Rewriting Narratives
Motherhood has been the most emotionally raw and vulnerable experience of my life. Each one of my children has helped me to peel back new layers of myself. They've supported me in healing traumas and limiting beliefs, in rewriting old narratives, and they continue to teach me to surrender and let go. I believe, If we are available to their lessons, our children are here to help us return to the wholeness we already are.
Each child comes with a unique soul contract, they chose us for a reason, and often that means shaking us awake from a state of sleep we didn't even know we were in.
It is hard for me to identify a particularly poignant example or story of how my children have and are helping me to rewrite my inner narratives. I find they do so everyday. They do so unknowingly, in the simplest and most innocent ways; and they do so explosively in ways that sometimes make me feel that I may go mad.
They each began crafting a new perspective within me before they were even born, from within my womb, where they helped me begin to let go of harmful and unrealistic expectations for my body– lies about my body that were written by entities outside of me, false beliefs I adopted from our body shaming culture. The beliefs that I developed from the beauty and fitness industries’ standards that I clung to and punished myself with for years, were diminished the first time I heard a tiny heartbeat from within, the first time my body expanded to bring forth a new life, and the first time I moved the raw energy of life through a part of me that I had once shamed and betrayed. I was changed forever with that beat, with my gorgeous bump, and my body's powerful ability to birth my tiny humans. I began telling a story of beauty and the miraculous nature of my female form. With each pregnancy and birth, I developed greater reverence and respect for what it means to embody a woman's power; and with each postpartum experience, I have learned to take even greater care of my sacred life-giving vessel.
In the early days of motherhood each child has supported me in telling a new tale about rest. This was exceptionally true for my first born, for he took the lead in wearing me down both day and night, so that I could see, so that I could wake up and hear the lies I told myself about how hard I had to push, and how much I had to achieve. My conversion to a stay-at-home mom was a rude awakening to the former 60 hour a week worker bee, who was under the spell of our society's pathracial paradigm of productivity and performance. It was no easy understanding, and it took much time to liberate me from the cultural brainwashing and my persona of perfectionism. It was only from my first born’s teachings in the first three years of his sleepless life that I learned to let go, It was then that I realized that there is no such thing as perfect. It was then he taught me that presence has much more value than production. It was the breakdown of my physical and mental health that brought me to the path of recovery from perfectionism, to a new acceptance of the fact that we are all perfectly imperfect. It was the darkest moments of early motherhood, the ones where I wanted to yell and scream because I just couldn’t get anything “done” that I began to understand that my health is more important than anything on my to-do list. With my first son’s guidance I was able to rewrite my postpartum experience for chapters two and three– my second and third postpartums have been all about restoration and nourishment of my body and soul, and my mantra has become “less is more.”
Each day, each of my children in their own way offers me a chance to revisit my sense of purpose and meaning, and notice the parts of me that have not yet healed. They bring awareness to the lines of my ongoing inner story that need revision, and the ones I thought I had deleted. They do so with the ways they trigger my inner child– with their cries for attention, with their displays of joy and wonder, and their conflicts and big emotions.
My seven year old’s ploys for my attention and praise has allowed me to see my inner child’s unmet needs to be seen and heard, and helped me understand why I used performance and achievement to seek validation of my worth and love my whole life. My son has unknowingly supported me in my continued pursuit of developing true self worth and unconditional love for myself, he has shifted me from seeking validation externally to being able to provide it to myself.
My two year old son's tantrums and the way he says "my do it" remind me of our need to feel capable and in control. On a daily basis he displays our inborn drive to be autonomous and sovereign. His emotional eruptions lend me the ability to rewrite the part of my story that clings too tightly to trying to control everything– the part of me that wants to have a plan because it makes me feel safe. That part of me that became too serious somewhere along the way– the one that has forgotten to be playful, the one that doesn’t know how to go with the flow. I feel this rigidity within me as frustration, irritability, and sometimes rage. My two year old's tantrums are the truest tests of patience and surrender, and each offers me the opportunity to move from reactivity to responsiveness; each is a lesson in emotional regulation and intelligence. Both of my boys at the age of two have invited me to return to moving through the world with a greater sense of wonder and curiosity, they invite me to return to my true playful nature but in order to do so I have had to release the narrative of control. They keep showing me what it means to truly live in the moment, as they are so fully engrossed in whatever it is they are doing; with their invitation, I strive to be so present and joyful.
My 7 month old daughter is the final muse for rewriting my history. I have felt her shifting me further since the very moment of her conception. Helping me find the balance of my masculine and feminine energies and preparing me to heal the generational trauma I carry around the mother-daughter dynamic. She is my final push toward embracing the quieter, nurturing, mothering energy that I denied with all my high achievement standards of the past. In her short time, she has slowed me in ways I didn’t think possible; she has helped me tap into new levels of inspiration and creativity. With her I find greater ease and flow, with her, I shed another layer of my overthinking skin.
My experience has been that my babies have presented me with challenges that have broken me down so I could elevate and blossom into a higher version of myself.
My children have shone a light into the darkest corners of my inner world, and thus illuminated wounds I wasn't able to face because I wasn't aware of the ugly residing within.
My children have held the space for me to discover the unmet needs of my inner child and with that I have healed so much of her guilt, shame, anger, and sadness.
My children have gifted me with the ultimate platform for transformation and growth; and my children have reminded me to be more curious and have renewed my sense of wonderment.
My children are my gurus-- each and every day they are helping me rediscover my true self and understand the real meaning and purpose of life.
What are the lessons your children have offered you?
In what ways do your children offer you a mirror for your healing and growth?
What parts of yourself were born through becoming a mother?
What inner narratives are you working on rewriting?
Mamaste Well,
Rose
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