What I used to wonder about my mom. Until I became one myself.Jun 16, 2022
I remember as a kid looking at my mom and thinking “Why is she hurting so much?” Then I grew up and found out. Grown-up life could be genuinely hard. I could love my kids massively and still sometimes hate parenting them.
But now that it was my turn, I found I simply could not bear repeating that story. But how could I write a NEW story? One that would be mine? And I had so many things against me: few lived memories of what I wanted it to look like, kids with some major medical issues, who were also gifted and challengingly quirky.
But as much as I had working against me, I had more working FOR me. I was a mother now, and every single day it became clearer and clearer to me that I was not just writing their todays. I was also writing their tomorrows. So for them and for me, I learned how to rise up. I learned I didn't need to have come from it; I could BUILD it. I had a vision of what I KNEW was possible, and I meticulously constructed a reliable path to get myself there.
Holy Transformation, Batwoman. It worked. My kids, now teenagers, are thriving. And so am I. Fulfilled beyond what I even hoped. Because I didn't stop at just winning for myself. I kept going and helped others win too.
And that has unleashed a powerful force in me, in my community, and in everyone who joins it. There is a collective energy of YES, we can do this. And guess what?
WE DO. ON THE DAILY.
We rewrite intergenerational trauma.
We learn how to be in joy.
We learn that problems are truly invitations to be a bigger, better, more badass version of our current selves.
We raise each of our unique kids to be their fully optimized selves, in their zones of genius, and with their challenges shored up enough not to hold them back.
We are no longer afraid.
We don’t walk on eggshells.
We don't hide.
We don't cry in the bathroom (not for long anyway).
We write our stories.
We own our stories.
We love our stories.
Want to join us?
You’re invited. Make a time to meet with me right here.
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Far beyond the dirty diapers.
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