At 33, I am very lucky to say I have only experienced one tragic loss and it happened 9.5 years ago. It seems that with tragedy, there is more compassion, empathy, and support for the survivor's well being, than if a loss is more natural and not tragic. People share tragic stories with me every week and I'm aware of tragedy in the world...sometimes so aware that I can feel the weight of it all at once and need to just be quiet and still so I can feel myself breathing. With a tragic loss, there seems to be different phases of processing. First you process the tragedy...then however long it takes...you move onto the loss part of the experience. It's almost like the tragic part provides a segway into processing what/who you lost.
So, when my grandmother passed away 6.5 months ago...there was nothing tragic about it. She lived a full, long, incredible life for 95 years. She died peacefully in her bed surrounded by people who love her deeply...myself being one of them. Everything about her passing was natural, beautiful and peaceful. I convinced myself that because of these facts, I could also just be at peace with her passing, because it was inevitable and part of life. I found comfort in being able to witness the whole thing because there was no question in my mind or my heart as to whether she was exactly where she needed to be.
November 6 marked 6 months since she left this earth. And I realized that I had never gone more than 6 months in my whole life without seeing her. I havent been able to stop crying since Nov 6. I long for one more hug, and to hear her laugh. I'd give anything to hear her tell me how proud of me she is and how much she loves my kids. I want to hear her tales from her childhood and how much money she paid for a bag of pears 35 years ago when they were on sale. Why am I all of a sudden a total disaster now? Grief. Greif and Ego. I was ignorantly bottling up my sadness around what I lost, because I was trying so hard to focus on what I am grateful for in the 33 years I got to know her. In some ways my ego protected me here from falling apart and not being able to hold space for anyone around me. I felt guilty when sadness crept in, in the early weeks of her passing, because there was nothing tragic about her death. I was focusing so hard on what I gained from our relationship, and didn't let in the thoughts of loss, for fear of never being able to stop crying. But here I am: crying all the time. My ego has ultimately lost the battle of inevitable emotions needing to release. She had a time and place to protect me from the true rawness of the first few months, and now she needs to rest so I can just cry.
Not everyone gets to have their grandmother as their soul mate...but I did. This woman saw me take my very first breaths, and I laid with her as she took her last. To me, there is nothing more profoud in life than this very thing. I will forever be grateful for her because I literally wouldn't be who I am without her in my life. She taught me things only she could teach me, and she loved me in a way only she could. She was the most special person I will ever know, and now I just miss her so much my whole body aches for her hug. I know the intensity of this missing her won't last forever...but right now it feels fresh and vulnerable and painful.
I didn't expect to be so blindsided by grief, but here I am. I haven't been able to put a finger quite on why I havent felt totally myself since May 6, 2019 and I don't know why it took me 6 months to connect the dots but there you have it. I'm overwhelmed with sadness, and just letting it pass through. It comes in waves, and waves always ebb and flow. I'm learning that just because there isn't a tragedy connected to a loss, it doesn't make the loss any less painful or difficult to deal with. I'm notorious for being hard on myself and expecting way more than is fair...and this is my challenge now: to be kind, compassionate and empathic to my feelings. To let them be valid, raw and as they are; with the intuitive knowledge that they will pass as they always do.
I cry in happiness for what I had with my Mem. I cry in sadness for what I miss. I cry in gratitude that she had a beautiful relationship with my own children. I cry in sheer ecstacy that I was able to lay with her as she left her body. I cry in joy for her love. I cry in celebration and mourning for her beautiful life.
No one talks about this stuff. Let's talk about it and be ok with tears. They are sacred waters of emotion, humanity and beauty when we let them out.
In Gratitude, and all of the feelings,
Sarah
Friday, November 22, 2019
Sunday, November 17, 2019
On Motherhood and Vulnerability
The deeper I dive into motherhood and coparenting, the more I realize how much I don't know, and how much no one ever told me. This shit is HARD. It's the hardest job I have ever had, which means it's arguably the most important one. It's what brings out my best side, and therefore my worst side as well. It's what allows me to feel the deepest connection to God and to myself, while (sometimes simultaneously) also feeling so disconnected from who I am and what to do, that I often question my ability to raise solid human beings.
Part of being human is our expansive ability to experience such a vast array of emotions. Motherhood for me, has provided the opportunity to experience many conflicting emotions, often simultaneously. I never thought that I would be able to have feelings of the deepest most beautiful love, as well as the deepest most ugly resentment. But the closer I examine this, the more it makes sense.
We grow these humans with our bodies, and then keep them alive with our bodies for at least 6 months. Of course there is the deepest of deep emotional ties to our children. They give us infinite opportunities to learn more about ouselves, and to be better humans. But that's hard work. No one tells you how hard it is, until you've lost your sense of self, being all consumed by the needs of these tiny people...and so while you unconditionally love this little person, you also resent them for making you look so closely and so often in the mirror.
What I remind myself of is this: if we didn't have the feelings of disappointment, anger, resentment, frustration....then we likely wouldn't have the feelings of euphoria, bliss, unconditional love, connection. If we didn't care what happened to these little people, then we wouldnt feel any of the above listed emotions. The deeper we love, the more we feel. To me, this sums up so much of parenting. When I feel tunnel visioned and overwhelmed and like I might not make it through the day, I allow myself a few moments to feel those things, then try and remind myself that I'm feeling these things because of how much I care.
Being a parent means being vulnerable: ALL THE TIME. It means admitting you are wrong: often. It means holding space for others to grow. It means letting go, not only of your expections but also of your attachments to those expectations. It's a constant practice in the deepest kind of vulnerability there is, which means it takes CONSTANT courage. Brene Brown talks about how she as a researcher has studied this before, and she can measure how brave you are by how vulnerable you are willing to be.
I often talk about how I struggle with parenting. Part of why I do this so openly and so intensely, is because I TRUST I am not the only person to feel this way. My crass recounts of how stressful our days are when my kids are being total monsters, (75-80% of the time), is my way of trying to normalize the challenging parts of parenting. It's so easy to get sucked into the world of social media where people only post cute pics and stories of their kids...guess what? I do that too but I also try and remain realistic here: SOMETIMES MY KIDS ARE ASSHOLES AND I WANT TO RUN AWAY. If I lie about this, then I'm putting up walls and not allowing myself to share my vulnerability with others, which is isolating and not real life.
I make a CHOICE every day, and sometimes multiples times a day, to show up as best as I can for my family. Some days I slay it. Some days I barely make it by. Some days I scream more than I thought I ever would. Some days I just have it all together. All days, I choose to be vulnerable, because if I'm not, then I'm not available.
I'm tired. I'm so drained by the end of each day. After countless "1..2..3's..." and negotiations to get my kids to do what needs to be done so we get to where we need to be. Exhausted by literally teaching them how to be functioning humans in this world. My biggest fear as a mother is that I will somehow not teach my kids the coping skills they need to get by in this insanely fast moving, overwhelming world. I struggle every day with this fear, and I'm certain it effects my parenting, but I'm not entirely sure what to do about it. Once again, I return to vulnerability. If I don't know what the hell I'm doing, then other people must not know either.
Parents; mothers; fathers; caregivers: I see you. I see you so clearly. I don't know what I'm doing. I know I love my kids. And sometimes I kind of hate them. I know I ALWAYS love them, and I often hate parenting. It's confusing...it's unnerving...it's life. I need to breathe more...and I need to be seen and supported. I have no problems asking for help these days...and I hope you don't hesistate to ask me, because I SEE YOU and I will always do what I can to make things softer.
Thank you to those of you who do make this ride a little more light hearted...or at the very least, validated. There is no better form of support (for me) to know that I'm not in fact crazy...I'm not in fact making up how hard this is. Thank you to my own mother and father and all the mothers and fathers before me. I need to remind myself of your strength each day, to believe that I can do this.
In Gratitude,
Sarah
Part of being human is our expansive ability to experience such a vast array of emotions. Motherhood for me, has provided the opportunity to experience many conflicting emotions, often simultaneously. I never thought that I would be able to have feelings of the deepest most beautiful love, as well as the deepest most ugly resentment. But the closer I examine this, the more it makes sense.
We grow these humans with our bodies, and then keep them alive with our bodies for at least 6 months. Of course there is the deepest of deep emotional ties to our children. They give us infinite opportunities to learn more about ouselves, and to be better humans. But that's hard work. No one tells you how hard it is, until you've lost your sense of self, being all consumed by the needs of these tiny people...and so while you unconditionally love this little person, you also resent them for making you look so closely and so often in the mirror.
What I remind myself of is this: if we didn't have the feelings of disappointment, anger, resentment, frustration....then we likely wouldn't have the feelings of euphoria, bliss, unconditional love, connection. If we didn't care what happened to these little people, then we wouldnt feel any of the above listed emotions. The deeper we love, the more we feel. To me, this sums up so much of parenting. When I feel tunnel visioned and overwhelmed and like I might not make it through the day, I allow myself a few moments to feel those things, then try and remind myself that I'm feeling these things because of how much I care.
Being a parent means being vulnerable: ALL THE TIME. It means admitting you are wrong: often. It means holding space for others to grow. It means letting go, not only of your expections but also of your attachments to those expectations. It's a constant practice in the deepest kind of vulnerability there is, which means it takes CONSTANT courage. Brene Brown talks about how she as a researcher has studied this before, and she can measure how brave you are by how vulnerable you are willing to be.
I often talk about how I struggle with parenting. Part of why I do this so openly and so intensely, is because I TRUST I am not the only person to feel this way. My crass recounts of how stressful our days are when my kids are being total monsters, (75-80% of the time), is my way of trying to normalize the challenging parts of parenting. It's so easy to get sucked into the world of social media where people only post cute pics and stories of their kids...guess what? I do that too but I also try and remain realistic here: SOMETIMES MY KIDS ARE ASSHOLES AND I WANT TO RUN AWAY. If I lie about this, then I'm putting up walls and not allowing myself to share my vulnerability with others, which is isolating and not real life.
I make a CHOICE every day, and sometimes multiples times a day, to show up as best as I can for my family. Some days I slay it. Some days I barely make it by. Some days I scream more than I thought I ever would. Some days I just have it all together. All days, I choose to be vulnerable, because if I'm not, then I'm not available.
I'm tired. I'm so drained by the end of each day. After countless "1..2..3's..." and negotiations to get my kids to do what needs to be done so we get to where we need to be. Exhausted by literally teaching them how to be functioning humans in this world. My biggest fear as a mother is that I will somehow not teach my kids the coping skills they need to get by in this insanely fast moving, overwhelming world. I struggle every day with this fear, and I'm certain it effects my parenting, but I'm not entirely sure what to do about it. Once again, I return to vulnerability. If I don't know what the hell I'm doing, then other people must not know either.
Parents; mothers; fathers; caregivers: I see you. I see you so clearly. I don't know what I'm doing. I know I love my kids. And sometimes I kind of hate them. I know I ALWAYS love them, and I often hate parenting. It's confusing...it's unnerving...it's life. I need to breathe more...and I need to be seen and supported. I have no problems asking for help these days...and I hope you don't hesistate to ask me, because I SEE YOU and I will always do what I can to make things softer.
Thank you to those of you who do make this ride a little more light hearted...or at the very least, validated. There is no better form of support (for me) to know that I'm not in fact crazy...I'm not in fact making up how hard this is. Thank you to my own mother and father and all the mothers and fathers before me. I need to remind myself of your strength each day, to believe that I can do this.
In Gratitude,
Sarah
Tuesday, April 9, 2019
Being Oh So Human...
It's April: my birth month on so many levels. I was literally brought earthside by my amazing mother in April, almost 33 years ago now (thanks mom for the final push!)...but I also took my first yoga class in April, 16 years ago and that was a rebirth in and of itself (thanks Dad, for the strong suggestion). Each year that April arrives, I feel a deep sense of reflection about my growth, and the direction I am heading in. I still remember like it was yesterday, walking out of my first ever yoga class feeling more grounded than I had ever felt and thinking "I'm going to teach that someday and do my best to offer this feeling to others as much as possible." I like to think that I'm doing a pretty good job of that now...and I'm still loving every minute of it.
This time LAST year, I wanted to do anything but reflect. Last April-May were some of the darkest months I have personally ever experienced within myself. I was so deep in the throws of postpartum depression and such intense anxiety, I couldn't see clearly at all. I was questioning all of my life decisions that had gotten me to the point in life I was, and it was the most ungrounded and scared I had ever felt. I had this mental image of myself floating above my life and looking in, thinking "why am I so unhappy and miserable? My life looks wonderful." I'm grateful for this experience because it reminds me to do the same for every person I meet or come across now. We don't know what's going on in people's minds or behind closed doors...so when we meet them we have to remember that they are JUST HUMAN. An [integral] part of being human is all the mental thought traffic that we can't seem to escape including all of the expectations we put on ourselves due to false beliefs of how we think we're supposed to be, act, look etc. We are all struggling and suffering to different degrees...and now I see that it's ok for that to be the case.
I firmly believe that if we are never uncomfortable, or experience some real shit, then we never really have the opportunity to grow, evolve, and break open into a clearer state of being. Growing sucks. I've said since I was quite little, that growing up is painful. I'm still growing up, and growing in, and growing out...and it still hurts. But it's getting a little more exciting and slightly easier because with some experience now, I can remember that it's temporary and the painful part is only a conduit to the beauty and light that we get closer to when we let go.
This time last year, I wasn't sure that I was going to make it through the day, let alone the month or even the year. I doubted my ability to carry on, to move forward in any capacity; I doubted my ability to mother 2 children, and be a supportive partner. I felt more human that I had ever felt, and it was horrible. It was also the MOST I have grown in a short span of time.
I asked for help from professionals. I was reassured that my experience was normal, be it hard and sucky, normal and ok. I didn't believe anyone: until I started sharing my experience and then felt much more validated and supported by other women who have had such intense postpartum experiences that bled over into all aspects of life. I learned that asking for help and exposing your vulnerabilities is what makes you the most human of all because it not only connects you to others, but it gives you the opportunity to connect so deeply to your own humanity that you inevitably will be a better person and teacher and role model for being so honest and real.
This April, I'm celebrating. I have weaned entirely off my anxiety medication and I feel so much more deeply connected to myself, to my children, to my husband and my peers. I am so grateful to have had the courage to ask for help, receive the help, and now let it go. It was a necessary aid in the last year of my life...and now I don't need that one particular aid...I feel like a fog has lifted from my heart, my eyes and my thoughts. I'm so proud of myself for all the crap I have dealt with as a woman, as a mother, as a wife...and I'm so proud of my friends and family for sticking by me, holding me up and supporting me more than I ever thought I deserved. You all helped me see how worthy of love I am, and that is the greatest gift.
Thank you family. Thank you friends. Thank you yogis who showed up every week to give me a purpose when I didn't think I had one. Thank you mamas who trusted me to support you in your most vulnerable time of life: I have never felt so honored to do the work I get to do. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart...this life takes a village and I'm infinitely grateful for mine and all of you.
In gratitude,
Sarah
This time LAST year, I wanted to do anything but reflect. Last April-May were some of the darkest months I have personally ever experienced within myself. I was so deep in the throws of postpartum depression and such intense anxiety, I couldn't see clearly at all. I was questioning all of my life decisions that had gotten me to the point in life I was, and it was the most ungrounded and scared I had ever felt. I had this mental image of myself floating above my life and looking in, thinking "why am I so unhappy and miserable? My life looks wonderful." I'm grateful for this experience because it reminds me to do the same for every person I meet or come across now. We don't know what's going on in people's minds or behind closed doors...so when we meet them we have to remember that they are JUST HUMAN. An [integral] part of being human is all the mental thought traffic that we can't seem to escape including all of the expectations we put on ourselves due to false beliefs of how we think we're supposed to be, act, look etc. We are all struggling and suffering to different degrees...and now I see that it's ok for that to be the case.
I firmly believe that if we are never uncomfortable, or experience some real shit, then we never really have the opportunity to grow, evolve, and break open into a clearer state of being. Growing sucks. I've said since I was quite little, that growing up is painful. I'm still growing up, and growing in, and growing out...and it still hurts. But it's getting a little more exciting and slightly easier because with some experience now, I can remember that it's temporary and the painful part is only a conduit to the beauty and light that we get closer to when we let go.
This time last year, I wasn't sure that I was going to make it through the day, let alone the month or even the year. I doubted my ability to carry on, to move forward in any capacity; I doubted my ability to mother 2 children, and be a supportive partner. I felt more human that I had ever felt, and it was horrible. It was also the MOST I have grown in a short span of time.
I asked for help from professionals. I was reassured that my experience was normal, be it hard and sucky, normal and ok. I didn't believe anyone: until I started sharing my experience and then felt much more validated and supported by other women who have had such intense postpartum experiences that bled over into all aspects of life. I learned that asking for help and exposing your vulnerabilities is what makes you the most human of all because it not only connects you to others, but it gives you the opportunity to connect so deeply to your own humanity that you inevitably will be a better person and teacher and role model for being so honest and real.
This April, I'm celebrating. I have weaned entirely off my anxiety medication and I feel so much more deeply connected to myself, to my children, to my husband and my peers. I am so grateful to have had the courage to ask for help, receive the help, and now let it go. It was a necessary aid in the last year of my life...and now I don't need that one particular aid...I feel like a fog has lifted from my heart, my eyes and my thoughts. I'm so proud of myself for all the crap I have dealt with as a woman, as a mother, as a wife...and I'm so proud of my friends and family for sticking by me, holding me up and supporting me more than I ever thought I deserved. You all helped me see how worthy of love I am, and that is the greatest gift.
Thank you family. Thank you friends. Thank you yogis who showed up every week to give me a purpose when I didn't think I had one. Thank you mamas who trusted me to support you in your most vulnerable time of life: I have never felt so honored to do the work I get to do. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart...this life takes a village and I'm infinitely grateful for mine and all of you.
In gratitude,
Sarah
Wednesday, January 2, 2019
The Mothering Yogi
At least once a day, every day, I say something to the effect of "if I didn't have my yoga practice, I'd probably be in jail." This is kind of funny, but it's also kind of true. I often praise my 15 years of dedication to this practice as my saving grace in being a mom, as well as a partner. Being a mom is the most rewarding, heart bursting, eye opening and above all, challenging job I have ever had. Having children is both incredible, and infuriating, and allows for the entire spectrum of human emotion to kick into full gear, sometimes within just a few minutes. My children are a mirror to my soul, and my Self, and that's often not a pleasant thing to face...but wow it's a noble one. My yoga practice has given me the capacity to see my children as my littlest-biggest teachers, which i recognize is not always easy, but it is always a chance to learn and a chance to get deeply grounded.
At this stage in my life, I typically only make it to my mat for a personal physical practice about once a week. However, I teach 8x a week and each class is an opportunity to help people become a little closer to themselves and realize that they have everything they need, already within them. When I have the opportunity to do this, it reminds me of this same truth. Teaching this practice in a way that can be applied to life outside of the studio, has always been an intention of mine, because I use the teachings of this practice, all day long. Practicing mindfulness in movement, eating, how much time is spent on the phone/technology etc. Practicing non-attachment to how events will play out...and non-attachment to nap schedules, or tantrums, etc.
Before becoming a mother, I was already intuitive about my needs. Now I'm intuitive of my needs as well as two other humans needs, and sometimes that can be overwhelming. Actually, most of the time it's overwhelming. So sitting with the wisdom, and the jitters of meeting everyone's needs and letting things settle a bit, is the only way anything gets done. It's VERY easy to NOT sit, and just KEEP GOING...but if I don't take 5 minutes to just sit and breathe...nothing gets done. I learned this in yoga, and it's carried me through every day of motherhood. I am often tasked with holding conflicting emotions simultaneously such as, feeling like my children are my main reason for existing, but also needing some space from them. It can be so intense at times, that if I didn't have my yoga practice to help regulate my emotions through breathing and pausing, I honestly don't know what I would do.
As one of my most beloved teachers just said recently in a class I got to take with her: (paraphrased) your life will not improve just because you can fold all the way in half in a particular shape. The pose/shape itself is irrelevant. The shape is just a vehicle to connect more deeply to your consciousness and process of finding whatever variation of the shape is accessible to you in the moment. It's another way to practice true presence: meeting yourself where you are at moment to moment. If I didn't have this practice for myself, there is no way I could apply that to two other tiny people as well.
Children are a beautifully infuritating illustration of how fickle our minds can be with no filter. One moment my son will be cold, and the next he'll be mad he is wearing a sweatshirt so he'll take it off, but then cry about being cold. There have been many days where my daughter wants to simultaneously walk, while also being held in my arms. As humans, have SO many emotions and without the skills or mental capacity to process and organize and let go of thoughts, it's like a constant stream of overwhelming information being spewed in our face. That's what it's like to be a kid.n . My practice has given me the space to understand this, and as often as I can, apply it to my every moment of every day with my kids. I'm 100% NOT sitting here telling you that I am able to embody this all the time. IM JUST A HUMAN. I have my own tantrums and reactions and moments to all of this intensity...and that's why I keep coming back to my mat. Or jumping in the pool, or hopping on the treadmill. I move my body, to get out of my head, create some physical distance for a couple hours every day...so I can remember how hard it is to be human. When I remember how hard it is, I have so much more compassion for myself and my children.
That's what it's all about right? Cultivating as much compassion as we can...rather CONNECTING to the compassion that is already within us, and bringing it to the surface to share with all beings. To embody, to breathe, and to offer. My kids are my yoga...and my asana practice is just another vehicle to remind myself of this truth.
At this stage in my life, I typically only make it to my mat for a personal physical practice about once a week. However, I teach 8x a week and each class is an opportunity to help people become a little closer to themselves and realize that they have everything they need, already within them. When I have the opportunity to do this, it reminds me of this same truth. Teaching this practice in a way that can be applied to life outside of the studio, has always been an intention of mine, because I use the teachings of this practice, all day long. Practicing mindfulness in movement, eating, how much time is spent on the phone/technology etc. Practicing non-attachment to how events will play out...and non-attachment to nap schedules, or tantrums, etc.
Before becoming a mother, I was already intuitive about my needs. Now I'm intuitive of my needs as well as two other humans needs, and sometimes that can be overwhelming. Actually, most of the time it's overwhelming. So sitting with the wisdom, and the jitters of meeting everyone's needs and letting things settle a bit, is the only way anything gets done. It's VERY easy to NOT sit, and just KEEP GOING...but if I don't take 5 minutes to just sit and breathe...nothing gets done. I learned this in yoga, and it's carried me through every day of motherhood. I am often tasked with holding conflicting emotions simultaneously such as, feeling like my children are my main reason for existing, but also needing some space from them. It can be so intense at times, that if I didn't have my yoga practice to help regulate my emotions through breathing and pausing, I honestly don't know what I would do.
As one of my most beloved teachers just said recently in a class I got to take with her: (paraphrased) your life will not improve just because you can fold all the way in half in a particular shape. The pose/shape itself is irrelevant. The shape is just a vehicle to connect more deeply to your consciousness and process of finding whatever variation of the shape is accessible to you in the moment. It's another way to practice true presence: meeting yourself where you are at moment to moment. If I didn't have this practice for myself, there is no way I could apply that to two other tiny people as well.
Children are a beautifully infuritating illustration of how fickle our minds can be with no filter. One moment my son will be cold, and the next he'll be mad he is wearing a sweatshirt so he'll take it off, but then cry about being cold. There have been many days where my daughter wants to simultaneously walk, while also being held in my arms. As humans, have SO many emotions and without the skills or mental capacity to process and organize and let go of thoughts, it's like a constant stream of overwhelming information being spewed in our face. That's what it's like to be a kid.n . My practice has given me the space to understand this, and as often as I can, apply it to my every moment of every day with my kids. I'm 100% NOT sitting here telling you that I am able to embody this all the time. IM JUST A HUMAN. I have my own tantrums and reactions and moments to all of this intensity...and that's why I keep coming back to my mat. Or jumping in the pool, or hopping on the treadmill. I move my body, to get out of my head, create some physical distance for a couple hours every day...so I can remember how hard it is to be human. When I remember how hard it is, I have so much more compassion for myself and my children.
That's what it's all about right? Cultivating as much compassion as we can...rather CONNECTING to the compassion that is already within us, and bringing it to the surface to share with all beings. To embody, to breathe, and to offer. My kids are my yoga...and my asana practice is just another vehicle to remind myself of this truth.
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