The girl inside of me who had hopped on a plane taught herself French and joined the Peace Corps was fading fast. I loved that girl, and I was sad to see her go.
It began in the hospital when they laid my baby on my chest; I was so exhausted that the nurse had to help me lift my head to see him bob and climb his way to my breast. It was in that moment I began to disappear.
The years that followed were at the same time glorious, painful, confusing, wonderful, and maddening. Two more children came, the years ticked by, and I changed from a brilliant woman to just another fixture in the room; a lamp whose string was pulled when the light was needed, but eventually, even I forgot was there.
As an exhausted mom, I worked my way down the “checklist” of self-care. Through each pregnancy, I’d backbend my way through the third trimester, eat kale nonstop, and get monthly mani/pedis. Check! I’d lose the baby weight, get the kids into the best school, teach them to read before kindergarten. Done, done, done. I did yoga feverishly, trying to somehow not lose myself, my body, the ability to feel. I just recently found out that most people don’t cry through a mid-morning yoga class.
They say your home is a reflection of how you’re feeling inside, and this couldn’t have been more true. My house was neat and tidy but with shit piled up in the corners everywhere, out of view. If you opened one of my closets, you would have been buried in an avalanche of junk. Like this, my self-care routine was just a window-dressing, a facade that hid what was really happening inside.
This was all because I wanted to be a brilliant mom and to raise amazing, loving, glorious children. I still do. I assumed that raising brilliant humans surely requires 100% of my focus and that means giving something up. Someone had to sacrifice and I chose me.
I raised my hand and bravely stepped forward. I quit my job, I quit graduate school. Eventually, I began dreaming about travel less and less.
I ignored my inner knowing.
That voice inside, tapping me on the shoulder and saying… “Hun, what about you? Your dreams matter.” That brilliant badass woman, the globetrotter who traveled Thailand alone and interned in the US Senate, was still inside, and damn was she yearning to be set free.
It took me almost ten years to realize that when my children were born, it didn’t mean the death of me.
I’m not sure where the narrative came from, that I had to give up my dreams for my children to thrive. Whose truth is that? And why are we fed this lie?
When you don’t listen to your intuition, to that voice whispering in your ear saying, “there’s more,” you begin to die. You get sick, first emotionally than physically. I see it so often with my coaching clients. One day your body says “hell no, not one single minute more.” Then the truth comes spilling out in so many horrible ways — alcohol, divorce, illness — you name it. What’s worse is that it’s often avoidable.
I will let you in on a secret that took me a decade to discover — it’s avoidable if you choose you. If you want to live an amazing, happy, and fulfilled life, that’s what it comes down to. I’ll repeat it. If you are struggling to “have it all,” then start by choosing you. Your children will grow up and leave, dogs live only 15 years, and your spouse may even die. I invite you to stand in front of the mirror naked with your stretch marks shining and your nipples pointing in opposite directions and say
Yes. Hell yes. I choose her.
But “choosing you” doesn’t mean going down the self-care checklist of bubble baths, chardonnay, and yoga.
It means nurturing your independent self and who you were before that chaotic life crept up around you like vines in a garden. It means finding your own ways to be brilliant, to be powerful, to make money, to be educated, to contribute in fulfilling ways outside the house. For me, it was through BodyMind Coaching that I learned how to choose myself. I came to realize you don’t need to dim your light for any man, child, in-law, or moms’ group. In fact, the brighter you shine, the more it illuminates those around you.
I now know that my dreams are more important than ever — I matter more than ever. I have three boys watching my every move, and I’m setting an example for their own lives, for their relationships. I’m teaching them to follow their inner knowing, their truth. We can co-exist, their lives and my dreams. It’s okay if they’re not one and the same. In fact, let’s celebrate it.
Fifteen years ago, before kids, a husband or a mortgage, I took off on a plane to West Africa, where I would live and work for several years in the US Peace Corps. I sat in the airplane seat, terrified. I put my head on the back of the seat, held back nausea, and let the tears flow as the plane took off. But I was not terrified of the terrain, the poverty, or the people I would meet — I was afraid of the silence. I was scared to be alone with my own thoughts, to truly get to know myself.
And today…
I’m still often afraid.
I’m scared of each new revelation I’ll find when I look deep within myself. I also fear never stepping into my full potential, never showing my kids what’s possible. I fear I’ll revert to my old ways, the way I was before BodyMind Coaching became such a huge part of my life, when self-care was just a glass of wine, a girls’ weekend away, or a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. All lovely but all just a band-aid.
I want to deliver a new message to moms as that first baby comes screaming out into the world. I want you to write your dreams in black ink and submit them to the universe. Hell, write them on the whiteboard in the delivery room. Tell your spouse about them, share them with your kids, and create a life that puts these dreams front and center. Choose you, it’s the only way.
Today, I teach women entrepreneurs how to listen to themselves and rediscover their gifts, to rekindle the light that may have grown dim. I urge them not to give up what they love but instead better understand why they love it. When you work from this space, from a space of authenticity and joy, success is inevitable and money flows.
They often say, “I wish I’d found you sooner…” and I always agree.
