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.

Creating the Path

Now that I have performed all my rescue missions and I am on the other side of the hurt, it is time for the RISE.

This bird has created a nest of safety and now she is ready to LIFT and see just how far these wings can carry her.

Through my visions I have seen some of the road ahead. The places where the path are clear make goal setting easy, this is good AND I am not looking for easy. My focus now is on the challenge.

I have been writing my story since I was 9. I have been sharing my story since I was 28. The time is coming for how I will fully OWN myself, and my story, and all of my sacred truths OUT LOUD. It is time for me to pick up my brick and carry it down the path. It is time to lay it down and take my place in the collective stories of women who have risen when their souls called out for it. I have to take my place where it has been saved for me. My brick will call the next woman to carry hers. We cannot get to where we are going, we cannot return to love without these bricks, without this path.

The time is coming and I am making myself ready.

On the other rise of trauma therapy is about the rising. It is about clearing the way to follow my truth home.

With my hand at my heart I thank you for being here, if these stories have touched you I am grateful – now go pick up your brick.

Speaking from the Same Mouth

I have visions. They come in the form of dreams, pictures in my mind, feelings in my body. Sometimes these visions are for me, sometimes I am receiving them for someone else and I am meant to share the message. I do not call myself psychic, that does not feel like my truth. I feel I am deeply connected to my inner knowing and I listen to her well, I also think that my connection to the place I am from, the place of souls, was never severed.

This year the visions have been coming and I believe what I am seeing, hearing, and feeling.

Yesterday my Yoda and I were discussing the place of souls and suddenly it was as if we shared one mind, one consciousness for a moment; in that moment we were speaking with the same mouth. We were discussing a place unhuman, a place both of our souls remember, and we were sharing the same stream of consciousness. Our words were the same words, our sentences overlapped. Human words fail me in describing what happened.

This is what I know: Yoda is my Yoda for a reason. We found each other again after this all time. Most of all: I have to listen to this voice, these visions; I have to follow this pull.

I am not used to being this spiritually naked. This is part of my truth took a long time for me to come home to. I could not tell this truth until I was ALL IN on my faith in myself and what I know to be my Sacred Truth. I am ALL IN.

Sending Out My Whisper

I am understanding as I do my work towards growth and healing that there is purpose in all of it. Purpose in the pain, purpose in the healing – it is mine, my purpose.

None of this is accidental. None of it is arbitrary. All of it is connected, all of it is mine, and from it I step into in my most sacred truth and work; my purpose. The whole reason I am here, what all of this has been preparing me for.

I am know who and what I am now. I know the purpose of all of it. I know my purpose.

I am still working with my small parts, they are afraid of the BIGNESS I know I am.

I am BIG and my purpose is too.

So for now, I will let this post be my first whisper out into the Universe.

I know what this life holds for me now and please hear me loud and clear when I say: I am ready and I want it.

I know who and what I am, I know where I am going, I am open to receiving everything I am meant to receive in order to get me there. I understand this is not a place I am going as much as a life I am creating; I am ready for this life, I want this life.

I promise to honor all of my sacred gifts. I promise to honor who and what I am and share it as I am meant to. I promise to honor my purpose. I will not waste this one wonderful existence where I was called here to do and be this.

I am calling it all in. I am ready to be BIG.

My Channel is Opening

One aspect of my vision board this year has to do with my intuition and how I commune with the Universe.

My spirituality is grounded in love and is practiced through my relationship with nature and my connection to the Divine/Universe which I understand is both inside me and around me at all times. There is no name for my beliefs, I simply call it all my Sacred Truth.

I see symbolism and signs all around me. Since making the declaration that I want to be big, feel my pain, and heal in love, the Universe has been showing up for me in major ways letting me know I am supported and on my path.

Last night this came in the form of lightning bugs.

When I was a child I always dreamed of seeing and playing among these magical insects because to me that is just what they were, magic. I never did see one growing up though. It wasn’t until I was in my thirties and visiting my husband’s home town over the summer that I finally saw my first lightning bug.

We were sitting on the back porch of his parents home at sunset. I was watching the sun go down over the corn field next to the house when suddenly – blink. Then again – Blink. Blink. Blink.

Bubby look at that!!

My inner child came flying out, overcome with joy and wonder. They were as magical as I always imagined they would be. We sat for sometime watching the blinks of light in the darkness.

Last night I let Lu our dog out before bed. As I waited for her at the backdoor I stepped out into the cool night air, looking for the moon. I found her in the western sky, half full, sending me the message; you are halfway there, but there is more work to do. As I communed with the moon I caught a small blink out of the corner of my eye. I looked in the direction of the blink, and a moment later there it was again.

I was stunned – it can’t be.

Blink.. Blink. Blink.

It is!

Two little lightning bugs shining their light in the darkness and still of the night.

I have lived in Florida my entire life and this is the very first time I have ever seen lightning bugs here. This was certainly a sign; Keep shining, you are in the dark now, just keep shining and your light will grow.

I have been so supported. The Universe is sending me all kinds of sacred signs and symbols to let me know I am not alone in this. I do belong somewhere and my place in the order of things is sacred.

I am grateful for the support. I feel my channel to the Universe opening. I feel my truth of who I am and my purpose rising. In the darkness of disconnection I have been experiencing, I also feel the light of connection to bigger things – that is where I belong, among those big things because I AM BIG.

communing with the universe

 

 

Intuitive Empath

My therapist referred to me as clairvoyant this week. Let that sink in. That right there is why I haven’t really been writing this week. I have been sitting with that label and trying it on for size.

I identify as an INFP which are traditionally intuitive empaths, two more labels that I also identify with. I am an introvert, highly sensitive, artistic, introspective. There are a lot of labels that I do identify with that dance around this area that feels a bit other worldly in my opinion. Clairvoyant though?

Here is the truth: I knew she was right when she said it. That does not mean I am ready to step into this truth and own it. I feel isolated enough at times because the way I experience the world and people and relationships is a bit outside of the norm thanks to all those labels I listed above that apply to me. If I start calling myself clairvoyant that just increases the gap between me and the rest of the world, at least that is how it feels.

Here is another truth: I love to hermit. So this isolation that I am complaining about is not actually something that bothers me that much.. AND there are pieces of me that still need outside connection on a level that prevents me from fully stepping into my power, whatever that power is.

Here is what I am doing with all of this right now: I am practicing truth speaking in front of others more regularly. Real truth speaking not just speaking assertively about my preferences and boundaries, this truth speaking is coming from my highly intuitive space which means it might be a language that some do not even fully understand AND that is okay. My therapist is encouraging me to stand in this truth more often and take up space and work on getting comfortable with the fact that not everyone will get it AND that is okay, I do not have to edit myself for the comfort of others.

I am starting here, in my writing space, my safe space, because I am scared and I feel the need to start small.

Here is another reason I am not ready to fully step into this truth quite yet: not all of my visions/premonitions/intuitive knowings are positive. In fact many times I do not know if what I am seeing/knowing is positive or negative, I don’t know until events play out. Sometimes though it is very clear and it is clearly negative. If I stand in this truth that means I have to be willing to accept and acknowledge that I know/see things that will negatively impact myself and others without have control to change the outcome. That is more than I am ready for.

So between not being ready to truly stand in my power out of fear for what it is and fear for the outside disconnection it may cause; I am here. Here in an in-between. An in-between like none I have ever experienced previously. Like all my in-betweens though I am thankful for this time, the time of infinite possibilities where the outcome is not yet know so all possible outcomes can exist together.

 

 

Alpha

A while back when talking with a friend she said something to me that really caught me off guard and that I did not exactly know how to take at first. She called me an alpha-female.

My initial reaction was like Whoa whoa whoa, I don’t know about that.

She went on to explain that she did not mean it in a bad way. She said that I was confident, assertive, and someone who people look to, someone who people want to be around and listen to.

I know that part is complimentary. The alpha part did not sit well with me though. She said alpha and I started thinking first about what little I know about pack mentality. I do not experience myself as an alpha, more like a beta.

I am a very reluctant leader. I had one bad experience trying to lead a team of women while working under a toxic male boss and that put a bad taste in my mouth about leading. I guess my confidence was shook. Being in college definitely restored my confidence in my ability to lead though. Every class had at least one big group project and more often than not my friend is right, my colleagues looked at me to set the pace and direction. Still, when I think of leading it is almost always in the context of a professional environment and the truth is I have always preferred a balance of cheerleader and lone wolf at work. I like to empower colleagues and offer support AND when it comes to getting things done I like to be solely responsible for my own work.

The next thing I think about when I hear the word alpha is the way Lucy tries to assert herself when playing with other dogs. She has play dates every once in a while with our friend’s dogs and sometimes we even dog sit for a few of these dogs. Lucy is super dog friendly AND she absolutely tries to assert herself as the alpha, sometimes with zero success. I watch her and the other dog jumping on each other, each trying to be the dog who can hold their head over the head of the other: I am in charge!

That is NOT me. The word alpha feels masculine and aggressive, and while yes I possess these parts, they are not dominant parts in any way. I just was not seeing what she was seeing.

I have been sitting with this for quite sometime and finally I reached a point where I was ready to write about it and process it further. I read a few different things that gave me perspective I did not have and I explored what my truth is about the word alpha and how I show up in this energy.

I see myself as an alpha in the following ways:

I am not a follower. I follow my own rules and question the status quo.
I am assertive and speak my truth freely.
I am confident. I know my worth because I define that, I do not allow the outside world to define my worth for me.
I have a strong energy field on my good days.
I am a big idea person. I may not always know how to execute it but I can supply the inspiration.
I know who I am and am grounded in that.

The thing is I thought that being called alpha meant something about power or control or trying to assert my dominance and putting others in the role of submissive.

In wolf packs maybe some of that is true. That is not how I experience any alpha personality characteristics I possess though. For me being alpha means not looking to others for what I already know. I know my truth. I know my worth. I know who I am.

The other part of this that I know to be my truth is that I am alpha AND I am beta AND I am omega AND I am a lone wolf. I possess all of the these qualities at different times. They are all mixed together in here.