I have found that cultivating safety in the fear, to find a new way forward, is not about control or force at all. It is about a kind of surrender. It looks like staying with myself when fear bubbles up and listening to my body and how it organizes around that fear. When I feel the urge to control, I try to…

This is one example of a theme in my life that’s been weaving itself in and out of my motherhood, with origins in my past. This idea that mess, mistakes, process, hard seasons, flaws, and imperfections signify that there is something wrong. And supporting that is deep shame because as hard as I tried...

There are moments, big and small, in my life that have me smiling, feeling encouraged by a sense of healing, greater capacity and depth, that not long ago would have had the opposite effect.

Something I have grown to cherish, though, is that my life feels deeply shaped by the privilege to feel and be connected to what moves me. And so I’ve come to believe a healthy nervous system isn’t calm all the time.

So I started gathering pieces of other people as reference points. The way they lived, their resolve, their creativity, and how they moved through the world. I thought if I could collect enough of those pieces, I could stitch myself together into someone whole.

We often think of self-care as a list: take a bath, meditate, journal, go for a walk. And while these things can be nourishing, if we aren’t ready to truly receive them, they won’t quite satisfy. The noise underneath will only grow louder as we keep brushing against the surface of our needs.

This journey has brought me to my knees more times than I can count. I went the spiritual route, believing I just needed to pray harder or trust more deeply. I tried mindfulness, hypnotherapy, meditation. I sought help from naturopaths, kinesiologists, chiropractors, and…

In my marriage, I lived in defense for a long time. Disappointment, while uncomfortable, became familiar. I did not realize it was a survival response. I simply thought I had high standards, or that I was being clear about what mattered to me.

It is a kind of oxymoron, a weird, squiggly journey, to start with such an adverse concept of self, only to find that love and wholeheartedness are about coming home to your own body, thoughts, emotions, and process… to own your story.

What If We Started With Compassion? Connection doesn’t begin with control. It begins with empathy. The work of connection is acceptance of the human experience, including our own.

I remember becoming aware of my own patterns of perfectionism long before I understood them as a survival response. At the time, I still believed I needed to be fixed. So I approached this as a problem I had to solve…

I recognized this voice. It belongs to the part of me that seeks control in order to avoid something. As I stayed with her, I sensed what was behind the bracing. A wounded part that is so very afraid. The desire to avoid made sense, because her pain is overwhelming. The pain of not being enough, of rejection and criticism, of grief, and of self-abandonment.

For months I’ve been holding myself in this tension, between empathy and the fear of failing them. And then one morning, wisdom whispered something beautiful. She reminded me that my purpose is not to create perfect versions of myself. My purpose is far more poetic, meaningful, and tangible than perfection. Thank goodness...

The part of me that feels anxious… she’s allowed to be here. When I feel critical, she’s allowed to be here. When I feel scared, she’s allowed to be here. The girl that feels shame in a memory that visits me, she’s allowed to be here. This memory is allowed to surface and show me these parts of myself that I’m still learning how to hold.

But there’s another way of listening. One that doesn’t replace the story, but gently expands the space we’re listening from. A more honest and regulating way. It is when we invite our attention to how the experience is felt in the body. Nothing needs to be pushed away or replaced. As we widen our listening to include sensation…

An ode to my beautiful niece, Evie Grace, whose passing on this day in December 2017 first unearthed my journey with grief.

After a lifetime of hyper-vigilance, it feels almost strange to notice that my default is slowly, gently shifting toward rest, joy, and peace. This journey began the moment I was conceived, but it came into conscious focus after the birth of my second child, my wonderful boy Jace; when being the “perfect” mom was no longer possible.

What I eventually discovered is that self-abandonment never leads to healing or love. When I stopped trying to fix myself and instead practiced presence with my pain, my limits, and the way my body, heart, and soul meet the world, growth could begin. But it required me to slow down.