This fall season has brought a major shift in my being, a simultaneous rooting down and shaking up. This bizarre combination of feeling like I have really grounded down into who I am, connected to my worth and my fierceness while also coming up against some life changing realizations that have brought out waves of grief and exposed some very vulnerable, fearful parts of who I am.
I’ve gotten into the habit of pulling a card weekly from the Medicine Woman’s Oracle Deck by Catherine Maillard. This ritual is a moment for me to pause, and connect to the part of me that craves magic and meaning, that is drawn towards flow, towards sensuality, towards trust. Most of my day to day life pulls me into the opposite direction, one of objectivity, of rigidity, of rationale, of productivity. It’s not that these things are inherently bad, but just that I am realizing the importance of balance. The importance of also leaning into the subjective, the difficult-to-explain, the mystical, the enchanting.
The last few weeks have felt really messy and hard for a number of reasons. For one, we really are in the darkest times of the year here in the Northwestern Hemisphere. I feel the lower energy of the darker, cooler days, the pull inwards, every cell in my body craving slowness and sleep, wintering. I’ve also had to have more moles removed and it’s been hard not to think about having to go through a whole other melanoma surgery fiasco.
Most significantly though, in early November, I experienced what I can only describe as an epiphany. A moment of absolute clarity and certainty about my desire to have children with someone I love, to create a being from a place rich with sensuality and love, and to help usher this being into this world. It was a moment that stung, that sank its teeth into my heart and caused it to bleed these big round tears of fear, grief, terror and hope. A sigh of relief, followed by an avalanche of overwhelm.
Since having this realization, I have felt quite ungrounded. It’s like a part of me has been shaken awake and won’t go back to sleep anymore. I’ve begun the steps to undergo ovarian cryopreservation (AKA egg freezing). I feel overwhelmed at the challenge ahead of me of trying to find a poly partner to have children with down the road.
I have really struggled to keep my feet on the ground since then. To not get caught up in the anxieties and fears about it all. To not let terror take over as I take my big beating heart out of my chest and lay it down on the ground, raw, unprotected, vulnerable. Hoping with all my might that it won’t get crushed. That I won’t be left with a broken heart and an open and gaping chest. Resisting the urges to take it all back, to scoop up my heart and bring it back in to the safety of my chest, behind armors and walls, safe from disappointment.
This week, when I pulled a card, I was deep in it. Deep in the fear, the nervous system dysregulation, the anxious thoughts, the worry, the darkness. I hoped for a beacon of light, a card that would bring me hope and fortitude, to pull me out of this darkness, and bring me back to life, back into the light.
But when I pulled the card, I could not help but feel disappointed. I pulled the Oracle Card of Stories.
Stories?! That’s the best medicine you’ve got? I felt let down, because I was so desperate for relief, for an out, a way forward, a way out of this darkness that has inhabited my being for almost two months now. Stories ? ….
But as the week has gone by, and I have reflected on the power of stories, I was reminded of the value of story telling in my life. This is, after all, the whole purpose of this blog.
I started this blog over 5 years ago, at a time in my life when I was riddled with insecurity and uncertainty, when I felt so lost and alone, directionless, overwhelmed. I blogged feverishly for the first 6 months or so, finding so much comfort and empowerment in this process of writing out and sharing my story as it unfolded, something pretty magical happened. Overtime, I slowed down on my blogging, finding it less necessary and intuitive.
But I wonder if the time has come for me to pick up the quill again. To come back to the pages of this blog to find myself, to forge my path and help me through this period of darkness.
In therapy this week, I spoke with my therapist about this dysregulation I have been experiencing over the last weeks, almost 2 months. This internal conflict of needing deep rest and slowness but also feeling this fire inside me, driving me to take action with the egg freezing and dating, feeling almost compulsive and unstoppable. We explored this urgency, initially framing it as a manager part that came from a place of needing to fix, a place of overachieving, of trying to ‘do’ my way out of the discomfort that arises from owning my desire to have children. A part that has been in the driver’s seat for most of my life, and although it has brought me success, it has also historically driven me to burnout and disconnection.
Yet, as we explored this in our conversation and in my body, I sensed something else was present. Eventually I told her about something I described as mama bear energy, as this fierceness, this sense of resilience and strength, of self-assuredness. Despite the chaos that was present, I felt this overwhelming power emanating from deep within me, determined to care for me and get me to where my heart desires. At some point she asked me what I hoped to feel in January. I reflected, and slowly, naming each item one at a time, I spoke of spaciousness, of steadiness, of contentment and of connectedness.
She then reflected back to me, and asked me if I felt that maybe I was transitioning, shapeshifting, going through a metamorphosis of sorts … from maiden… to mother.
Yes, I spoke softly but with conviction. This rang true. And the more I sit with this, the more true it feels.
It feels scary to name it out loud to others and to put it down on metaphorical paper by blogging about it. Mostly because, well, the evident absence of children in my life is not lost on me. Should the transition from Maiden to Mother not require that one becomes an actual mother …
Maybe not. I find so much comfort and resilience in this idea that a part of me is growing into this Mother archetype. It helps to look back to the universal symbolism that surrounds the transition from the Maiden to the Mother archetype, and to know that many cultures around the world have long cherished and supported this transition through different rites and celebrations. If anything, I think that the absence of a cultural symbol of or practice for this transition in the west – apart from actually becoming pregnant and having children – is a disservice to us all. And it can leave those of us on the outside of that experience feeling like we aren’t quite whole, like we don’t quite belong, like there isn’t quite room for us in this society if don’t fit the mold of what a women is to be and do in her reproductive years.
I have wrestled with this question of motherhood for many years, and much more actively in the last two years. At first, I flip flopped back and forth between yes and no, between craving it and hating the idea of it. The more I read and inquired, and explored my beliefs, feelings and desires around it all, the more uncertain I became, until I finally decided to make a cozy nest in the middle of this ambivalence, and call it my home.
But since this epiphany last month, I have been forced to step out of the comfort of this cozy home I created, and admit that, despite the fact that ambivalence remains, I have connected to a powerful truth about this burning desire. And I can smother it no longer.
It demands attention, recognition, validation. It asks me to step out into the unknown. I feel myself stepping out of a phase of my life and into a new one. And this transition is feeling destabilizing, terrifying, empowering and exhilarating all at once.
I realize, though, that I will need allies on this journey. I can’t hope to navigate it all alone, it’s clear to me I will need support, and guidance, and strength, god so much strength.
Maybe the Oracle deck was right in offering me the card of Stories, wise in pointing me back to this healing medicine that I know so well.
I am not sure what lies ahead in this next leg of the journey. I can tell it will be a hard one, filled with moments that will ask me to dig deeper into who I am, moments where I will need to face terror deep in the eyes and remain wide open, trusting it all, despite the fear coursing through my veins. I can also tell it will be a journey filled with growth, with magic, with meaning, connection, love, spaciousness and life.
I hope to come write more often, to come drink from the well of healing that is storytelling. To expand and create more space for the emotions and experiences that will inevitably cross my path. To find steadiness in my path, my story, my truth and my way of doing things. To foster peace and contentment, in the middle of the messiness of it all. And finally, to connect. To connect to you all, to myself, and to this contradictory, sometimes harsh, yet brilliant and magical experience that we call life.
The Stories in my Head 