If you have followed me for a period of time, coached with me, or even met in IRL, for that matter, you will have heard me use the words “Belief Structures.”
Yet, it remains the part of my job that either scares the shit out of people or intimidates them because they just don’t understand it. So I thought I would break it down for you. Kind of explain it to you, in standard Lana-ism stories. Stories that keep bringing people back to this blog, although the reasons why that is still remain foreign to me lol
Growing up, my dad farmed. (Well ok, my dad still farms, we just aren’t around to daily witness it, anymore) Harvest was a crazy, busy time of the year around our house. Dad worked long late hours chasing wheat in the fields, while my mom packed the lunches and prepped the meals.
(On a side note: I can still to this day, make a mean farmer worthy sandwich like nobody’s business, but because this isn’t a resume for a diner job, I will spare you the details)
My dad and the team of men were pretty clear on suppertime requirements. It had to consist of three things:
It had to happen promptly at 6pm
It had to be a strong meal with meat, potatoes, and a vegetable (salad was ok, but not always appreciated)
Dessert was strongly encouraged
Because the nearest grocery store that had “fair prices” was an hour away our pantry was fully stocked each week with ANY possible meal requirement to sustain these hungry men.
As a result of the grocery store distance, my mom used to keep Jello pudding in the pantry because it had a long expiry date, it was to ONLY be used during a harvest lack of dessert emergency. It was a dessert she could dress up with whip cream. TADA! Magical!
We knew the Jello Pudding packages were off limits. We didn’t ask for them. They were for grumpy harvest men emergency dessert. It became a strong belief structure in our home.
The first year I moved out on my own, I proudly went grocery shopping for the first time. Stocking my cupboard with all the household requirements I remembered from back home; WHITE bread, Miracle Whip, not mayo, etc. I purchased all the products we used at home, and then triumphantly included THE JELLO PUDDING in my initial purchase.
The Jello Pudding was placed on the shelf, to sit and wait for an adequate
The sacred pudding even made the move from my lowly apartment to mine and Dons first house. Still untouched. Waiting.
Five years later, Don and I are packing for our next house. As we packed items into boxes, the Jello Pudding was removed from its spot in the pantry. It had officially expired.
And that’s when Don says to me “Ummm, we had Jello Pudding, why didn’t we eat it, that stuff is AWESOME!”
I pluck it from his hand, throughly annoyed and “remind” him of the rule he couldn’t possible know, “Jello is for EMERGENCIES”
He laughs, big huge rolling laughs. And then asks “And what kind of emergency will you be solving with Jello Pudding?”
There it was! I started laughing too! But I also realized, I didn’t need the Jello Pudding. I didn’t have dessert emergencies. This was something I just lived and learned. But I didn’t need it! I lived FIVE minutes from any grocery store. If an emergency ever popped up, I could pop out and pick up whatever I needed.
THIS is an example of a belief structure. Something you are taught at a young age, and then just continue on with. You don’t question it, or evaluate if it’s effective in your world.
You don’t think to, it’s just engrained in you and you do it. Without ever realizing it could be different
One of my jobs as an Empowerment Life Coach is to assist my clients in creating the life of their dreams. And how I do that is by assisting them in noticing the belief structures they carry.
Now, even though my Jello story was harmless and didn’t effect my life negatively. The truth is, we all carry structures that are blocking us from moving forward. Which have much stronger influences in our lives and futures, we just can’t see it!
Sometimes we want to create something different than how we are raised, but we can’t do that with old belief structures of our parents, now can we?
Even if you grew up in a fabulous childhood, for example, we all still come out with something we want to do differently than how we were raised. Its human nature to want more and create more. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. And I will wager a guess, your parents want that for you, as well.
Holding onto old belief structures, would be like having an old barn on your property. You decide you want a new barn, a NEW and IMPROVE barn, but yet you reuse the original wood from the old barn.
When you’re done building it you will soon realize, this barn will not exactly be the NEW and IMPROVED version you were looking for.
Our lives are like that.
If you want more money than you did growing up, you can’t go around quoting Grandpa Joe by telling people “Money doesn’t grow on trees, it takes hard work at a job you hate!”
Living within those belief structures will only keep you in old patterns.
Belief structures are super hard to spot because 98.73% of them we don’t even know we have. Much like the Jello story, we just do it, until someone points out we don’t have to do that!
(This is where life coaches are helpful, I’m just sayin lol)
What are some belief structures you have in your house? Things you do just because you were taught that way? Do you need it? Do you want it? Does it serve you for what you are creating? Allow yourself the freedom to “throw out the Jello Pudding”
Thank you for sharing in my journey. If you like this post, please share it.
The other day while cruising my social media I tumbled across this little beauty of a meme:
And if I came to your door late at night,With the promise of racing dragons in the moonlight.Would you laugh and call me insane?Or, would you take my hand and follow me to wonderland?
I quickly sent it to my friend with a big old “Yep I’d follow you” tag with my message.
She’s a dragon lover; her house is filled with them. So, if there is ever a person to knock on my door and offer to race dragons in the moonlight, this is the girl!
But yet, the longer the message sat with me the more I started to think about friendship and what it means and the things we will do with our friends. Isn’t it funny how our closest friends can, nearly always, talk us into anything.
And first, let me clarify: I am not talking about peer pressure here. I’m NOT talking about peeing behind a Loraas bin at a local bar on a Friday night at 2:30 in the morning because you are trying to maintain your status upon your peers Although haven’t we all done THAT?! No?? Just me. Ok, ok, let’s move along.
What I’m talking about is fierce friendships – where they believe in you and you believe in them. And perhaps even, during some points of the friendship, they believe in us more than we believe in ourselves.
I feel like I’m meandering around the point so let me just break it down like this:
My friend believes in Dragons. 100%! She is also a person who believes 100% in everything she surrounds herself with. And because she’s my friend, that means she has chose to also believes in ME. The brilliance of this is…I believe in her too.
And so … should she knock on my door and offer a dragon race I would go. Not because I necessarily believe in dragons, but I believe in her belief in them. And if she believes I am qualified to race a dragon through the moonlight, well all be damned, I’m racing a god damn dragon!
And that’s the point I’m trying to make. Friendship is an incredibly powerful thing that allows us to accomplish the most amazing things JUST because someone told us we could. That we were good enough, or big enough, or funny enough, or smart enough, or qualified enough or chosen or whatever else we feel we are lacking in that moment.
Friendship is a beautiful force that allows us to do the things we never ever thought possible. Friendship is having people who take your hand and say “Why not ride the dragon.”
I would ride the dragon just so we could retell the story to each other for years to come. Just so we could laugh about my bed head when she knocked on my door at midnight. Just so we could giggle about how I doubted there was two dragons – regardless of the fact that they are tame enough to actually ride them!!! But most importantly, just so we could high five the shit out of each other when those babies drop us back off at my front door in one piece.
Isn’t that the beauty about having amazing people in your world? You can share your dream with them. You know, that silent dream that you have thought about at 3 am in the dark and couldn’t imagine sharing with anyone. And, yep, there is a chance they could say you’re insane. But the risk is worth it, because you have a greater chance to create a memory that no one else will ever have together.
Friendship creates the moments when you can whisper your dream…and they say “So why haven’t you done it yet?” and you can tell them all the reasons why not. And THEN they help you create a space where you could actually start to believe you could.
I have created incredible things in my world and it’s all because of women who have said “I believe you can!”
When you have friends who believes in you, sometimes more than you believe in yourself, you can create incredible things!
(With dance season coming to a close; many dance parents are stressed with lipstick colors, outfit steaming and hair extension placement, I thought I would reshare this post I created last year. I hope it makes you giggle)
I am a self proclaimed people watcher. Perhaps it’s because of my work as a Psychic and therefore, my ability to read nearly anyone, all the while appearing perfectly “normal.”
Or perhaps it’s because people are downright fascinating.
I’ve come to realize that every crowd can be divided into groups. Each crowd has the same “types” of people.
If you watch. If you sit quietly and just take it all in, you begin to see the same dynamic over and over.
Within crowds, we all find ourselves within the others present. Our tribe. The people who we resonate with. Those who we understand.
This weekend was E’s first dance class of the season. And our first dance class ever!
All us parents dutifully sat shoulder to shoulder politely waiting for our little darlings to complete their 45 minute initiation into the world of dance.
Once E is no longer visible on the big screen provided, I start to look around.
What a riveting group of people seated around me.
So just for a giggle, I divided them into types, in my mind.
And I thought I would share them with you:
1) The Purse Protector
This poor soul is convinced she has something magnificent in her purse that we all would want; her purse is the envy of us all and it’s only a matter of time before someone snatches it.
As a result, she clutches her purse tightly to her chest, for the entire 45 minutes of wait time.
She also either complete avoids eye contact. OR will glare at anyone who is a suspected Purse Snatcher.
Sometimes, if she senses she can trust the crowd, she will place her purse on the seat beside her. Thereby, taking away an available spot for another human!
2) The Posse
aka The Click
aka The Cool Kids
This is the “in crowd”. Usually consists of no less than five moms. All their daughters dance and their sons play soccer, TOGETHER. And on weekends, they drink wine and host dinner parties while their husbands drink in the garage, TOGETHER.
They can be found huddled in the corner together sharing coffee and laughing loudly; paying no attention to their dancing child on the TV screens provided.
When their child emerges from the class, one will state “That was fast” and all will agree!
3) The Socialite
She seemingly floats around the room to greet everyone she knows.
And she surely knows everyone.
She is mistaken for the studio owner or hostess (or whomever runs the event she’s currently at) but she is actually not affiliated in any way.
She will eventually make herself comfy seated in The Posse/Click.
4) The New Mom
She has guilted herself into registering her child for dance. She is clearly exhausted judging from her sweatpants, slept in pony tail and bags under her eyes.
She is convinced that if her child misses this, it will surely result in family therapy sessions for her in the teenage years. So she pushes herself to the very brink of her existence.
She will also have another child on her hip and stains on her shirt. (Child on her hip will be dressed in a sleeper and sporting major bed head)
This woman needs a friend. This woman needs coffee. Oh hell, this woman would weep for both. Smile at her.
5) The Pro at Being a Mom
She rolls in with a state of the art stroller housing two tiny babies, while hoisting an infant on her hip, a coffee, a dance bag and a toddler trailing behind her.
She is dressed in brand name clothes, tasteful makeup, perfectly placed hair and manicured nails.
The only reason you don’t throat punch her type of perfection is because she has spit up on the shoulder of her shirt and her toddler has decided to throw a full tantrum and you can tell she’s close to tears. Who wouldn’t be. This woman is a god damn super hero! The only reason she’s not wearing her cape is, clearly, because one of her kids barfed on it.
6) The Soft Talker Mom
This mom delivers all messages to her children laced with nouns like “Darling,” “Sweetie,” and I’m pretty sure I even heard “My little pigeon poop”. But all are carried out in just over a whisper. This Mom is also prone to frequent eyelash fluttering and nose dabs.
These types of moms make us question if our own children would respond better if we lowered our vocal octave.
Maybe they would pay attention.
Then we quickly decide, “Nah, they would never take us serious.”
7) The Deer In the Headlights Dad
Self explanatory: The Dad who has been elected, by his wife, to take his child to dance for, very obviously, the first time.
They can be found smushed up against the wall doing their best impression of a chameleon.
Often you will see DITH Dad “saved” by The Socialite. The Socialite will have never met the husband, but absolutely knows the mom (his wife) and the child.
The Socialite will place DITH Dad’s child in line and fix her shoes.
DITH Dad will look relieved.
BONUS: May sometimes appear as Wife is on Holidays Dad. The major tell tale characteristic of a WIOH Dad is the dancer will usually be dressed in an inside out bodysuit with tights OVER (not under) said body suit. In addition to the wardrobe malfunction, all other traits remain the same.
8) The Ultimate Snack Mom
This mom’s purse is the size of Costco and equally as stocked. She will continue to pull out Pintrest perfect snacks for her and brood for the entire 45 minute wait.
I forecast that Snack Mom will become part of the Posse before long.
9) The Former Dancer
She sits with poise and straight posture, her head held high and toes pointed.
She was on her way to the Olympics until she blew out her knee in practice and her dreams shattered.
She has a daughter now, who she hopes will carry on her dream.
She sits glued to the big screen as her “Mini Me” learns to tap while holding a scarf.
The Posse talks about her. But it’s only because she’s so damn elegant and well, they wish!
10) The Organized Mom
She comes armed with snacks, toys, iPads, crayons, colouring books, sand toys, blankets, games, playdoh, a puppy, a generator, a DustBuster and who the hell knows what else.
While her purse size rivals Ultimate Snack Mom, her snacks do not.
She is more than happy to encourage her children to “share” with EVERY other kid in the entire studio, much to her own kids dissatisfaction.
11) The Unorganized Mom
May be confused with The New Mom, but make no mistake these two are completely different.
She comes BOLTING through the doors ten minutes AFTER class has started only to ask her child, “Where are your dance shoes.”
She leaves her child inside while she runs back out to retrieve missing shoes from the back seat.
She returns, this time puffing, to drop her child into class.
She then hands the infant in her arms the car keys to chew on because she forgot the diaper bag, with his toys and bottle and diapers, at home.
She stares longingly at Organized Mom’s toy set up and spends the 45 minutes working up the courage to ask if her child can play too.
She also, silently prays that he doesn’t shit himself while they wait.
12) The Newbie
Her chaos started when she made this mistake of waiting until the week BEFORE dance class to get her child’s outfit. She had no idea how popular dance class is.
She shopped armed with the outfit list provided by the studio. And followed it to the letter. But the trauma from the last minute shopping trip still haunts her.
She follows all the rules of the studio ie: removing all shoes at the door and having her child’s hair in a ponytail or bun as was suggested in the pre-class email.
She is secretly annoyed with anyone who thinks they are above such rules and allows their child to wear different outfits than stated or *gasp* pigtails. How dare they?
She spends her time people watching and trying to figure out what types of people she is now surrounded by.
Guess which one I am!!Although, I honestly feel like I have been many of them one time or another. In one group or another.
Ohmigosh! I seriously am so excited to share this with you! I have so many reasons I love this book ….
As 99% of you know we started our homeschool journey two years ago. (We actually JUST completed our second year of homeschooling this week). When we started that first year, we created goals for each of our kids. We had three goals for each of them and they were: Academics, spirituality and self esteem/self worth. We wanted our children to grow in each of these three categories.
Academics was the easiest one to create for them. As homeschoolers, there is no shortage of curriculum to choose from to align with any education standards you wish to achieve.
The self esteem proved to be easier than we thought as well. Apparently love IS ENOUGH lol – Each of boys have grown in this avenue substantially. But I know its strongly because we create an atmosphere in which they are able to honor themselves at all costs. We put very little pressure on them in the way of social requirements and really allow them to move through their lifetime as freely as they wish.
The last leg of our goals has been more difficult to create for them however. When I started homeschooling, I took my knowledge as an Intuitive Empowerment Coach and wanted to create a space in which my kids could listen to their souls and hearts and decide what they wanted.
Unfortuntely for them, their mother is strongly versed in the lingo that connects with ADULTS and I had a difficult time bringing it down to a kids level in a fun way that they can connect to it.
I noticed early on that there is a plethora of books for kindness, sharing, keeping promises, bullying and so many other childhood topics however, NO one wrote about honoring your soul.
I have worked with countless adults who have to LEARN at an adult age what honoring your soul means (myself included). And as such, I really wanted to teach my kids to do it now, instead of waiting until they are adults when it seems to be SO. MUCH. MORE. DIFFICULT.
And then I learned of THIS book. Your Inner Compass That Could. This book was written by Kristin Pierce, a fellow Sasky girl (woop woop)! And she teaches kinds in rhyming words and fun illustrations how to honor their INNER COMPASS!
I was sooo excited to get my hands on this book and share it with my Littles (age 6 & 8). I am a huge believer that every child should know a few things that are mentioned in this book…
First, that they have an inner compass (or as us adults call it, their soul) which knows why they are here and can guide you if you let it! Yay! So great.
Second, it teaches them that if they want to change their minds about where they are heading they can. Woohoo High Fives, Kristin! Cause how many times as adults do we stay in a space because we have “committed” instead of honoring the fact that our souls desires have changed. This portion of the book gives the kids the freedom to change and reroute and realign and it doesn’t make it scary or a bad thing!! Like I said, High Fives, girl!
Next it teaches them when we ignore our compass not to worry, just blow off the dust and realign. We do this as adults ALL. THE. TIME. We lose our way. We get tossed back up into our old thoughts and belief structures and programs and forget to honor us. This passage in the books releases all the fear and guilt, and just reminds us to “blow the dust off” and realign. BOOM!
I love this book for a hundred reasons. But for fear that I will give away all the goodness of the book, I will leave you with only those three above points.
THEN, because you know, Kristin is just a rock star. She created activities to go with the book FOR FREE. With a link listed at the back of the book, you can access add on activities to help the kids really discover their Inner Compass.
And as a homeschool mama, this was a perfect addition to our curriculum.
We did the “Door of Unlimited Possibilities” activity. It allows the kids to create their door and look within themselves for what they want for their future using their inner compass (their soul) as their guide.
This activity was so much fun. I did take a bit of a side road and allowed my kids the freedom of creating any door they wanted (even though Kristin provides a template, I’m sure she won’t mind our detour lol)
My littles just blew me away with their creativity and original ideas on what their door looks like. We didn’t even google doors or anything, they just knew! It made me so proud of them!
Here’s some pictures of them creating their “Door of Unlimited Possibilities”
This one (above) is C’s – he had large double doors because he said he needed HUGE doors. Anyone who knows my C knows there is not a truer statement ever spoken. That boy is HUGE with his energy and spiritual knowledge. I could see why his soul would desire a dramatic double door. Inside he created his dream of being a Roblox YouTuber with 30 trillion? viewers! Rock and roll, little buddy. If anyone can woo 30trillion viewers it will be you!
This one (above) is Miss E’s. She needed her door surrounded with flowers and a door hidden amongst them. Once again, that’s our girl. She keeps her biggest and brightest moments put away and only those closest to her will see her wit and charm and LOVE. If you aren’t in her circle, she will nod and smile and walk away so non-chalantly that you will wonder if she talks at all. She does. She’s my daughter, so trust me, SHE DOES! Inside she created her dream of owning a unicorn. And while the mom in me wanted to tell her to create something attainable…I controlled myself and just let her have the freedom of connection. I wanted her to allow herself to move into her soul and allow her six year old self to dream and feel her soul. And what six year old little girl wouldn’t dream of riding off on a unicorn. Hell, I know some adults who still want this to happen.
So there you have it folks! This book is a home run over here. It allowed us to accomplish a portion of our goals for our kids that nothing has been able to touch.
Thank you Kristin for writing a book that has moved our family. Not only did you allow my kids to connect with themselves in a new capacity, but you also allowed me to create a space of dreaming for them.
Our family is so incredibly grateful that you followed your heart. You listened to your inner compass and created a ripple that is felt all the way over here!!
It is also available in the following stores:
– Cole’s in Northgate Mall – Regina
– Chapters Indigo – Regina
– McNally Robinson =- Saskatoon
– Coles in Lawson Heights Mall – Saskatoon
– Santosha Yoga – Warman
– Rosetown Central Plains Co-op – Rosetown
(Discalaimer: LanaEckel.com did not receive any monetary imbursement for the creation of this post. All links included are not affiliated with LanaEckel.com nor are we receiving any funds for this product review)
An open letter to the Strasbourg Community & Surrounding Areas:
My family is new here. Six months ago, we (a couple of “citidiots”) packed up everything we had in our city life and moved to an acreage 8km from you. To get back to our roots as small town folk. To try our hand at chicken keeping. But most importantly, to get quiet and reconnect to ourselves.
My husband and I are both small town folks growing up. (My husband hails from Quinton and I, from Findlater.)
Growing up in a small town we know how it works. Although I know each small town has its own clicks and querks – at the heart each small town is the same.
The hockey rink is the local hub of socialization. As soon as kids are old enough they are placed on the ice with a helmet, a stack stool and hope. They fall down. Get back up. And try over and over again.
Eventually they move into hockey. The small town sport of coveted notoriety.
You can’t have a gathering of parents on a Friday night, during hockey season, without someone discussing their sons or daughters dream of making it to the big leagues.
As much as towns this size are known for their gossip or clicks or querks there’s also a beauty within it that shines so brightly in a time of tragedy such as what you have endured over the weekend.
There is a love. A love for one another. A love for those lost. A love so deep and so strong because regardless of what you all have been through throughout the years, you have all loved each other.
As Marks family grieves, you will all grieve with them. Because in small towns, everyone loves each other as their own.
I admire how you have all come together. And continue to hold each other up. And share stories. But most importantly: LOVE.
Please know, as your new neighbours we are sending you love. Our hearts are broken with you. We have shed tears for your beloved Mark as well as for all the individuals lost this weekend. And will continue to hold you all in our thoughts as you try to move through this pain.
From where we sit, 8kms away we can feel your sorrow, your pain, and your profound sadness. And our hearts are shattered with yours.
We didn’t grow up here. We didn’t know Mark. We don’t have a family connection to the roots of this town at all. Yet we understand because we know what it’s like to lose one of your own.
And perhaps this understanding of loss is what is pulling us all together as a province, as a country and as a world. We can only imagine your depth of lose.
We all seem to be connected to this tragedy in someway. Yet, each thread of connection is so vastly different.
But perhaps the only common thread we need is LOVE!
May you all continue to find solace in one another.
May you all share your love and stories and from this solidarity, may you find peace.
May you continue to provide one another with strength as you come to grips with your loss as a community.
We will continue to hold space and send you love from every piece of our hearts to yours.
Much love to Mark’s family. As well as to all of you!
After hitting submit on that post, I headed out of town to work on a project with a friend.
That Monday came and everything dumped on its side. Perhaps it was because I was tired. Perhaps it was because of the project I worked on…Regardless of the reason, something happened on Monday.
And although it’s difficult to put into words, I also know that so often during my most difficult moments, I am reminded that somewhere out there someone else is feeling the same way.
So for those people, I create this post for today.
The Monday started as many of my Mondays over the past three months have started, exhausted. From the moment, my head lifted from my blessed pillow my brain argued with my body. My body was confident we had enough sleep to function, but my mind severely disagreed and longingly wished to climb back under the blankets in which we had just emerged.
I came down the stairs, entered the kitchen and placed my favorite purple coffee mug onto the launch pad of the Keurig. As the coffee lovingly gurgled my sign for a day of new beginnings, I stretched and yawned and looked around my house.
Perhaps I had been under my blanket for far too long and so I was still adjusting to the sunlight that my eyes had grown unaccustomed to. Whatever the reason, that morning as I looked around my house, the piles of toys, the clutter, the papers, the STUFF — it all seemed like ALOT.
As I removed my coffee from the machine and brought the first, delightful sip to my mouth, I honest to God thought, “Did nobody take care of anything around here while I was gone?”
As soon as the thought erupted in my mind, I remember thinking “Lana, that is absurd, you weren’t actually gone, you know that right.”
Yet, I really DID feel like I was gone for the past three months. I felt like I was on vacation or an extended leave and finally came back to my life. Except upon my return, I was trying to squeeze and maneuver myself back in which seemed to require a lot of exertion.
And still everything became more and more strange as the day (and week) went on.
Suddenly my furniture felt uncomfortable. And dark and heavy and boring.
My favorite pants were no longer my favorite. In fact, my entire closet felt like someone else had purchased the clothing and placed them in my closet WITHOUT EVER considering what I would like.
My soothing music in my truck was now loud and harsh. Radio stations were flipped through at lightening speed with little recognition or enjoyment of any tune being played.
The dings on our walls created by our children being children, that were once charming and a right of passage, now seemed like deep canyons which gaped with rude obviousness.
Comedians weren’t funny. Period! I always try to shift my vibration by watching comedians. This week, not even these could shift me.
My kids seemed incredibly LOUD and whiny and needy. As well as completely incapable of understanding the words coming out of my mouth. Which in truth, was half my fault, because I couldn’t seem to decipher what they were asking either.
My bed was hard and smelly adorned with pilled and scratchy sheets.
The ideas and things I felt were fun last week were no longer interesting to me at all.
Friendships were dissected and noticed for their truths.
So many things happened that week, all of which felt so foreign to me. So far away from me. So completely disconnected to me.
All the things (aside from my family) were no longer of interest to me. It’s like I didn’t recognize anything in my life.
I know for much of the week, I wasn’t in my body. I know I do that when shit gets hard. I compartmentalize. I drift away. So as a result, I felt very airy and even more lost.
In honesty, I actually remember looking at myself in the mirror thinking, “What the fuck happened to me?” I felt as though I was plopped into a body that was much too large, and much too old and much to uncared for. As a result, I then thought “Crap, this is gonna be a lot of work to get this body back in proper working order.” (Which I know sounds laughable, but yet it illustrates the level of disconnection that I was going through)
The headaches were enormous and laced with nausea.
By now, I’m sure you get the picture, and now you’re wondering why this was happening to me:
I can’t exactly explain for good reason why this happened. Usually when I share my posts I have a problem followed by a solution. This time I don’t have such a neat little package to present you.
I do understand that lately I have been working on me, in new ways.
I also know we have many planets in Retrograde right now, however I really don’t feel they are to blame. In fact, I feel the opposite and instead believe these retrogrades are helping our planet and us sort through everything more effectively.
I also know that the movement into the 5th Dimension Energy (as soon as I figure out a proper way to write about 5th Dimension, I will create a post to share with you)is affecting me; clearly more than I ever realized.
The only way I can begin to properly explain how I felt that week is like this: Our brains carry files. When we are sad, our brain pulls a file to figure out how to make us happy again. My brain was pulling files, but my body was like the bitchy lady from The Devil Wears Prada shaking her head irritated and stating “No, try again”
So my brain kept pulling file after file after file. But she still wasn’t happy.
Friday was horrible for me. I felt so incredibly sad and lost and I didn’t have any clue how to fix it. So that night I cried, ALOT.
Saturday I left my house with a complete loss of self. I was out to run errands, but I had high hopes on finding myself in the process. Or finding something that made me happy, in the very least.
As I drove (with my stereo off because – ugh – that dreadful music) I was close to freakin’ out. My brain was blowing files and trying to right us, but it was also starting to get scared because it couldn’t figure out what was going on.
And then suddenly my brain pulled a file dated November 2014.
I sat in a room in Sedona, Arizona. Knowing I was on the cusp of transition. Knowing that everything was going to change. Knowing I was going to be ok, even though the change was uncomfortable as hell.
November 2014 I had gone to Sedona to attend a conference that was being held by my coach. I knew this was my last hoorah with her. I knew I was essentially saying Good Bye to her and moving into a new direction with a new coach.
Before the conference even started, I sat in the Arizona sun breathing deep as my brain pulled file after file trying to figure it all out.
I was scared and felt disconnected from everything.
Back in current day, as Regina blows by my trucks windows, I take a deep breathe and realize…
The last time I felt like this, the change that came was one of the greatest change I will ever know. It was a change that catapulted me into who I am today. It created the latest version of me — Lana 2.0, if you will.
So by Saturday I decided, I will be ok. I don’t know what the newest version of me will look like. But I know it will be worth it. As I ran my errands, I took a mental inventory of everything that felt foreign and decided to honor the foreign-ness of it all. If my music was loud and harsh, then I would buy all new discs for my truck. If my clothes felt uncomfortable, I would buy new comfy clothes.
Because I understand, I am shifting and changing and sometimes that means that my world has to shift and change to keep up. What was once safe and calming for me, is no longer so. That doesn’t mean that I am neither safe nor calm, it means my body needs something different to create the safe and calm environment. So that’s what it shall be.
With plenty of elbow room (because who buys CD’s nowadays) in Walmart Electronics Department I sifted through compact discs, the fog in my brain began to lift.
And I felt happier somehow.
When I placed the new discs on the checkout counter, my brain stopped looking for files. Because clearly we were never meant to find those files anyway. So we (my brain and I) are now creating new files. As we wish. As we can. And it feels damn good.
For anyone who is feeling disconnected from your life, know that I’m sending you love. It’s feels scary, especially when you don’t recognize things that you KNOW once made you happy. It’s ok! You are safe. And you are capable of creating a new path. And new files. You can do anything you want to do. Anyway you want to. Take your time. Don’t rush your body. Just listen. You will get there. Hugs and love to you, my brave friends!
According to Google, the average person will own 12 vehicles in their lifetime; with an average price tag of $33,560 EACH! Cities are filled and overflowing with car lots showcasing new and shiny vehicles ranging in econo to luxury.
Their flashy chrome packages or sleek tire rims wrapped in the aroma of the coveted “new car smell” makes even the most stealthy, household budgeter lustily swoon.
We have been trained, as a society, that the number of kilometers on a vehicle indicates how GOOD the vehicle is. Any vehicle over 200,000kms becomes an object in which individuals squint and drive; surely convinced their vehicle is nearly worthless and ready to break down.
Recently, at a tradeshow, as I discussed my hourly rate with someone, she scoffed at me, rolled her eyes, and asked me, “How do I justify that kind of expense in my life.”
I get it. I understand that the mere idea of spending $180 on yourself for a ONE hour session can boggle your mind. I also, understand not every budget can accommodate this type of extravagance. However, I want to wager a guess, that many households can afford it, yet choose to put their money elsewhere.
In fact, I will confidently lay down a bet that the belief structure of it being an obscene expense is really just that – – a belief structure.
And far be it from me to judge.
Instead I would like to add a perspective to this that perhaps some of you have never considered:
<First, I would like to take this juncture in the post, to clarify this is not my personal plea for a larger client base. It is merely the showcasing of a trend. A trend that does not serve you. A trend that you have believed; perhaps without even realizing it. And I implore you to gift yourself the opportunity think differently.>
Six years ago, the idea of spending this kind of money on myself each week to get me out of my depression seemed staggering. I had very little issue, however, justifying the anti-depressant prescription bill each month. And the time off work because I was continuously sick, seemed a small cost to pay as well.
Yet the prospect of spending a large amount of money for ONE hour, well … my brain just simply could not justify it.
The only reason my husband and I agreed to a life coach was because every other avenue had created very little results. We were at a “nothing-to-lose” crossroads, so we apprehensively spent the money.
Over the past six years, if I had to guess, I would say that I have spent (easily) near $30,000 on the betterment of my health. This money was used for private hourly sessions, conferences, workshops and whatever else I needed to learn how create my life. At one time, I recall, spending upwards of $750 in just ONE MONTH (for several months), on private life coaching sessions in order to keep on track.
<I literally heard a whistle escape your lips. Just bear with me.>
How could I justify that expense? How did our family live?
We lived with this thought process …
When I was 21 years old I walked into the local Chevrolet dealership and drove a brand new Blazer off the lot. It had 15kms on it. It was sweet. It was my baby and I was so proud. Yet, that thing nearly broke me financially. It was horrible on fuel as it only got about 20miles per gallon. Add to that the insurance per month and the monthly payment. I was easily spending $600 per month. (The bill would be higher, should I decide to take the “gas guzzler” on a road trip – yeesh)
At the end of three years, I sold the Blazer because it was too hard on fuel, and bought a Chevrolet Malibu. Although it wasn’t brand new as the Blazer was, it was still only two years old.
What’s my point? I never batted an eye over buying the Blazer. Never. I wanted it. I had convinced myself that I would do anything to afford it. And I did.
So why don’t we give the same courtesy to our body. To our minds? To our spirits? Why can we justify a vehicle purchase — but not a coaching session? (or any monies spent towards the betterment of your mind, body and spirit – such as hot yoga, organic food, alternative healing modalities, etc)
What if we consider our bodies our vehicles. Except with this vehicle, YOU ONLY GET ONE. There is no trade ins when the kilometers get too high. There is no lease buy backs or absolutely no refunds.
This body IS IT. You only get one.
We would NEVER expect our Blazer to run without an oil change or seasonal maintenance.
Yet, we expect our bodies to.
We never expect our Blazer to come sit on our driveways for free.
Yet we expect our bodies to.
Consider your body your vehicle. What price would you place on your life?
People say, how will my family live without that money I’m spending on me? Well guess what, if I hadn’t spent that money on me, my family would be without me. I wrote about this in a post entitled “To the Edge and Back” – so I won’t rehash again for you now lol
I will just say this: I’m confident my husband and I would spend the money again, if it meant I could be the person I am today. If it meant I could smile and be present in their lives like I am now.
$30,000 is a heck of a deal for the vehicle that is my body! What price would your put on your life?
After 12 hours of labour that finally concluded in an emergency C-section, the doctor laid my baby boy into my arms and my entire world smashed down with alarming force. As I looked down at his flawless skin, my eyes welled up and nothing would ever be the same.
For the five days following my sons birth, I cried. I cried because I was tired. I cried because I had just completed the most difficult task of my life, which was giving birth.
And I cried because I realized how fucked up my childhood really was.
As I held my baby, my childhood played out like a movie. The flashbacks of an angry mother washed over me like waves.
My childhood scenes of being thrown down hallways, and being hit and kicked by my mother, jarred my brain.
Memories of being smacked until I see stars swamped my mind.
The abuses I endured during my childhood, that had laid dorment and I had managed to push down for so long, now bubbled to the surface at paralyzing speed.
I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t see straight. Over the next five days as a new mother, I swaddled my baby, kissed his cheeks and whispered a promise into his ear, “I will never hurt you.”
The six months that followed my baby’s birth was a living hell.
I knew I wasn’t ok. My childhood hung on me like an old, tattered robe. I knew it was there, but without the knowledge on how to deal with this pain, I just forged forward. Trying to forget it existed. Willing it to change.
But slowly, my life started to fray.
Soon, I became riddled with Post Partum Depression so deeply, that I was barely recognizable. The fears I carried of, even accidentally, hurting my precious child created a space for me to close off. I raised him up with kit gloves, so incredibly cautious never to hurt him. I was terrified that I would abuse him so I pushed him away. And my husband away. All in an effort to push this fear away.
(Don’t get me wrong, I fed him, I nursed him, I rocked him. I did everything I needed to do. But I did it all behind a veil of self preservation. All behind a cloud of fear that abuse would sneak out of me. So I remained diligent to never get angry or frustrated or tiresome with him)
I had nightmares of someone hurting my baby. Every whimper or cry, I was on high alert. I started to hallucinate.
I was terrified and felt dreadfully alone. And embarrassed and ashamed. Why couldn’t I do this? What the hell was wrong with me?
Yet, I kept my promise to my baby… “I will never hurt you”
I went to my doctor, who prescribed me with anti-depressants and I created appointments with a psychiatrist.
I attended sessions faithfully, showing up completely, willing to try anything to keep my promise to my baby boy. After a year of sessions and meds, I stopped going. The sessions started to make me angry and I didn’t feel any better at the end of each one.
Sure, the doctor was very nice, yet no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t wrap my head around the concepts of anger management or forgiveness. For whatever reason, the concepts did not reasonate with my soul.
I know it sounds strange, but I just didn’t “get” it. No matter how many homework assignments I worked through, I still couldn’t find my way.
That being said, I knew I was better than the year before. So I quit the sessions. Moved forward with my life. I felt that although I hadn’t shed the tattered robe of my childhood completely, I understand the presence of it and had made peace with its presence in the very least.
Medication can be tricky. Slowly as the years ticked on, my immunity for the drug grew and as a result, so did my dose requirements. After years of doctors appointments and med changes, I was finally settled in on 300mg of Effexor a day.
And then due to severe night terrors, I was also swallowing 150mg of Trazadone a night to sleep. I used to joke with the pharmacist that it was my personal tranquilizer. Within 5 minutes of taking it, I was asleep. Knocked out cold. But it was a small price to may to keep the night terrors at bay.
By now, our family had welcomed a second baby into our lives. Another brown eyed baby boy who was so gorgeous and bright and he just never stopped smiling.
By the grace of god, I had managed to keep my promise to my oldest son “I will never hurt you” AND, now I had another son to keep the promise for too.
Slowly, the meds stopped working. I say they stopped working, but the truth is I just started feeling again. All the childhood stuff started bubbling again, and because I didn’t know how to process that it created severe anxiety. I was nearly always panicked and shaky and just plain off balance.
Finally, one day, as I sat in my garage smoking a cigarette, I thought to myself, “I wonder if those rafters would hold my body weight. I wonder if I could call it. It’s been a hell of a run. I could call it.”
Yet, as I tossed the idea around in my head, my promise to my sons reared up as a reminder. I couldn’t do that to my babies. I couldn’t make that their story of their mom. I had to stay. I had to keep fighting. I had to find my way out of this.
So I went back to my doctor. As he reviewed my chart, I sat with my hands clasped, waiting patiently for the little white paper slip with illegible scribbles on it. My paper of safety. That little prescription note with a higher volume of meds was going to be my ticket to freedom.
Yet, I was wrong. That day as the doctor closed my file, my entire life would change again. And it would never be the same.
As long as I live I will never forget the heated rush of nausea that surged through my body as my doctor said these words to me, “Lana, I cannot give you more meds. You are on the highest dose of Effexor we can give you right now. Unless you agree to a psychiatric evaluation.”
My breathe was cut again, big fat tears fell down my cheeks as I tried to grasp what he had said to me.
“I honor your decision here, Lana. But I have procedures I need to follow. So in order to increase your medication an evaluation needs to be performed,” he said, yet it was delivered with an intense kindness which only made my tears gush faster.
A timeline was created that day, as it was a Friday, that I would call on Monday with a decision on how I wanted to move forward. As I made my way out of the office and into my truck that afternoon, a million emotions clouded my mind.
I was angry at mother for doing this to me.
I was angry at myself for not trying harder to be ok.
I was angry at the medical system for their stupid fucking rules.
But more importantly, I was sad for all of us. My mom, myself, my kids and my husband.
That weekend by the grace of God himself, I was slated to go to a tradeshow for a home based business I was a part of. This tradeshow was a Body Soul And Spirit Expo.
I had worked for months for preparation for this show. Although the show concept seemed quirky, I stealthily maneuvered my business offerings to surround the shows concepts of self love and acceptance.
This show would ultimately change my life.
The public attendance for the show was lower than what one would deem as a successful trip. Because low attendance generally means lower sales, under any other circumstance, I would be upset with a show of this size.
However, due to the decision I needed to make on Monday, I didn’t have a lot in my tank and was incredibly distracted. So the slowness of the show was actually a gift to me.
It offered me the time to go and explore the other vendors. It was during this time that I would meet my first Intuitive Coach.
After about 15 minutes of chatting with her, I had spilled my story about my night terrors. Because I never shared any of my struggles with anyone, I immediately regretting it and I outwardly cringed as I braced for judgement.
Yet no judgement came, only a story about past lives and reincarnation. Which admittedly confused me, however deep inside my soul, I recognized what she was saying. I could feel it – I could “get it”
She said as an Intuitive Coach she could help me. She could allow me to work through all the things that were clouding me. Hesitant I told her, “I would think about it.”
Upon my return from the show, my husband and I decided to forgo the Evaluation and instead roll the dice on this Intuitive Coach. While her methods seemed unorthodox and her rates seemed staggering to me at the time, my husband and I both agreed, I wasn’t getting better with current methods so we had nothing to lose here.
The Road Back
For the next year, I would work with my coach every single month. I wouldn’t miss a session. She taught me about energy and the laws of attraction and past lives and cellular trauma and manifestation and many other things.
My first session will always be something I hold very near to my heart. She completed a round of counselling with me. A session that during the entire time, I was literally thinking, “What the hell am I doing – this is crazy”
But then something incredible happened.
Following the session that afternoon, I picked up my boys from school and day care and they asked to go to the park. Regularly I would say no to such a request, because I was so exhausted from trying to get through the day. But this day, I agreed.
As my oldest son ran ahead down the walking path, I pushed my youngest in his stroller. And I began to look around and that’s when I noticed — everything!
For the first time in my life, it was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I could hear the birds in the trees and the sound of the water rushing through the stream. The wind in the trees was incredibly beautiful. It was as though I was seeing this all for the first time.
In that very moment, I recall thinking to myself, “Wow! Does everyone see this? Does everyone experience this? No wonder why people want to live. This is incredible!”
From that day forward, it was easy for me to continue to work with the methods and concepts she shared. Not only did I feel better, but they MADE SENSE to me.
Life as an Intuitive Coach
As my time with my coach increased, so did my own personal Intuitive Abilities. In fact, they became so prevalent in my life, that in October 2012 I opened my very own Intuitive Business.
I have been med free for nearly three years. Not without a lot of work and determination. The withdrawl of the drug alone was a difficult battle, but as a result I celebrate everyday for the Divine Intervention I received in 2010.
I opened my business for so many reasons, but the main reason is best summed up by my saying this to you:
I get it. I understand the hurt. I feel your pain. I know you hurt so damn bad. And you don’t want to hurt anymore. Yet, you have no idea what to do or where to turn or how to fix it.
I know you are tired and exhausted and can’t understand why everyone can’t just leave you sleep. It’s not sleep you need, my sweetheart, its freedom.
Freedom of your traumas and pain. Freedom from your hurt. Freedom from the programs that are running in your brain. Freedom to be you and love you and appreciate you for YOU!
That’s why I do my job. For anyone who is hurting. I know how it feels. I’ve been to the edge and back again. I promise you, life is meant to be beautiful and incredible and you are meant to have everything you want.
So I ask you to consider working with me — an Intuitive Life Coach. You can book a session with me OR You can find someone else who resonates with you. Just honor you. However that looks.
You are so beautiful and bright and I promise you , your life is as well. Please allow yourself the gift of reaching out and trying something different. Because sometimes even if it’s different, we have nothing to lose.
It’s been three months since I hit publish on my last blog post. A short enough time span that you all remember me (I hope), but long enough that I owe you an explanation.
I don’t owe explanations, per say! I mean, I guess we all go through some shit and schedules shift and what have you. But I also have remained transparent throughout my blogging time. So this time will not become the exception.
In order to give you my explanation, I need to share with you a little story.
It’s late fall of 2016. As snowflakes began twirling and falling silently, the first signs of a Canadian winter are becoming present. And our house took an, albeit united, still very annoyed breathe.
My kids and I are fair weather people. We don’t mind winter, as long as the sun is shining and it’s not cold. Which, as many of you know, these such requirements do not bode well for a Canadian winter family.
(My husband, however, loves winter, as it allows for him to ride his beloved snowmobile. Actually ride it, instead of just walking around it, looking at it and buffing his precious baby, with a diaper)
As myself and my three kids gather around the picture window of our living room and watch the snow accumulate, C actually says “Awe crap! I hate winter!” I chuckle, because who am I kidding – we were all thinking it!
And in that moment, I make my kids a promise, which I thought would make a great “pie- in-the-sky” dream for someday.
I say, “Guys, if I make $__,___ dollars per month on my blog, I will buy us a winter house in Phoenix.”
B, forever the accountant says, “What about Dad’s job?”
I assure him, “Dad, could take the winters off and that number I stated would cover everything!”
A cheer erupts in our house and a dream is born.
Now time for the transparency:
For many months prior to this, individuals/companies have been contacting me and stating “When you are ready, I would be interested in advertising on your blog.” and I have placed this information into my back pocket.
So, a few days after I created the Phoenix winter dream with my kids, I sit down and set to work. Forehead in my hands, which is always how I do my best thinking, I set to create and scheme and plan. I decide all the avenues and opportunities I could propose to companies and individuals in order to monetize my blog.
I work feverishly, only stopping for smoke breaks, filled with daydreams showing more revenue avenues for the blog.
Four hours later a plan is complete and ready for action. All possible scenarios have been devised and a general revenue plan has been reached. So it becomes time for the add up. I sit with calculator in hand and add up all the avenues and revenues I have created.
And then something happened.
As I pressed the equals sign, and my projected monthly grand total flashed across the tiny screen, my body jolted!
I had it.
The number I stated to my kids days earlier, I had it. In fact, I had it ALL – PLUS an ADDITIONAL $80!
It took me a minute to realize what that meant, that we could have it. Plus we could have MORE than that. This monetization plan I created wasn’t spectacular. In truth, it was incredibly basic. Nothing mind blowing or difficult to obtain, if I can be brutally honest.
I’m not saying it wasn’t spectacular so you can tell me it was, instead I’m saying it wasn’t spectacular because, to me, it was just basic common sense ad placement and revenue opportunities.
Nothing a standard business person wouldn’t figure out too.
In fact, the monetization plan made so much damn sense, that I knew it would actually work!
So, I reacted the way I always do. I gathered the white scribbled up pieces of paper into a pile.
All the projections, budgets and opportunities were now neatly stacked.
And, being the mature adult that I am, I walked into my sitting room, pulled my blanket over my head and hit the brakes – HARD! I hit the brakes on the blog, I hit the brakes on my dream, on my kids dream of a winter free winter, but most importantly I hit the brakes on me succeeding at something I love and created.
The blanket was so luxuriously safe. So I snuggled under. I pulled the blanket tight around my head and my body to make sure no monsters could get at my feet. And I laid there, telling myself crazy, made up stories about what I actually deserve.
I would tell myself things like:
“Who are you to have that kind of money per month?”
“You will never commit to that. Its impossible and as a result, you will surely disappoint someone!”
And my personal favorite (saracasm noted here)
“That seemed way too easy. You clearly have missed something. If it was that easy, everyone would be doing it. You had to have missed something important”
While the world continued forward, and the days turned to weeks and the weeks to months, I stayed under my blanket. I stayed there so long that my blanket breathe was no longer comfortable. In fact, it was creating an uncomfortable sweat reaction in my body, much like when I was a child in a blanket fort.
Yet I stayed.
I stayed because now my discomfort was my personal punishment for not following my dream. My punishment for hitting the brakes.
I know the laws of attraction. I do. I can recite to you every single energetic requirement to attract money and wealth into your life. And I can manifest a plan or sit in the space of creating a dream with very little effort.
I even can tell you that it’s your birth right to have anything you dream. In fact, I know enough to tell you if you can dream it, it’s already yours, the universe will move everything for you to have it. You just need to decide that you want it and it’s done.
I know, impressive, right!
My hang up is always the self worth. The feeling of deserving to have anything you dream.
Don’t get me wrong, I have worked hard over the past six years to grow. Therefore, I could proudly say, I have a higher self worth than I have ever had!
Even so, sometimes when I’m not looking the lack of self worth sneaks in. It grabs me around the neck, pulls me from under my blanket fort and forces me into submission.
Meanwhile I’m left trying to remember all the training I took in preparation for this moment. Much like a shocked mall cop, when he deals with his first aggressive shoplifter, and therefore gets to use his handcuffs for the first time.
Because, still, sometimes even with all the knowledge I have, self worth, takes me down. Drops me to my knees. Cuts my breathe and stands over me, staring at me. Snarling at me. Hating me. And making me hate myself.
In the beginning of one of these episodes, I play nice with my self worth abductor, by telling myself it hurts less if I just go along with it. I also say things like, it’s probably for the best this way because that dream would never work.
Slowly though, as the hours tick by, I grow to hate my ugly, angry captor. So I pray to whomever is listening. The Universe. Creator. God. The title is irrelevant, yet the job is the same for all of them. “Help me get the fuck out of here!”
Suddenly I hear a ring tone. It’s a ring tone, that fittingly is entitled, circles. A ring tone that signifies help. It signifies strength and assurance. Acceptance and love.
I fumble around the darkest, recessed corners of my prison cell, proding and searching for the cell phone that has miraculously found its way to my silent hell.
I furiously pound my fingers on the screen, until the message comes to life. It’s my coach, Jodie, with these words:
“Everyone gets scared. Everyone hits the brakes sometimes. It’s those who decide to come back to the table that are the truest winners!”
I stuff the cell phone in my pocket, lean against the cold wall of my cell, and devise a plan. A plan of escape. For weeks, I watch the landscape and the patterns, and like a hunter preparing for a kill, I sit silently and patiently, until my opportunity for freedom presents itself.
I eat intuitively, take care of my body, get rest, move and shake and raise my vibration to a place that I know is my normal. And each night as that bastard self worth checks in on me, I nod and smile. A fake smile, but it doesn’t seem to notice.
And the day arrives. It’s time. That morning, as self worth does it rounds and ensures I am still under the spell. To ensure I’m still it’s prisoner, I lurch forward. I push hard against the door, as self worth tries to slam it in my face.
I am stronger because of all the things I have done to take care of me and I am able to push Self Worth to the ground. There is a million things I want to say to it, like to never, ever find me again, but I know my window of escape is limited, so instead I leap over it, run up the rickety stairs and to the front door.
I fling it wide open and run down the sidewalk. The sunlight hurts my eyes, but still I run as hard and as fast as my legs will carry me. My breathe is pulling in deep chugs from my lungs. The air rushes my face and tears escape my eyes, I’m terrified, but, damn it, I’m free.
The escape has happened so fast, that I can’t help, but check over my shoulder periodically. But it appears my captor is either not as crafty as I gave it credit, or it doesn’t care that I’m gone!
With shaky knees, like that of a baby fawn, I return back. Back to my self, back to my kids, back to my house, back to my blog and back to my dream.
With sweaty hands and a rapid heart, I compose a blog post apology. Because isn’t that what victims do, always apologize first.
As I hit post, I say a silent prayer that my followers will understand.
I also send love to anyone who has been taken down and locked away from the captor that is self worth.
I’m back at the table! And it’s a huge honor to be back here. I may not feel like a winner, but I’m gonna try my hardest to be one!
Now, if you will excuse me, I am off to retrieve the white, scribbled papers from the pile in which they were stacked months earlier. I think they deserve a review.
The holidays are a time to spend with those you love. With Christmas fast approaching the holidays can be bittersweet for me.
I am incredibly blessed. I have two parents that consists of a father and a step mom. And a set of in laws. A beautiful sister. Plus sister in laws and brother in laws and step sisters and step brothers. Plus a husband and my own kids. And tons of aunts, uncles and cousins. It’s a full family. But a gorgeous one.
Well, I’m not gonna lie, with this size comes some level of crazy. I joke many times and say “We put the Fun in dysfunctional!” But I know I’m blessed to have so many souls who surround me. Especially during the holidays.
Five years ago I lost my mom. My real mom. The mom who gave birth to me.
But I didn’t lose her in death. I lost her emotionally.
Five years ago I had to let my mom go. I had to release her from my life. I had to halt a relationship with her.
The truth is this relationship was never healthy. My mom was an abusive parent. Throughout my childhood she physically assaulted us and emotionally manipulated us and everyone around her.
I know she is unhealthy and needs help. And for many years of my adult life, regardless of my personal health, I set out to save her. To get her to a state of ok. To help her heal.
But as the saying goes, “You can lead a horse to water…”
After many years of personal investment into her well being I had to make a decision.
This decision came down to two parts:
1) Either accept her life that she was creating and stand beside her as she self destructed and blamed everyone except herself.
2) Release her from my world.
I chose to release her.
In truth, the level of her emotional unsettle was affecting me more than anyone knows. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t eat. I sent money. I bought food. I created doctors and council appointments. I delivered her to said appointments.
Hell, I even let her move in with us after she struggled to get on her feet after a suicide attempt.
But despite all my doing, I was losing. Losing myself. Losing my marriage and losing my kids.
I was so damn set on giving her everything that she wanted that I was losing everything I wanted.
Meanwhile, she was fighting it every step of the way. Wanting more money. More time. More resources. Without ever taking personal accountability for self betterment.
One day, after several weeks of dating someone, she suddenly advised me that I didn’t need to bother helping her anymore because she had him now.
That was the day I got crystal clear on how this worked for her and that NONE of that worked for me. And never would.
I tried boundaries for awhile, but could never maintain them when it came to her. I wanted to. But somehow, whenever, she came around I was the 6 year old child wanting for her mama.
So I decide to release her. I have spent years and years working through the trauma and the pain she has caused, both from a child and then as an adult. And for the most part, I have healed.
Although sometimes the reality of my decision resurfaces.
During Christmas I know there is someone missing from my table. There is one person who regardless how she treated me, shares my DNA and is missing.
I would never change my decision. Not only did I make the decision to protect myself. I also made it to protect my marriage and my children.
No one will ever hurt neither of those things — regardless of their connection to my DNA!
And so each holiday season, I silently grieve. For the parent I have lost. For the parent I have had to release. For the parent who was never a parent at all. For the person who she will never be.
Today, I share love with all my friends who have had to make a similar decision of self preservation. I applaud you and hold you high as you stand in your decision.
I sit with you in your silent grief.
During the holiday season, there are many posts for those who have lost family members in death, but today I recognize all of you who have lost someone emotionally.
The grief is similar, but it also comes laced with a form of guilt that can be a burden.
Just please know, today and through out the holidays, you are not alone. And you are not being judged. Regardless of how or why you have made the decision you have made, know that I appreciate your struggle and am so damn proud of you.
No one can understand the choice we have made, until they need to make it. And my goal is never to validate my decisions to anyone, but instead to help others not feel alone.
So, to YOU, who have lost your parent emotionally, know you are not alone. Together, let’s share our grief.