Truth

My faith journey... short version

Eighteen and a half years ago, I was laying in a twin bed in the old playroom in my parent’s basement after I’d come home pregnant at the end of my first semester of college. I watched my belly grow and I attuned to the little being inside of me. She was a powerful soul. And while I was laying there, a voice told me to name her Anna Faith.


I argued with god that day. I would NOT be naming this child Faith. I had adamantly rejected my father’s Methodist Christian religion, and I’d yet to discover the difference between that religion and spirituality. And yet, my child would be adopted. I wouldn’t raise her. I had chosen her parents, but I wouldn’t raise my first born child (for many reasons I’ll explore and write elsewhere.) If you are going to hand over your beautiful and powerful little baby to a big ol’ world, you need to have some faith.


I made a pact with whatever god was showing up for me then, the one I didn’t have a name for but all of a sudden I could feel. I trusted the process with a wisdom beyond my 18 years. I knew, absolutely knew, that she would be okay. Indeed, as a college freshman now herself, she’s amazing.


About two years ago, I realized that after her birth, I didn’t maintain that same faith, I didn’t know how to rediscover or access it. After her birth, I had tried hard, incessantly, to get it right, and striving took the place of faith. I thought I had to make everything happen.


This past week, I reached a point in my life where something had to give. In so many ways, I’ve had certain patterns of striving for eighteen and a half years that I’ve been healing consciously for a long time, but here I was staring the worst and deepest of them in the face. I got the hell out of town. And I went to my daughter’s father’s land in Pennsylvania.


Too much happened to detail here. I start a book writing program in two weeks, and I’m pretty sure what I experienced last week was the closing chapter of the book I’ll write on what it’s been like to be a birthmother, how the beliefs that I was not enough (to be her mother, but then everything thereafter) penetrated and affected the last two decades of my life. Things are different now.


As if an act of god, this beautiful young woman who is my biological daughter sent me an album to listen to the day before I hit the road. This was unusual. I listened to the album, and it is absolutely spiritual, the whole way through. I didn’t know that she had any spiritual practices. But the album was the soundtrack on my quest, more important than I even realized it would be - a journey to reclaim faith wholeheartedly.


Faith is our natural condition, and our fears are induced, perpetuated by a suffering society and the messages we receive. I’ve experienced plenty of miracles, an astounding amount, truthfully. I choose to notice them now. I choose to trust. I choose faith over fear. I choose the mission and to follow the vision. I choose life and to live it fully. I choose to dance, to love, to risk hurt, to smile, to look in your eyes.


My loves, it is my honor to work in the real space of what it means to be authentically, faithfully human. I am here for you, as a coach/healer/guide, on your journey to walk back to your greatest self. Schedule a call with me. Tell me your story. Tell me the journey you are on. I’d love to hear from you, and I’d love to support you.


I am still claiming the whole of my Truth.

A Soul Truth Unfolds

Your Truth does not have to be pretty
Flow sweetly
Or be packaged neatly

Your Truth may spit at first
Stumble
Get stuck on the grit of things still working their way through to grace

Your Truth does not have to be polished
Or perfectly presented
Or pleasing 
Because, woman, you have done the pleasing. 
And in your meekness, 
A meekness you didn't even intend,
In your efforts to not upset, 
To avoid reaction
You know you’ll always find you haven’t claimed all you know to be true about a thing.

Systemic oppression of women’s voices lives in your throat and mine.

And I wish we could say we’ve overcome it 
And goodness knows I’ve been trying
But when My Truth I hold
Proved to be powerful enough this past year
That before I knew it, I had become a threat to three men close to me 
And they had each threatened to sue me to subdue my story, 
I know that we have not.

Two of them wanted full access to my body, 
But they were not okay with me having full access to my story 
For fear that I might share what happened and how they saw themselves there.

A fear of betrayal that projected fear unsafely onto me
Unwarranted
Without justification other than I speak Truth
To cover up their behavior 
They made me the enemy

Men who said they loved me and I believe they did, who knew my child
Who once planned a future with me
Threatened my security

And I don’t know physical abuse
But I know the effect of betrayal and threat of survival as it takes hold of a woman’s body
To allow men trust and access to be seen as the threat 
And then directly oppressed,
I know the silence that comes from such threat
And I know it’s taken me three months to find the courage to break it. 
This time.

Or maybe it was a lifetime. 
Or maybe it was more.

And I know that some women never do break it.
So that’s why I do. 
So that you can give yourself permission to be messy too.

When a woman’s Truth is something others prefer not to hear, and they can’t bear to think of the true things you might say, they seek to control the woman.

I know this because I am a truth teller and so I would be challenged this way. 
I am done with the karma that allowed me to get into situations 
Where my Truth could be subdued 
Never Again.
My Truth, My Body, My Words, My Choice.

But there are more subversive threats of silence, women, 
Some self inflicted
Some from other women

What are yours?

This is not new
This is embedded
And we are breaking cycles now

And don't pretend that if you've allowed yourself to raise your voice
You are somehow living your whole Truth 
We are all walking this still.

Women are walking this disentanglement still.

The default of silence or fear of suppression affects how we even know our own Truth.
How we access it at all
Such that we don’t even know ourselves as well as we could.

As a woman I know how my voice
Lodges in my throat
How my Truth stagnates if I don’t free it
How it has been rarely asked for or respected in this lifetime

I know my father won’t have a relationship with me because I’ve chosen to tell my story.

I know what it is to be a professional and to have the qualifying letters behind my name and still lack the confidence to speak my Truth as I see it in a room of men.
I know the way men can choose not to listen to a woman
Or disconnect wisdom when presented in a woman’s tone.

I know how boys hear male voices differently, regardless of what is being said.

I know what it’s like to assume that all wisdom will fail you 
When the spotlight comes on
To choke on your own self doubt

To watch men with less to say 
Say more and say it clearer and earn more 
And with the confidence handed them with their privilege, 
To wonder what it would be like to unleash my Voice in the same confident way. 
All I have inside me to say.

I imagine that it would be a force powerful enough to shift the tides, 
Women’s voices confident as we rise.

I am a thirty eight year old woman who has quested
My entire life
To lend myself personal permission to live in my own Truth,
And I still know every single one of these things and more to be true. 
The reasons we deny our own Truth.
I still know the fear of pissing someone off. 
Of being perceived as emotional first 
Dismissed entirely
Of sending the imperfect email full of raw request 
And Truth as I see it 
And fearing in my entire being of another of his disconnected, hurtful replies.

Such that I nearly immediately apologize for being messy.

And then I watch that apology and that fear and that inability to speak my Truth and be heard and I think, Oh. 
Oh. 
Oh woman, stop speaking to deaf ears.

Our Truth, Women, does not have to sound pretty. 
It does not have to be pretty.

It can be unclear
Unformed
Winding
Emotional
Exploratory
Raw
Liberating
Sensitive
Messy
Inappropriate
Cutting
Angry

You get to be angry
To tell an angry Truth
And it would not surprise me if you’ve never allowed your rage to speak
Because where could you?
Did you even think to?
We can hold it for you now. With you. Beside you.

Your Truth does not have to be sweet
You have enough reasons that it wouldn’t be.

All the permissions are yours now
You get to have your Truth, know it, claim it, speak it when the time is right. 
YOU DECIDE.

You decide to give yourself the permission
To untame the Truth of yourself
To claim the truth of your body and story
To open your entire being WIDE.

❤️

If you give yourself this permission now, and it feels aligned, I am inviting you to participate in a Women's Truth Activation online circle. We begin 4/4. You will own and gain your Truth here in this safe, powerful, beautiful container. 
Connect with me. You know what to do when it is time to rise.

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The grief at the core of me.

It’s important we allow ourselves to feel our grief.

When I lost my daughter at birth at the age of nineteen, I grieved alone. And in fact, grieving was not talked about. Succeeding was emphasized.



Get up. Do what needs to be done. Make something of yourself.



And this was the formula that I used for over thirteen years, until I consciously realized what I was doing - I was in a perpetual state of striving for proof of “being enough.” A state of inadequacy.



Nothing could fill it, as inadequacy at the core goes, although I kept trying to succeed. I kept trying to get it right in order to prove my enough-ness.



And this core wound that most of us carry, it dies hard. Actually it doesn't die, it transmutes when we face it. And this takes some conscious action indeed. Awareness is just the beginning. Undoing the traumas and the wounding and the automatic patterning is an effort in consciousness. But one worth making, as one takes back their life from the myth of inadequacy.



Last year, as soon as I stepped out to go full time with Embodied Breath, my deep love relationship ended. I had loved this man. I didn’t understand some of the circumstances, and he left in a hurry after I’d experienced the deepest love relationship I’d ever known. I could see some of the karma, some of the Soul reasons why it was happening, but here’s what I realize now - I didn’t grieve.



I did not let myself grieve, because I had just opened a business. So what did I do? I hid my grief, from others especially, and I kept on going. I kept on “doing it.” I kept on toward success and making it happen. I was putting myself “out there!” I was building something! And so I was striving to get things done, and to financially survive, actually, and so I took a “show no weakness” approach. I got to the fall and I realized what I had been doing, because I was tired, and I didn’t feel any different than I had in my career. I was hustling and not fully honoring my own Soul and Soul’s journey, which says, ultimately, that I should live out loud.



So I started a business originally for women, about reclaiming the feminine, and there I was… doing the striving thing. Which is an unhealthy masculine trait, inherently.



It’s the one most women are in.  (Whoa, defenses, it’s true.) I know because I live it and because I deeply observe. When we grow up in a society where our femininity is repressed, systematically, we learn to “act like men.” To get it done. To keep going.



Our entire society is currently built on these premises.



I love the path of the Soul. I love the mystery and the learning and bearing witness to the unfolding. I believe we are here on a Soul path, or I know I am, and that each “thing” that happens is my own Soul mapping it’s way. Sometimes this happens consciously, and most times it’s a damn mystery.



So another man comes into my life. Takes me by storm. Unreal scenario. Cosmic awakening. Difficult to embrace but we do it. We say Yes. We know it’s a Soul Union. We love one another deeply. And then, BOOM. I find myself within one week going from happy assumptions of a future together to an ending so similar to the last relationship that I’m not even as shocked. And I’m the common denominator here, so my Soul is clearly trying to give me some lessons.



What I’m sharing with you is vulnerable, and undone, because we are in it. This man is not connecting with me, sweet man, but we are in it, each in our own ways. Because we each triggered the Core Wound in one another, so far as I can tell.



When we trigger the Core Wound, it’s actually an opportunity. It hurts like hell right now, but I see where our Souls are, and I’m praying for each of our Souls’ evolution.



And so here I am, at the very beginning of 2019, where I did not think I was going to be repeating anything from that rollercoaster of a 2018, and then, BOOM, I am.



I am. Soul love, My King. Relationship identified TO US by the cosmos, one realized and recognized by our Souls before we ever felt anything emotionally. We said the bravest Yes we’ve ever said, and we said it again and again such that when it came to this point (because surely it would if the relationship is THE one - when two souls come together to learn together and grow past the Core Wound) - when it came to this point, and we broke, I never saw him pulling away.



And then he’s gone. Death.



And I’m sitting in my Core Wound of loss, of fearing loss of love, and especially loss of love when I voice my own truth. And something is pulling at me, when I’m telling myself to get up and be resilient and learn the lesson and just bear it, damn it, another harsh fucking lesson. Something is saying… just grieve.



Grieve as you grieve. Fall apart. Feel.



Writhe. Wretch. Die for a minute. Or a week. Or as long as it takes.



Don’t hide, don’t go away, don’t hide the grief, and don’t strive. Don’t force something that is not.



You see, loves, for eighteen years, I’ve been fearing this moment, in every action, in every decision. Loss. Loss of love, loss of love for my own inadequacy, loss of love beyond my control.



I feared it and again, I’ve received it. (See how that works?) I had all the self protections meant to ensure against this, but in the end, those were the very things that helped cause it. Our self protections are what keep us separate.



Such that I helped to trigger these events because of my own fear. (I am a Soul seer, so some of it I see, and again, some will be revealed. Other aspects, I’ll never know. And while it reveals, my job here is to not go to my head, to the story, to the rationale and the “well THAT was the lesson there,” and “Onward in resiliency!”



No. It’s not about that this time. And I’m writing this to model what it is that I am talking about all of us doing - I’m being raw on purpose, I hope that is clear.



I’ve been fearing this loss for eternity.



I know who this man is. It literally felt like parts of myself were in him, like I knew him, Soulknew, like we were made of the same stuff. He felt it too. We knew who we were to one another. So the BOOM, the BOOM is a divine BOOM. And the divine in my Soul is saying, grieve it. Grieve it and know what you know, love him, believe in each of you, but cry hard for as long as your body wants to.



And I’m not covering it up this time. I’m not making myself stand up and get it done. And guess what, this IS the process. This IS the feminine. This IS honoring what is. This IS what I’m offering in Embodied Breath - not the perfection, not the striving. I always say, “We go through.”



This man’s “Yes” turned into his “We don’t go through.”



We signed up for this. Our Core Wound karma, we believe, began with one another. We’ve come for this opportunity. We came for this. And we are in it.


My love, we are. We are going through. We are in the Core. I pray we each honor it for what it is. I love you.



I grieve that you can’t hear me.

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