Poetry for the soul searching for herself, in all the noise of how to be. Maybe you can pull up a chair, read these words, and just stay for a while, here, in the invitation to just be.

So, as you might imagine, my efforts to create certainty became a coping method. It was one of the ways my nervous system learned to create safety.

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…

There are moments, big and small, in my life that have me smiling, feeling encouraged by a sense of healing, greater capacity and depth…

So I started gathering pieces of other people as reference points. The way they lived, their resolve, their creativity…

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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…

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…

Then the nuance found me and disrupted everything. I realized that despite the initial success, the changes were not sticking in a lasting, meaningful way. I struggled to stay…