For much of my life I felt broken. Like something (everything) about me was totally wrong. My body was wrong. My words were wrong. My choices were wrong. I was beyond fixing.
None of that was true. From love and not shame, healing continues to reveal itself to me. Allows me to look honestly at the places my hurt has come from. Retell the untellable stories, see what’s real and what’s not. Slowly undo the damaging stories I’ve been telling myself and speak directly to my own darkness.
That isn’t about being broken, it’s about seeking healing.
There is a narrative floating around that we should “never look back.” That “the past has nothing more to teach us.” While I understand obsessing about old stories is not a productive past time, looking with fresh eyes at places you’ve been- things you have buried, requires bravery and lends itself to peace.
What we refuse to see, attempt to hide of ourselves, only magnifies in darkness. It shows up in other kinds of pain. It is ever-present until we allow ourselves to walk through it. That is not weakness my friend, that is warrior shit.
Having a daughter was the wake up call for me, to shift my thinking out of victimhood and into an introspective journey back home to myself. Born from the most honest love for my daughter and her mother, I have been marching toward what hurts. Seeking my wholeness. Collecting the pieces of myself I left in stories I wanted to leave behind.
I don’t think for a second that I’m alone, my inbox, my conversations, the women that run up to me after I speak to share their stories, all tell the same tales. We are aching for our stories to matter. To uncover what we’ve left behind. To see ourselves as we are, unbroken. To warrior.
I can’t tell you where it is you need to go. I believe whole heartedly that you already know. That as you read these words, those stories already came to the surface. They are asking you to remember. To look with fresh eyes. To believe you are worth showing up for, to tell a new story of you.
You are the only person with that power.
Following what aches has lead me to mentors, to body workers, to write it all down. To examine the words that float in my head and see with new clarity where they came from. I have allowed myself to be open to my wounds, to finally be angry and let my rage be medicine too. To mourn where I haven’t. To be kind to myself where I wasn’t. To look again.
I found pieces of myself I left on the ground when he raped me, where I learned to float outside of my body instead of be present. I have stood on that ground as the woman I am today, I came back for myself, let go of the notion that no one rescued me. Because I did. I learned to fight, got my bite back. I came back home to my body.
I found the pieces of myself I learned to silence when my voice was deemed “too much.” Learned to ground myself and speak from my feet up. To stop apologizing for my conviction, that passion is not just leadership when it comes from a man.
I collected the piece of myself that lived in paralysis. Terrified of what others would think if I moved, breathed, changed. I let go of the notion that my fully realized self lived behind a locked door, only opened by perfection that I could only seek and not obtain. I found myself to be whole.
Perhaps the most beautiful thing to me, is that I believe I’m just getting started. But instead of that feeling like a hill too far and high to climb, it feels like an adventure I know I’m made for. I no longer fear what’s in store for me, or where else I might be asked to go as I follow my intuition and what calls to me. Instead I find strength in the knowing that I can handle it. Of that I remind myself daily.
Our healing does not come from our silence. It does not come from brushing aside our darkness, the hurt that lives in our bellies, our hips, our bodies asks to be freed.
You are not broken. Even if the world has not offered you only it’s best. You deserve to look again. To seek what you know is seeking you. You are not broken, you have survived. But you are being called to become a warrior. You are your own mother now. The laboring has come.
Letters to Lola feels like a huge release. To honor and acknowledge where I’ve been to the very person I feel most conditioned to hide that from. Due to demand, I am working to release the book ahead of schedule so that it can be delivered by Mother’s Day instead of launching that day. My newsletter folks will be the first to know. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for being a part of my healing. Both the support and the backlash has forged a new woman of me. And she is one I am proud to continue to become. XO