a point where we suddenly say, okay let’s feed him fat, sugar, and sodium. This means my husband and I, who are well meaning but not completely intentional, needed to make changes to meet little bubby where he is and join him in healthy eating.

In August I had a health scare. I had some kind of gastrointestinal episode that was very painful and found me in my doctor’s office the next day. Labs and testing done came back negative so I assumed it was something I ate and moved on. Two months later, almost to the day, I had another episode but this time it was much worse. I was debilitated by it. I will not get into the details but I was very sick. Again I found myself in my doctor’s office and more testing was ordered. Results have not come back yet, and based on these findings the spectrum of intervention could be from dietary change to surgery.

It is clear to my husband and I though that at the very least we will be applying the dietary change, in fact we already have. My body is literally telling me it is time.

I have gone full vegetarian with most of my meals being fully vegan. I have been off dairy for a while but I do still eat fish. My husband is practicing this with me for the meals he eats at home but for the time being still takes a sandwich for lunch that includes deli meat. Little bubby is eating this way with us because we are the ones preparing his meals obviously but we are not against him having lean meats such as poultry when we are with family.

So here is where my shame has been weighing on me; I caused this. I have been using food to hold my pain for most of my life. It started as the example set by my parents but as an adult I had the choice to parent myself better and that is not the option I have been choosing. I have been sitting in shame while I process the fact that now my body is struggling because of the damage I have caused with my choices. I am ashamed I did not Love myself better. This feels like self-harm. I knew better and continued to make these choices from a place of victim mentality, scarcity, and fear.

Love was always a choice here, and it still is, I just wish I had made this choice sooner.

Here is where I call in grace; I am here. The darkness that came before was then, this is now, and I am here, choosing Love. The pain that I experienced in that darkness still yearns to be felt which is why I think I was still having a hard time choosing Love. I recognize now though that I can go back and touch without actually being there. I am not there anymore, now can be different. It is my choice, I have the freedom of choice now and I am choosing Love. I am choosing connection. I am choosing me, and my family, and peace.

I choose gentleness and healing. I choose to be kind with myself as I pick all of myself up and walk my path home to Love.

I close this with gratitude. Gratitude for my body and the way she has always held me.

Thank you for all you have done to care for me, everyday, never stopping, never failing, no matter how bad it got, no matter how many times I abandoned you, no matter how unloved you must have felt. You have showed me the most unconditional Love just by doing exactly what you do, going on. I Love you. I Love you and going forward I am going to speak to you with Love, I am going to nourish you with Love, I am going to hold you Sacred with Love. It has always been you and me and it will always be you and me. I Love you and I am grateful without end for all the wonder that you are.

Three Horsemen at the Breakfast Table

Shadows that came visiting this morning: scarcity, manipulation, resentment.

The storm started like this;

This morning I made little bubby and I our oatmeal and little bubs was chomping happily on a banana when daddy walked into the kitchen and went into the cupboard to get the makings for his oatmeal. I sat in the window seat across from little bubby in my favorite spot, over looking our hanging garden and the bird feeder. Little bubs started pointing and grunting, letting us know he was ready for the oatmeal that had been cooling on the kitchen table next to him. I asked my husband to help little bubby with breakfast and I got a sharp you can do it back from him as he kept his back to me and continued his work by the microwave.

My reaction was instant.

Yes, I am aware I can. I am asking you to help so I can have a break. I do breakfast with him 6 days a week. 

Into the spiral we fell.

Him saying it is not fair that I use that against him, he works, it is not his fault he cannot be here during the week.

Me reminding him that I have two full-time jobs as well and I get no more break than he does.

Him trying to use me, me trying to manipulate him, both of us feeling resentment, neither of us getting our needs met, both of us dancing with scarcity all over the kitchen.

So we did what we do.

We started truth speaking, holding each other responsible for the muck we were both bringing to the situation, taking turns acknowledging and owning our muck, and making a plan to ensure we find ourselves back on the same page and out of this squall.

I had to own my manipulation and speak my truth about what my needs were. I also had to own the lies I was telling myself about the situation so scarcity could sit down and stop running the chaos.

He had to own his manipulation and speak his truth about his needs as well. And just like me he had to own the lies he was telling himself about the situation so scarcity could shut up and step back.

What we realized is; we were both exhausted (no shock here), we were both operating from scarcity and self-preservation, and like so many times before, we had fallen away from our gratitude practice. When we are not mindfully practicing gratitude it is usually only a matter of time before scarcity shows up spreading lies and starting fires.

We got to a point that we both felt comfortable proceeding with our day even without every lose end being tied up. The conversation cup is holding a few things to circle back to when we have the space and time to fully honor them later in the weekend. For now we have a clearer path forward and an even clearer path for individual and family self-care this weekend.

We are getting better at this all the time. The growth I saw inside of today’s interaction was this;

No anger. Neither of us fell into anger, we did not get hot. After the initial sharp comments we immediately started doing the work to repair and care for each other and the relationship.

This is huge guys. For me this means I did not become overwhelmed by my emotions and was able to speak from the heart while staying grounded and rational. For my husband, this means he was able to dip into his heart space and truth speak rather than going to his male shame place of “fixing” or staying in his brain space without allowing vulnerable to be present.

I have said it before and I will keep saying it; I love this man, I love what we are building together, I love this life of ours. It is good.

It is good.

Farewell Tour Part 1

Friends,

A few weeks ago my therapist and I were talking about the healing work I am doing around my relationship with food.

Since Little Bubby has started eating solid food my husband and I have been mindful about what we expose him to. In short, his menu includes fruits, veggies, lean protein, pasta, wheat bread, and healthy fats from nut butter and skim milk cheese etc. We are steering clear of processed foods.

My family keeps asking, when are you going to introduce bacon, or breakfast sausage, or cheddar cheese, or biscuits, or juice.. My sweet grandmother keeps trying to give him goldfish and those cheese crackers stuffed with peanut butter that we ate as kids.

Our answer to all of this is the same every time, nothing processed.

At first we didn’t think much about all of the questions and suggestions about his diet because he was just being introduced to solid foods so we were clear that it would be what we consider whole clean foods only. Now that he is in the swing of eating solids the questions come more often. It is like everyone is waiting to stuff him full of fat, sodium, and sugar.

We know we do not want to go down that road. We Love him, we plan to feed him like we Love him.

Here is the thing, we are not modeling this Love for him in the way we eat. The idea of healthy anything (eating, exercise, etc) exists on a spectrum, we fall a little left of the middle. That is to say, we eat our spinach, but we eat our M&Ms too.

We agree that like all things we want to be balanced in the way we approach our family’s relationship with food. We are not going to deprive him from experiencing ice cream, AND we are not going to be an ice cream every week family.

What my husband and I understand is that it is not going to be Little Bubby who meets us where we are with food, it will be my husband and I who meet him over where he is. We will show ourselves Love through our relationship with food.

We are giving ourselves the rest of the year to transition into our new diet. This is a major shift for us and we want to be successful so we are allowing ourselves time to adjust.

So far that looks like swapping cereal for plain oatmeal decorated with nuts, seeds, and a bit of fruit; and swapping out jarred pasta sauce for homemade using fresh veggies only.

We will find our place between pizza and kale where our family feels balance and connection with food and the way we Love ourselves inside of that relationship.

There is more to this story than how Little Bubby inspired this change. More on that next week.

With my hand on my heart,

Jillian
Adding to Nine

Self-Care 2.0

The energy of scarcity and exhaustion have lifted considerably over here. A big part of that was me making changes to how I was practicing self-care, it was time to step up my game.

I did this by reconnecting to practices from before little bubby arrived that served me well as well as finding new avenues to practice loving and caring for myself well.

Here is what self-care looked like before my adjustments were made;

  • Getting outside at least twice a week at sunset to be in the quiet of it and bear witness.
  • Spending at least a few hours a week in nature.
  • Chocolate.
  • Hot shower.
  • TV/Movies I enjoy.
  • One sleep in day per week (up by 9).
  • Swapping roles with my husband on the weekend.
  • Clean sheets once a week that have been washed in lavender.
  • Reading
  • Writing
  • Art

There is more but these are areas where I was being mindful and it was a practice.

Here are some oldies but goodies that I have brought back;

  • Hot tea
  • Hot bath with bath bomb
  • Sleep in and take morning off. – We already had a sleep in day for both of us built into our weekly routine, we decided to go all in on sleep in day right now while little bubby is having a season of struggle that way we both get a day of true rest. Now sleep in day includes not having to be on overnight duty with little bubby the night before and sleeping in/resting in a quiet bedroom until 11 the next day. This means a full night of uninterrupted sleep and the next morning off. IT IS WONDERFUL. Sleep and rest in general make a huge difference in my personal ability to hold space for myself and those I love.
  • Swapping roles with hubs – this is another one we were already doing but since my husband has been playing table tennis twice a week as part of his self-care, the swap has not benefited both of us in the same way. Now we are both getting opportunity to take turns doing bath, storytime, cook dinner for one another. Some of these things we do together but there are a few dedicated nights where one person gets the night off of something etc.
  • Time in nature – another one that was already part of my routine that I have enhanced. Pre-little bubby I would take my meditation practice outside. Post little bubby I have not made room for my meditative practice and most of my time in nature includes little bubby. While I love him being with me and connecting with the Mother, getting back out there alone was a must. That evening sunset thing I do now includes being in nature alone and meditating – a half of that a few times a week goes a long way towards wholeness for me.

These are the new things I am trying;

  • Asking for help.  – Hello, my name is island. That was my old name tag that I have decided it is well past time to retire. I need help and I am asking for it. I am allowing myself to be supported and where as before that never felt safe, now I know I am safe because I AM SAFE. Shame and fear do not stand in the way of my Love and connection any longer.
  • Seeking out connection outside. – Getting out and being seen are new for me. Joining the crochet group I discussed in a previous post and being open in general to the idea of outside belonging as a way to feel connection and care are ways I am playing with experiencing self-Love.

That’s all I got for now, I have a husband in bed next to me that wants to cuddle. Updates on my progress coming soon.

We Don’t Have to Rush

This post is inspired by a memory that surfaced from elementary school;

Sometime during 4th grade, after the death of my Nana, Mom and I had a hard morning.

We were running late getting me to school. I do not know if my Mom was working at the time, so I am unsure if this feeling of rush and force was bigger than just me not getting to school on time, maybe there was more at stake than I knew.

Let me set the scene for you;

None of the clothes I want to wear are clean so Mom has forced me into a pair of jean shorts I am mortified to be seen in and some dumb shirt I do not like.

Here is the thing about these shorts;  first you should know when I was kid money was tight so Mom got resourceful at times. She had a talent for sewing, she made both mine and my cousin’s first communion dresses and you would never have known they were not some expensive store bought dresses like the other girls. What my Mom created for me did not always line up with what 9-year-old fashion was at the time.

These shorts had been jeans that I ripped the knees out of while playing outside the prior summer. We could not afford to throw away clothes that still fit so Mom attempted to transform them into shorts and the end product fell short. I gave it little thought because I had another pair of jeans and a pair of shorts I could wear and re-wear so no one at school ever had to see my Mom’s creation anyway.

This particular morning my Mom had decided I would not re-wear my jeans for what was probably the 11th time in a row, with no other clean bottoms to wear she told me to put on the hacked up shorts.

So I was already sitting in dread of what the day would hold for me, I would surely be a target in these awful shorts, while I frantically tore up my closet floor looking for my sneakers as my Mom yelled we have to leave now!

My sneakers were no where to be found! How was I going to go to school shoe-less? Guess I would just have to stay home.

My Mom was having none of it. She shoved my fancy white church shoes (which were covered in scuff marks from climbing on everything in sight) over my colorful tube socks and told me to head for the car.

I was stupefied. What was she doing?! My protests were fierce and immediate; Mom I can’t wear my church shoes, I have to wear sneakers for PE or they won’t let me participate and I will get in trouble!

She did not budge and with that I was off to school in my rag tag jean shorts, dumb shirt, colorful tube socks and fancy white scuffed up church shoes.

My Mom dropped me off and left. I was so ashamed my eyes were burning before I got out of the car. I did not know how I was going to face the fourth grade, I did not know how I was going to survive the day.

This was my first walk of shame. I was late, the car ramp was empty. Alone I walked through the vacant halls, the little heels on my fancy white scuffed up shoes clacking an echo all the way to the brown metal door of my classroom. I peeked in the slatted window on the door, everyone was in their seats, class had started. I knew the moment I opened that door all eyes would be on me.

It must have been bad because I lose my memory here.

I pick back up maybe 30 minutes later; I am at my teacher’s desk, I am crying, I am asking to go see the guidance counselor. I have become close with our guidance counselor this year, I have spent some time talking with her between Nana dying and my cousin and first best friend being removed from the family and living in a group home.

In the counselor’s office she listens as I cry. She knows my Mother and thinks fondly of her, she tries to balance my feelings for me. There is no balance to be struck, I am wounded and I have no room for whatever my Mother’s truth might be. In my mind she made me prey and then abandoned me  in the lion’s den that was the 4th grade.

The counselor has a pair of sneakers from the lost and found she offers me so I can participate in PE. They are only a small step up from my fancy white scuffed up church shoes. I see another pair, some black Keds with cool mesh sides, I ask for those ones instead – Maybe I can survive the day in those, maybe the kids won’t notice my Mom-sewn-shorts and instead they will just see my cool sneakers. The guidance counselor explains that those shoes are too small for me. I know she is right but I am desperate, I plead and she concedes. I wedge my tube socked foot into the too small shoe and blissfully ignore my cramped toes as I walk back to class.

I know that I do not know this story in full. I know what my scraps of memory tell me, I know what my feelings tell me, but I do not know what I am missing due to dissociation and I do not know what my Mother’s truth is. I can make conjectures and try to fill in blanks based on what I knew of my life at that time but to what end?

This was not one of my big traumas in childhood, it was a hard day. I think the reason this memory has stayed with me is to serve as a reminder now.

I am the adult, he is the child. What will moments like these look like for us?

There are so many times when I have a plan in my head for how the day will go, every minute for the next three hours planned out, then he wakes up from nap and takes an extra long time eating his yogurt because he really wants to work on holding the spoon today. Or we are going to the playground but a few feet outside the door he decides he would rather sit in the driveway and play with sticks.

Here are some things I know;

The first is that I have something now that my Mother did not have when I was 9, security.

Financial security that allows me to be home right now and not working on someone else’s schedule where our mornings would be rushed and potentially stressful.

Security in who I am as a Mother. I am so connected to my truth of infinite enoughness, his and my own, that no part of me can be shaken into believing we are less. Even when I get it wrong I know I am enough. When it is  hard, we are enough, this is enough, all of it is enough. This truth goes beyond my role as Mother, it is woven into every part of my being. This level of security within myself keeps me from falling into places of scarcity where I would value being on time over him or our connection in a moment. It keeps me from valuing “doing” over “being”. It keeps me right here where I am meant to be, in the moment with him.

Of course there are times where we make plans and try to keep a schedule and of course I balance what is going on with him with that schedule. I would not dishonor someone else’s time because he wants to continue playing blocks. What I am very clear on is this; if one day my nine year old child is having a hard morning because we are running late and the clothes he wants to wear are not clean, and he cannot find his sneakers, and maybe I am even running late for work or another important adult commitment… I will pause.

I will be with him, as long as it takes for us to find our way through and out the other side. We will take the time to find the shoes and we will talk about his feelings of anxiety or disappointment, if any, around not being able to wear what he wanted to wear to school. I will put everything else down if that is what it takes to hold space for him.

The way I, together with my husband, love him is the way he will learn to love himself. And if I am willing to do this for him, I have to be willing to do it for me too. That is the other thing I know, my Mother has never fully known how to hold space for me because she does not hold herself sacred.

We, all of us, you, me, our babies, our parents – we are ALL worthy of time. The world will continue to tick away while we exist inside of our pause taking care of ourselves and each other.

I am grateful that my inner nine-year-old has been sitting here next to me riding shot gun and guiding my heart as I parent this sweet soul who chose me.

I am grateful for all the ways my Mother failed me, therein giving me so much opportunity to build the resilience needed to become the human I am meant to be.

I am grateful for my ability to hold space for myself, it creates capacity for me to hold sacred space for those I love most, which is sometimes the stranger walking next to me and sometimes my sweet little boy.

Holding space for myself tonight meant writing this story down because this is the moment it was ready to be shared. Holding space for myself tonight meant asking my husband if he would be willing to hold a little space for me tomorrow by getting up with little bubby so I could catch up on the sleep I will miss to be here with myself and share this story.

As I close I am holding the energy of deep gratitude is for my husband, who holds space for me with so much love, and for every other person in my life who holds space for me and allows me to feel what it is like to be held sacred.

The Last Touch

Following my throat’s collision with little bubby’s foot, my therapist helped me see that while I have done some work around the emotional wounds caused by my brother’s abuse, it is time now to focus on healing my body.

We start with ground zero, my throat.

I understand now that if I walk around for the rest of my life saying to myself, my throat is off limits, then it will be as if his hands are around my throat forever – it will be the last experience my throat ever has.

OR

I can lean into the truth of this pain, as I have started to do, heal my hurts, and allow LOVE in.

Here is what I am clear about;

  1. I have spent enough of my life running from Love, now I only want to run towards it.
  2. No part of my body is off limits to me.

 

A few weeks after my PTSD episode I was laying in bed with my husband at bedtime. I talked to him about the need to allow myself to be Loved in this place of hurt and we discussed what that might look like. Then I asked him if I could practice this Love with him.

First we set boundaries. Safe Love for me always has boundaries.

  1. This is serious, no sillies. Our inner children are best friends, I did not want his inner child popping up and getting goofy while we practice something sacred.
  2. We discuss how you will touch me and that is the only touch that will take place.

 

I asked him what him Loving my throat would look like; he said, a kiss.

He asked me to lay on my back and then he leaned over me and gently kissed the middle of my throat.

Even a light embrace such as this felt like consider pressure to this part of my body, AND, it was beautiful.

He rolled over to his side of the bed and laid on his back, I rolled into him and buried myself in his neck.

From my hiding place in his neck I felt safe, enveloped, no light peeking in.

I thought – here I am again, crying in the dark.

This time was different though, this time I was not alone.

A Kick to the Throat and an Onslaught of Memories

A few weeks ago little bubby and I were tumbling around together tickling and giggling and having the best time. While playing, he zigged when I zagged and he accidentally kicked me in the throat. My PTSD reaction was immediate. My eyes welled with tears as pain across my entire body came crashing over me like a wave.

My throat is my number trigger one area in terms of the physical trauma I have experienced. I have others as well but my throat is absolutely my place of vulnerability above all else. I paused and tried desperately to stay inside myself and the moment long enough to allow my husband, who was standing near us, to take over while I cared for and comforted myself.

Once little bubby was with daddy I scooped up all the parts of myself that had risen up with stories to tell and I listened. I listened to each part as they shared their truth with me, and with each truth shared I repeated to myself over and over – I believe you.

These three words have been so powerful when it comes to my healing. They have been an emotional salve, mending all my wounds. They are exactly what I needed to hear in the moments when my wounds were created, I say them now each time I am repairing a hurt with myself.

My body tells me – this happened, and I say – I believe you.
My inner 5 year old tells me – this happened, and I say – I believe you.
My inner mother tells me – this happened, and I say – I believe you.

The healing starts here.

After I listened and validated all parts of myself in these resurrected stories of hurt, I took a shower. It was time to care for myself and honor my body for what she has been holding for me. It was also time for release, which I did in the form of a heavy cry under the warm water. I allowed the water to hold me while I held all the pain of my truths.

I was strangled, his hands on my throat, until I blacked out.
I woke up to see him walking away from me, leaving me alone, still choking, on the floor.
My father found me.
I was not comforted.
I was alone.

After my shower and my cry I found little bubby and my husband in the kitchen having dinner. I kissed little bubby on the head and checked in with him. I told him I was sorry that our playing ended the way it did and that I bet that was confusing for him and maybe even made him feel sad. I told him I loved him and he did nothing wrong. I told him mommy accidentally got hurt and had to take care of herself. I told him accidents happen and mommy is okay now and is ready to play when he finishes dinner. I thanked him for the way he shows up as a teacher in my life.

After little bubby went to bed I made myself some lavender chamomile tea and painted to finish releasing anything related to this incident as well as the original trauma, my body re-experienced what it was like to suffer a throat injury and it brought up a lot of other physical pain from the original trauma – my back hurt, my shoulders, my pelvis.. My body was telling me that when this happened it was not just my throat that experienced it – I was held down, there was intense pressure on all these areas. Now that all of this had risen back up to the surface, I wanted to make sure to acknowledge it all and release it from my body. I do not want this pain trapped in my body any longer.

At bedtime I processed with my husband. While it was a difficult night, I was immensely grateful for the clarity and information I gained from the experience. When this trauma originally took place I dissociated to survive, I not only literally blacked out from lack of oxygen, I blacked out many of the memories as well. This is how I have survived all of my traumas, through disconnection. Reconnecting my dots as I heal has been challenging; the more Love and acceptance I show myself the more I get back, I don’t know if I will ever know my full story though.

What I am the most proud of is how I mothered myself through this PTSD episode. I did not disconnect, I did not shutdown, I did not numb. My pain came on swift and fierce and I held all of it. I held all of myself and loved myself and I stayed present with everything that was happening inside, even when the truth was awful. I did not abandon any part of myself.

I am also proud of how I handled my repair with little bubby. My commitment to owning my imperfections and staying in my connection with myself while in my relationships with those I love makes me a better everything – a better partner, a better mother, a better friend..

In moments like these I know this truth for certain – this little soul and I, we chose each other. I am so grateful for that. So so grateful.

 

Home is Where the LOVE is.

Little bubby turned one at the end of August. I spent most of the month reflecting on the last year of our life together and all the milestones my family has experienced during that time.

When I say milestones I am not talking about little bubby learning to crawl or say Momma, although that last one was earth shaking for me to be sure. I am talking about all the ways in which we ALL grew; as a family, as individuals, in our separate relationships.

It is incredible to me how much growth and Love and joy and abundance we have experienced in this last year.

I would like to share just a few of those moments with you before I move into why I really sat down to write this morning;

Witnessing my sweet husband become a father. Going from frazzled and at times scared while he navigated choppy waters with a newborn into the confident Daddy who played the role of both parents for four days when little bubby was 9 months old while Momma was on a healing retreat.

The way my husband and I found our way home together to our truth about gratitude and fulfillment. Being in it with him as we started calling scarcity out on the lies it was breathing into our life and staying connected to each other and our truth as we moved into a space of joyful intentional living. There is no part of our life together that has not been touched by this sacred work.

And of course little bubby. Oh my heart. I could fill pages and pages with the joy and Love I have been swimming in while I bear witness to the growth of this sweet little soul who chose us. I have in fact. I have been writing this sweet soul letters, 2 or 3 a month, since we conceived. This is how I started my connection with this little soul who chose me as his Momma and I know one day it will all mean something to him.

 

Okay, now that I have had a few minutes to soak in a Love bath let me tell you why I am here today.

As the days drew nearer to little bubby’s birthday something that kept coming up for me were images of my husband while I was in labor. It is hard not to think back to the day little bubby entered the world and the truth is, it was not all joy. There was joy and LOve but there was also fear and pain.

I have not been dwelling on the fear and pain when the memories rise though, what I keep coming back to is my husband and the feeling of warmth and comfort; the feeling of emotionally and energetically being held.

I see him sitting next to me in the labor room reading To Kill a Mockingbird to me. I see him spoon feeding me jello and encouraging me to drink water. I see him holding me as I attempt to move around the room. I see him petting my forehead between pushes. I see him running to the bathroom for a cold wash cloth and then holding it on my face and neck. I see his beautiful face and the tears and relief he is feeling when it finally over and little bubby is laying on my stomach. I see him standing across the room next to little bubby who is being cleaned by nurses while the doctor stitches me. I see him helping me practice taking deep breaths when little bubby will not latch. I see him sacrificing his body to take care of mine. I see him trying over and over and over again. He never stops trying.

I fell in love with this man because when I said I wanted to take it slow, he said okay. He never once tried to take anything without asking, he waited for me. I fell in love with this man because when I told him my whole story, without editing the pain, he said I love you, none of this changes that. I fell in love with this man because falling in love with him was the easiest thing I have ever done in my entire life, there was nothing to do but love him.

I did not know, I slipped so easily into this Love with him, just what it would all mean. I did not know then that he was the soul, who chose me and whom I chose, to walk home together. This man has always been walking me home, and I am walking with him too. Sometimes he leads, sometimes I am the one in front, but we are always together, always in our connection. His light shines clarity onto our path and so does mine.

So on this anniversary of the day our sweet little soul joined us here in the outside world, I send my kisses and gratitude to the stars for the man who helped me make the vessel that will always be little bubby’s home. We made this Love, we made his little human form, we made this family, we made a home together.