the uneven line

I wrote the following words a few years ago as a guest post on a blog called Roots of She (it's no longer out there). I came across it again recently and the words rang so true inside me as I read them that I knew I wanted to share them here. Writing the true stories, using a prompt like "I ignored you," is how I water my mama soul.

I hope it inspires you to write your own true stories. To get them out of you and onto paper, even if you don't share them with anyone. We simply let in more light, create space for more joy inside us, when we tell the true stories, even when (perhaps most importantly when) we're telling them to ourselves.

And I'm pairing these words with two self-portraits I took back in 2010...when the uneven line was fresh on my body. When I was almost disappearing into the role of motherhood and caretaker. When I was diving deep into my self-care and self-love toolbox to feel seen. Self-portraits are another powerful way I unearth the stories inside me.

Note that this post is about my cesarean scar, which feels important to share in case it is a sensitive subject for you.

*****

For months, I ignored you. I tried to pretend you did not exist. 

But then there would be a pull or a twinge or a pain that seemed to come from the center of me and I would remember you. You, the scar across my abdomen that birthed my daughter. (That birthed me.) The scar across the abdomen, the core, the womb inside me that had housed her, connected me to her, protected her for almost 10 months. 

I ignored you.

I ignored the core of me that you decorate with your uneven purple fading to creamy pink line.

I ignored you. And with that decision I ignored part of me. I pretended you (we) weren’t even there. 

And I did this for self-preservation really. I had a job to do. One that involved taking care of a baby girl who would have open-heart surgery at four months old. And I had a business to run. And I needed to ignore you. I was focused on her heart (holding my heart together), and I couldn’t think about you.

Every now and then, I would talk about you, telling pieces of the story to a few trusted souls. Just here and there. Sometimes through tears. Sometimes through sobs, I shared pieces of the story. 

Then the day came where I told the whole story. Looking up at the ceiling with my foot tapping and my breath almost stopped, the words it really was trauma and why did this happen and they just keep telling me to be thankful we are okay but she wasn’t okay really and I fear getting pregnant again so much I can’t breathe poured out of me as my foot tapped on the beige carpet and I almost held my breath because if I didn’t the words wouldn’t all come out.

I told the story. Your story. My story. I told it as the space was held. 

Please don’t ignore me.

Those were the words you, my body, my core, my center, said to me as I sat in guided meditation listening after the truth poured out of me.

From this moment of listening, a practice was born: Breathing all the way down into my belly until you were forced to expand and move and we could both begin to let go. Five deep breaths in between nap times and reading Goodnight Moon for the twenty-second time in an afternoon and projects and quick meals and walking in the park as the dahlias stretched toward the sun. Five deep breaths all the way into my belly. 

I see you.

This practice was slow and often beautiful and gave me the gift of noticing all of me, noticing you, in the moments between all that a day holds. The layers between us began to shift and shed. But still there would be a twinge, a pull, a reminder that I might never feel whole again.

A few weeks ago, I thought about you as I spent a few days in the Pacific Northwest woods at a retreat with eleven other women. We were exploring poetry, photography, painting, and slowing down to be present in our lives. There were stories shared and moments of being deeply seen. And then there was the laughter. (There was so much laughter!) 

I laughed all the way down into my belly until my whole body was shaking with the silliness and the beauty, until tears of actual joy pooled in my eyes. Laughter full of so much realness and truth and sound that it shook something loose inside my core, inside my center. It shook something big loose as it tucked joy right inside my heart. And I thought about you as I stood in the kitchen of that cabin in the woods and listened to their laughter. I thought about how something I thought you had locked away had been awakened by the sound of joy.

In this moment, today, I stand naked in front of the mirror in my bathroom. I close my eyes and I hear the memory of their laughter, my laughter, and it echoes as it rattles around inside me.

And then I hear Maya Angelou when she stood on the stage in March and sang, “I shall not; I shall not be moved. Like a tree planted by the water, I shall not be moved.” I hear her just as I did as I sat in the audience and felt those words cloak me with a shawl of hope.

I hear her, I hear their laughter, I hear my own truth singing within me, and I open my eyes as I clasp my belly. 

There you are. You, the scar across my abdomen that birthed my daughter. (That birthed me.) The scar across the abdomen, the core, the womb inside me that had housed her, connected me to her, protected her for almost 10 months. The scar that houses trauma, sadness, and more love and joy than I thought possible (for me, for her, for us). The scar that runs across me like a river, as I stand tall planted in the earth, in my truth.

*****

If you're looking for a way to tell the true stories, my book Inner Excavation is one place to begin. It is full of prompts to help you explore your stories through self-portraits in photography, poetry, and mixed-media art. You can read more about it and order a signed copy from me right here.

you are not alone over there honey

I shared these words a few years ago, and I'm feeling deeply moved to share them again.

A prayer in the form of a quote from a wise man from my favorite show, The West Wing:

“This guy’s walking down the street when he falls in a hole. The walls are so steep he can’t get out. A doctor passes by and the guy shouts up, ‘Hey you. Can you help me out?’ The doctor writes a prescription, throws it down in the hole and moves on. Then a priest comes along and the guy shouts up, ‘Father, I’m down in this hole can you help me out?’ The priest writes out a prayer, throws it down in the hole and moves on. Then a friend walks by, ‘Hey, Joe, it’s me can you help me out?’ And the friend jumps in the hole. Our guy says, ‘Are you stupid? Now we’re both down here.’ The friend says, ‘Yeah, but I’ve been down here before and I know the way out.’”

- John Spencer as Leo McGarry on The West Wing (Season 2, Episode 10)

You are not alone over there honey.

you have all the tools you need {a meditation}

An invitation to remember that you hold all you need inside you. (You can hear me read this audio meditation right here.)

Give yourself permission
to let this moment,
this moment
right now,
be just for you.

Find your breath.

Notice your next inhale,
then the exhale that follows.

Let your mind rest
inside the movement
of your breath
in your body.

Find the rhythm of your breathing.

Inhale,
chest opens.
Exhale,
shoulders relax.
Inhale,
heart opens.
Exhale,
feel the space inside you.

When you are ready
to return
to whatever your day holds,
know this:

You have all the tools you need for this day
and the next
and the next.

(yes.)

PS For more little reminders and love notes like this one, sign up for my (almost) weekly newsletter (where I also share stories of my real, true adventures in self-care and living with my heart open).

20 songs to sing in the shower when you want to feel all the feelings

I often say that I turn to poetry when I need to feel all the feelings because the words of others help me find my own words when I'm neck deep in being human.

Music so often does the same thing for me.

Over the weekend, I found myself singing a medley of songs to just get myself out of a shame spiral that came up totally unexpectedly. When I was suddenly grooving to Billy Joel's "Just the Way You Are" while in the shower and feeling all that cheesy goodness of remembering that "my people" really do just want me to be me, I knew I wanted to make a list of the songs I turn to when I want to just be in the feelings, whatever they are. 

This is just part of that list, and is mostly full of songs that I pretty much know all the words to so I can sing them (or at least the chorus) in the shower or while pulling weeds (or just looking at the weeds) or cleaning the kitchen etc. Basically songs I don't need to also be listening to in order to sing. As I started pulling these songs together, I realized I could probably list about 50 or more but 20 is more the length of a mixed tape and oh how I miss mixed tapes.

Because of course music taste varies, if you have your own "feeling all the feelings" songs you like to sing or listen to, I hope you'll share them in the comments.

*****

When you want to feel empowered for setting a boundary or two: Kelly Clarkson's "Since U Been Gone"

When you need to remind yourself that you're going to get through: fun.'s "Carry On"

When you need to remember that it's okay to still be really really mad (at least until it starts to distract your from actually living): Dixie Chick's "I'm Not Ready to Make Nice"

When you need to remember that you aren't alone over there: Carol King's "You've Got a Friend"

When you want to remind yourself that you have all the wisdom inside you to take the next step: Stephanie Dosen's "Brave"

When you want to step deep into vulnerability while also feeling the empowerment of singing one of the greatest songs of all time: Dolly Parton's "Jolene" (you knew it was going to make the list)

When the spark of something wondrous feels within your grasp: Joshua Radin's "Brand New Day"

When you need to remember that it doesn't matter what "they" say: Taylor Swift's "Shake It Off" (obviously)

When you're shaking off the shackles of who you're supposed to be: Queen's "I Want to Break Free"

When you're kind of hoping to get your sexy on: Jonatha Brooke's (featuring Keb' Mo') "All You Gotta Do Is Touch Me"

When you need the reminder that you aren't too much and you really can show up as you: Billy Joel's "Just the Way You Are" (I can't help myself. It's back in my life and I can't stop. Won't stop.)

When you just want to be in the sadness (or perhaps the miracle) of it all: Any version of "Hallelujah" from k.d. lang to Justin Timberlake and Matt Morris to (of course) Leonard

When you just want to give into the missing of that someone who isn't in your life anymore: Jim Croce's "Photographs and Memories" (I'll pass the tissues)

When you know it's time: Michael Jackson's "Man in the Mirror"

When you're fresh in the OMG how did this happen to me: Cee Lo Green's "Forget You"

When you want to bring on the joy: the Glee version of "Don't Stop Believing"

When nostalgia and what used to be or might have been is tugging on you: Judy Garland's "Somewhere Over the Rainbow"

When you're deep in the grief and know it's okay to be there: Kenny Roger's "You Were a Good Friend"

When you're trusting the decision you're about to make: Rosie Thomas' "Wedding Day"

When you're letting in light and know things are getting better: Paul Simon's "Gone at Last" (This one is on just about every music list I have - dance it out, sing it out, get connected to who you want to be, dance with ellie, put on in the studio and shake it out, and how the list goes on.) 

And because oh my gosh I miss the days of mixed tapes, I made this list into a YouTube playlist here. 

What are you listening to over there when you want to feel all the feelings? Share in the comments. I'd love to know!

*****

For more prompts and stories about creative-self care, sign up for my (almost) weekly newsletter right here.

how are you over there?

 

How are you? Really. How. are. you?

(Let it out. You might even want to speak your truth in the comments of this post today. I'll catch your words over here from this place of loving silence. Yes.)

a spring sale

Over in my shop, I'm having a spring sale!

Just use coupon code SPRING15 to take 15% off your order from now through Sunday evening.

compassion

When you read these words,
I hope you will pause
right here. 

Take a breath with intention,
and then another.
Let your shoulders relax,
feel your heart expand,
your feet ground you into the earth.

Then, when you are ready,
inhale and send compassion
out into the world
to anyone you know
who needs it.

Exhale and let this compassion
settle over you.

Then repeat, repeat, repeat. 

Let compassion lead you
as you take your next step. 

*****

PS For more little reminders and love notes like this one, sign up for my (almost) weekly newsletter (where I also share stories of my real, true adventures in self-care and how I'm building my own bridges in my life).

may you show up as you and let yourself be loved

  

This is a post from deep into my archives. After almost 10 years of blogging, I'm revisiting some of the posts that still hold deep meaning for me in the hopes that you will connect with them too. 

After years of working to recognize the pattern I talk about in this piece, I'm pretty good at quickly seeing when it tries to present itself again. But this is one of those patterns that I think others experience, especially as we spend so much time online. If you recognize yourself, I hope you will try to open yourself up more instead of putting on armor to protect yourself. Again and again I've learned that it is only when I truly show up as me, in all the messiness that can entail, do I really find the people who deeply see me. This is one of the reasons I host retreats: To create a safe environment for women to practice showing up as themselves and seeing what it's like to make friends from that place.

Powerful important stuff.

This post demonstrates though that even when you know this, it can still be hard. But we keep trying anyway. (This is what keeping our hearts open is really all about I think.)

*****

I've been thinking a lot about how I really know how to get lost inside my own head, and how sometimes that means getting lost inside the past. The truth is that the past is what gives us the experiences we need to deal with the moment we are living in, but sometimes the past creates a path where you are walking knee deep in murky stuff that isn't helping you at all but is instead threatening to pull you under.

A pattern has begun to make itself clear. I try very hard to feel alone in a group. I try to find a reason why someone won't like me or why I'm being invited to feel left out or why I'm not the most interesting person there so of course people really do not want me to be part of it all and oh how the list goes on.

(It is very embarassing to admit this.)

I try to find little reasons to feel lonely, even when I'm having a good time. And here is the thing, i don't even really realize I'm doing it because I'm so wrapped up in telling myself, "See, see, I'm right. They don't even want to listen to you/your ideas..." or some other such nonsensical phrasing that I try to make myself believe. Somehow this must have been working for me in the past. This walking in the back of the group "Oh look at me, no one even wants to walk with me" kind of crap...it must have been working. I think it is how I could justify feeling lonely so often.

And I suppose the reality is that I've had some experiences where this little voice has been proven right. Where someone seemed like a friend but wasn't. Where a group acted like they wanted me to be part of their closeness but when I was really myself, I was rejected.

These experiences have given that voice power..."see, I'm right!" it says...

So when I found myself invited to a weekend with a dear friend I've spent a lot of time with in person and two bloggers I couldn't wait to meet in person and spend time with, I said yes. And I didn't even think about saying no. I guess I wasn't allowing myself to dwell on any negative possibilities because if I did, I might have a total panic attack thinking that the rejection I'd felt from other bloggers I'd spent time with might happen again.

And I never did let that panic even whisper loud enough to warrant recognition.

Still, I tried to feel alone in a group again.

Yes. I. Did.

Even though I was having an incredible time. Even though I felt truly embraced. Even though I was staying in a home where I feel like family when I'm there.

I still tried to let the past stomp on the present.

But, this time, I tried to just observe it while it was happening. I recognized it, "Oh, there you are again. There you are trying to invite me to see something that isn't happening. I see you." And I just let myself feel it, while also staying really, really present in what was happening around me.

And a funny thing happened. I couldn't convince myself that it was happening again because all the evidence pointed to an experience with three women where I was being really seen for all of me.

Staying present while allowing myself to be honest with me about the emotions that were coming up allowed me to remain grounded while recognizing my own wisdom.

And, there is this other piece of deciding not to share all those feelings as I was having them because even though I was surrounded by women who care about me, who would have listened, sometimes the sharing creates an unexpected drama that just isn't needed if you allow yourself to find that grounding within.

I believe this one simple truth: We all want to be liked.

But there is another layer of this: We need to like ourselves.

I know that might sound simple or silly or "mid-80s new agey," but we need to look at the truth of our own self-reflection and be honest about what we say to ourselves and how that invites its own layer of confusion as we live in our lives. Or should i say, I'm doing this a bit more each day and realizing how it enables me to be so much more fully present in my life.

I started this blog in the middle of the two-year yoga teacher training i did a few years ago. I was in the midst of understanding how just being with one's breath, present within the inhale and exhale, could change one's life. The idea of trying to "be present, be here."

Learning to really live this, not just speak of it, is a pretty intense experience.

But, I think it is really living. Living by being present and grounded and embraced within your own knowledge and truth...while allowing yourself to be loved.

My hope for you is that you let yourself be loved.