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These are the moments in between - grief, grace, healing and hope. I don't have it all figured out. But I'm learning to stay, to feel, to grow. This is me, becoming.

  • Aug 2
  • 2 min read

There is a lot to unpack here... get comfortable.


I - like most, I think - didn't know I was wounded. Not in the spiritual sense anyway.


I've gone through a 25 year career knowing I am really good at my job. Hyper-aware. Always ten steps ahead. I'm a problem solver. I'm "the fixer." I anticipate needs. I maneuver chaos like a downhill skier. Pivoting and adjusting repeatedly throughout the day like a pinball bouncing from one issue to another.


I was praised for it. Rewarded for it. Promoted because of it.


Yet this same person is paralyzed with fear about having a conversation with a stranger and has panic attacks about taking the wrong exit off of the highway.


A therapist told me almost 20 years ago that I have something called Anticipation Anxiety. I shrugged, tucked the label into my back pocket, and only pulled it out when I needed to explain away my fear. I never truly asked why it was there.


All these years never understanding that my anxiety was an alarm system going off because I didn't feel safe or in control. Without realizing what was happening, I got very good at controlling my environment. When I couldn't, I learned to stay quiet and I would shrink myself to feel safe, which is all just unhealthy avoidance dressed up as excellence.


I now understand that my anxiety is my internal security system trying to manage my unspoken fears. Where are those fears derived? That's right, my core wound.


We are taught in Human Design that we incarnate into this world with a chosen soul curriculum. This is what we choose to experience, understand and ultimately - hopefully - learn to transform.


Now that I'm aware, I'm doing the work to recode my nervous system. I still have my superpowers, but they are no longer chained to fear.

I'm learning not to shrink - I'm thinking bigger. Feeling deeper.

I'm learning to let go and trust my intuition and the universe. I don't have to constantly prepare for disaster.

I can express my truth - without the fear of feeling judged, rejected or misunderstood.


I'm doing it.

Working on it.

Working on myself to become so that I can overcome.


This blog is literally my healed voice rising from my core wound of suppression.


We don't rise from avoiding pain. We rise when we alchemize it. Healing our wounds, although a very personal journey, has a much greater impact than most could ever realize. When we rise, we help to raise the collective frequency of humanity. That rise? It doesn't stop with us. It trickles down through generations to come.


How amazing is that? What a beautiful legacy.







 
 
  • Jul 30
  • 2 min read

Here I sit. The girl usually riddled in anxiety, always making a plan, always creating a spreadsheet to weigh out pros and cons. I am surrounded in the unknown and learning to navigate it all in peace and surprisingly a little optimism.


My soul is still overflowing with ideas, new thoughts and divine nudges. But my physical life has completely stalled. The path I had etched out with Tony is gone.


Where do I go from here?

Do I stay in NC?

Do I move back to WV?

Do I move back to RI?

What is best for me and my boys?

My need to pivot and move to force things to work is a glowing example of old behavior that is no longer serving me. The girl known as "the fixer" can't fix this - not right now. Recognizing that and accepting that is finally starting to calm the panic.


I can't say it's been easy. That anxiety - the one that used to drive all the planning, spreadsheets and constant searching - it came from an inner wound. A core belief that if I wasn't in control, I wasn't safe. That belief kept me in motion, even when I was exhausted. It convinced me I had to fix it all or else. I would never allow myself to question the drive or the make believe consequences. (We'll get into that more next week.)


For now, I'm learning that it's ok to just be still. The pause is necessary. I need this space. I need this time. I need to prioritize what I've rarely placed first: My inner being. My purpose. This shift is leading to me to become what it is that God intended me to be.


For Him, I will be still. I will heal and become a ripple that helps lift the frequency of this world. My purpose is to let others see that - and to offer hope that they, too, will find the courage to join me.





 
 
  • Jul 26
  • 2 min read

Tony was unapologetically bold. He lived his life out loud - with his IDGAF bravado. Right or wrong, there was never any guessing to how he felt or where you stood. He wasn't a people pleaser. He stayed true to himself.


He wasn't always everyone's cup of tea. As he used to say playfully, and with complete self-awareness - "I ain't for the squeamish."


All of those behaviors that may have put people off, those are a big part of why I was so drawn to him. I didn't really understand it util now, but he reflected back to me everything I wanted to be. Everything I was hiding from.


Tony saw in me what I couldn't. He is the one who started chiseling away at my unhealthy survival mechanisms. He wasn't afraid to call me out or hurt my feelings. He loved me enough to be honest and to push me when needed.


I stopped this morning to think about all of this and a stunning realization landed within my soul. This man lit the match for all that I am experiencing now. This fire that lights the way toward whatever God has intended for me all began with the sparks that Tony cared enough to throw off.

He saw me like no one else ever has.


There will never be a day where it will be okay for my phone not to be blowing up with funny memes, weather reports, or gold prices - whatever he was excited about that day. It will never be okay to not hear his voice, laugh with him, or be able to fall asleep snuggled up in his arms.


I used to think that the pain of losing him would be a heavy chain I'd have to carry around my soul for the rest of my life. What I understand now is that the grief will always be there. How I allow it to resonate within my life is completely up to me.


The pain isn't gone, God knows. But I'm learning that I do have the power and strength to transform how it affects me. I will look at our love, at the legacy he left me and I will use that as fuel to keep this new found fire going. He will fan the flames of every word that I type that helps me or someone else. He will be in every offering that I'm allowed to share that may bring someone else hope or peace.


I will make a conscious effort every day to disassociate him from any suffering or sadness. He is with me as the co-creator of this new life. Changing how I hold his death.... that is the alchemy in me.


We will always have the power to transform dark to light. It will never be easy, but I hope to live as an example that it's possible and so damn worth it.


 
 

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