I’m seeing a lot of posts from young mothers who are going a bit crazy during these days of quarantine. I hear your stress and doubts and feelings that you’re not doing it right. I hear your worries that somehow you’re failing as a mother if your days aren’t filled with wholesome activities and learning experiences.
I will try and put this in simple language; what a load of crap.
Nobody has lived through anything like this before, so there’s no ‘right’ way to do it. Whatever way you’re doing it that gets you through the day and keeps your kids alive, that’s the right way.
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As I lay on the acupuncture table, needles sticking from several points in my body, I began to weep, because the insertion was painful. I believed in the healing powers of acupuncture, but I felt something deep within me ask if every desire to be healed, whole and at peace must involve pain.
Acupuncture is something I believe in; and in normal circumstances it is not painful. I had experienced it before and no pain was involved. But for some reason, this particular time it had involved a lot of pain, and I took it willingly, as I have always done with pain when it held the promise that I might finally find the elusive inner peace I’d been searching for all of my life.
But lying there on that table something in me snapped. It was as if my whole body said, ‘Enough!’ I have spent the better part of my adult life seeking answers to ease the pain in my body and soul, and I was willing to go to any lengths to find it. None of these avenues were necessarily bad, and many were beneficial. But it had been dawning on me in the past year that maybe all of this seeking and searching and willingness to inflict pain on myself was actually the root of the problem.
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