I have spent the past thirty years fighting to thrive in a world where living with the trauma from my mother’s murder has been a story that haunts me and has kept me small.
The trauma became too great a weight for me to bare the week I turned 34. My mother was murdered when she was only 33 years old. Somewhere in the trauma of losing my mother – I created a story. A story that I would never live beyond 33 years of life myself.
I’m writing this at the ripe old/young age of 35, so I guess that story was wrong. Maybe I need to write a new story…
I’m learning that I’ve told myself a lot of stories. Many of were limiting my access to healing. Some were made up. For example – practice makes perfect or I was born to be “big-boned”. Other stories, like – love thy neighbor and love trumps hate – gave me the illusion of permission to sit back because everything was progressing and moving in the direction of progress in equity and access.
Thankfully, that permission ended with the election of 2016. The greatest gift the election gave me was the gift of getting off my ass. Literally. Starting with the fact that momming doesn’t stop just because your worst nightmare has been elected to represent and run the country. Then extending into working, marching with other grief and anger stricken women, gathering, and even resigning my 14 year career… my ass was up and moving!
Moving is what I do. That’s what fierce healing is. Getting active, diving deeper, seeking clarity.
As a teacher, when I started becoming disenfranchised with public education… I got active in seeking understanding. I earned my Master’s Degree in Curriculum and Instruction and later my Education Specialist Degree in Leadership resulting in my K-12 Principal’s license… not too shabby for a janitor’s daughter.
As a mother, I not only embraced every opportunity to learn about birthing and parenting, my battle with infertility forced me into learning about infertility and assistance in getting and staying pregnant. I thought my struggle with infertility would be the hardest part of momming and learning, but unfortunately it was not.
It was when my three-month-old daughter, my cherub and light of my life – was diagnosed with a genetic disorder. That’s when I learned the hardest part about being a mom – the fear of losing being a mom. Though I am raising a healthy, vibrant little girl, the experience of feeling like I was losing her (and the more than quarterly doctor’s appointment to poke and prod her)- that experience, piled on top of the other haunting trauma stories that I owned, became debilitating.
But in that darkness lies the beauty. Experiencing what we don’t want, helps us to really know who we are.
I am a mama – an empathetic connector who thrives when caring for others.
I am a leader in fierce healing. I heal by pushing in, deepening understanding and transforming energy.
Taking the shit-storm of traumatic energy and transforming it into manure, is a non-negotiable when growing the courageously joyous, connector who fuels my soul – my daughter, my miracle, my cherub.
The next level of my healing journey is to share what I have learned and evolve in the ways in which I connect with and care for others.
If you are reading this, thank you. Thank you just for being you and in reading these words being connected to me, and therefore a contributor to my incredibly beautiful, fierce healing story.
Connect with me to get inspiration and support in writing yours.
With love and energy,