Rereading your birth story, I weep onto my keyboard. These recent days and weeks have left me looking to the past to blaze a new way forward. Looking into old wounds, traumas, to heal them and move forward. As I sit here I begin to reconcile these two seeming polarities. I can be both wounded and powerful, both injured and strong, both weary and wise. It is true, I cannot be broken, I know this now. Maybe it is this deep knowing that allows me to turn towards the pain instead of running away from it. Turn towards the limiting beliefs and structures that have held me back all these years. These rules and guidelines that I’ve internalized and held deep to the core of my being. If I am not these things, then what am I? These structures are my cage, all of our cages, and to some degree we need them to hold up society and give us some foundation for normalcy and socialization. But on the other hand we need to realize that is all they are. They don’t need to define us to our core, always being “good girls” and “rule followers” doesn’t lead us to our greatest achievements, our desires, our beauty, it leads us to put on a mask and be like all the rest. Well guess what, I am not like the rest and neither are you!
Here’s something I’ve been recently admitting to myself, I need therapy! I want to get to a place where I can say that loud and proud, because we all do. We all have inner work to do, layers of miniscule traumas and life experiences that have molded and shaped us like clay, us blindly along for the ride. Now is the time to wake up, to see the cage, see the bars for what they are and quite literally break free. We have to look inwards, to our roots, our history, our patterns to truly evolve. This has never been more important to me than since I’ve become a mother. Nothing brings me more joy than imagining my children growing up in a household where they feel safe, heard, and loved, always and unconditionally. But the road there starts with myself. We as parents need to heal ourselves before we can hope to give a better life for our children. And how beautiful is that? We don’t have to be the sacrificed generation, destined to live with the wounds of our childhood and bear generational patterns and trauma that are not ours to begin with. In fact, becoming a better parent requires this of us. I’ve learned firsthand that our children do what we do, quite literally at a young age and perhaps more subtly or unconsciously as they grow older. We are their first teachers, their models, and for a time their heroes. This is not a job I take lightly, and while parenthood is by no means easy or straightforward, perhaps we can operate under a singular guiding principle. Children do what we do.
If I want my child to grow up with an unwavering confidence in her own intuition and inner voice, then I need to embody the same, trusting my gut. If I want my children to feel safe to explore their feminine side, and have full access to their fiery, creative little spirits, then I must stoke my own fire and let it flow freely. If I want my children to embrace and be present with the sensual pleasures of this life, then I must slow down and feel the warmth of the sun, if I want my children to speak their truth and know their voice amongst the noise, then I must know my own and be quiet long enough to hear theirs. If I want my child to have the surefootedness to stand tall in their own power, then I must ground my feet to the earth and rise up. If I want my child to know her energy as a fully radiant being of love, then I must know my peace and allow my heart to remain open despite its wounds. If I want my child to recognize his divine loving nature, then I must recognize my own. It starts here, it starts now, and isn’t it just so beautiful…
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