Family – Soul Reflection

The Existential Crisis of Man

There is a current theme amongst the men – the husbands and partners of women that I know; it could be labelled as the classic mid-life crisis except its core is so much deeper and more extensive. I have watched the seeds germinate from those early honeymoon years of engagements, weddings and the birth of our children. This is not just a mid-life moment, this is a full on existential crisis of men that is busting out of the seams of society and is about to explode.

I have been observing it for many years now, how it relates to my personal dynamic and listening to the words of my circle of women, where, often unbeknownst to each other, they repeat the same elements of frustration and despair. The truth is that a deep chasm of depression seems to be the very crux of the issue, which of course can manifest in a multitude of ways: from lethargy & dormancy thought to explosive rage and simmering anger with everything in between; addiction, disconnection, emotional abuse, gas-lighting, narcolepsy, adrenaline chasing, affairs etc. The list goes on and as much as many of these are painful to be around or on the receiving end of, they are just the symptoms of a masculine struggle so deep that it’s hard for me to imagine how they will claw their way out. For women, it is alienating.

I have a theory, without a solution, but important to name nonetheless. I see the beginning of the separation of compassion between the parties at the point of childbirth. We have lost most of the tangible and cultural rites of passage in our society for both sexes but nature has a handle on that for women. When we give birth, we are initiated into motherhood in a way that defies conscious description. I know my husband would say that I changed dramatically at this point in my life and I completely agree. I had to dig deep to reveal my innate and primate strength, my priorities shifted overnight from self-ish concern to embracing the wider picture of holding, love, nourishing and nurturing beyond my personal boundaries – I was no longer the centre of my world and I never would be again. Childbirth is the most empowering and enlightening experience a woman can have and sadly many women are cheated of this process by the interventions and interference our society has created around it but, despite these inhibiting effects, there is no denying that the physical creation of life pushes women to step into themselves – to know themselves; to find the edges of their endurance and to step up to the emotional, physical and spiritual challenges of motherhood.

Where is this moment for men? Where do they get to experience their innate and primal strength? Where do they find the edges of their endurance? Where is their opportunity to feel like they have stepped into their purpose of existence?

In traditional cultures, without the cosseting of modern conveniences, physical survival and protection is the role of the masculine. Hunting for food in harsh environments; facing life & death decision making; protecting the tribe from invasion; creating a space of safety for the women, children and elders. Here there is purpose, here there is meaning and it is infused with personal challenge, the need to step out of self-ish concern, to see the whole picture of community and family, and to face and experience the portals of endurance. It is no wonder that adrenaline adventure is such a draw for the masculine but they still miss the very essence of purpose and selflessness. Facing death just for yourself will not create the shift into enlightenment that slaying a predator, for food or protection to feed and nourish your family and village, will do.

So here we are left with a swathe of men who witness the birth of their children but are not initiated into fatherhood, who struggle to transition from self-centred priorities to encompassing the family needs; who feel the loss of their devoted partners as they, in turn, devote their energies to the young and vulnerable. Men have no true purpose to fill that void and, by the time their partner has energy again to turn back towards them, so often the resentment on both sides has created a chasm of disconnect. The strains of motherhood without the village threaded through with the disempowered man is a recipe for an emotional maelstrom of epic proportions and one that gets deeper and harder and more painful as it continues its endless swirl. Picking up new resentments in the regular tornado of life add to the power of the storm. Our women are suffering, feeling as if they are carrying the burden of it all – the physiological and psychological stretches of motherhood and a depressed partner to boot, however that manifests. Our men are feeling empty, purposeless and redundant.

So what are the solutions? What I do notice is that the therapies of our modern times can only help so much, more of a band aid than a cure. These rites of passage into adulthood and meaning are created by visceral and profound experiences, cognitively knowing this offers momentary understanding but doesn’t actually create a new reality. I have watched as men seek and search for this unknown feeling – this lack – through adrenalin, through talk therapies, men’s work, psychedelics, wealth acquirement. They all can create temporary easing and patches of identity but they don’t seem to stick. The mind cannot trick the body and the body cannot trick the mind.

So I have no solution. Going out to hunt for deer whilst knowing if you fail you can buy a few steaks at the butcher isn’t going to cut it. However, I have been noticing an uprising amongst men discussing how they do feel purposeful and fulfilled in a modern relationship dynamic and it seems to be by finding a way to fulfil some of these traditional roles. Safety seems to be a huge theme. Women seeking it and men feeling initiated by providing it. This will look different for everyone but discovering what makes your family feel physically and emotionally safe reaps rewards for all parties. Mission and meaning for the masculine, breath and space for the overwhelmed feminine, contained and nurturing boundaries for the children and connection, connection, connection between the couple. Safety allows love to flourish. We all carry our traumas but by stepping outside of how that makes the ‘I’ feel, utilising those difficult experiences and channelling them into the creation of an environment of protection and potential breeds its own kind of purpose.

As a woman, I worked hard to ensure my rites of initiation were not stripped from me by our modern constructs, but equally I am not created to journey solo. I need and want partnership and I know the most fulfilling life is creating that ying and yang together, raising our family as a unit and a team. My compassion reaches out to the men struggling with all of this complexity and, more so, for how it manifests in challenging and often frightening ways, and yet we are not about to step back in time to hunter/gatherer dynamics so it is time to seek a new way to walk fully into manhood; to shed the shackles of shame and malaise and step back into the roles you were born for. Let this existential crisis be your portal – find your edge of endurance and come back home.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Teen-mas

Six months in and I cannot deny the teen era is upon me. I’m actually finding it, mostly, delightful; watching my child expand into the world, explore, grow, stretch and return.

I was the archetypal ‘terrible teen’, lots of deception, no strong parental attachment, peer focused, crashing into adulthood with despair and desperate hope. So there is a part of me that thinks I’ve got this covered, I know what NOT to do. But I don’t want to be naive either, society is influencing powerfully and my children do not have the same impacting factors that I had. So when I saw this book, ‘Untangled’ by Lisa Damour, I thought it would be good for me to have a read.

It is a perfect example of how context is everything. If my values centred around fulfilling the perception of modern society, that high grades, top university and money-pumping careers are the be all and end all of life, then this would be the book to guide my teens through. It shockingly includes a suggestion of bribing your teen to achieve their grades.

There are some solid foundation notes, like having family meals together, knowing who the friends are etc but these are not rocket science and says much about our society when having a family meal together is something to implement for the teens under the assumption that it’s not been happening before. Am I living in an alternate universe?

Are families so disconnected that they need just the basics to bring back some form of connection and communication? Are our children so undervalued that they are being left to flounder through the initiation into adulthood without parental and mentor guidance?

This book made me achingly sad for all of those it is aimed at, parents and teens alike. To be existing together without feeling loved and held and cherished and to be thinking that this is just how life goes, how painful! Damour is doing her best in the context of this world but I wanted something much deeper, richer, more intense. I wanted a call for heart connection, for initiation, for handing down wisdom, learning from the vibrant young, healing ancestral blockages.

The teens is a transition, there is no doubt about that, but in that is the most beautiful opportunity, offered over and over again for years and years. Forget the grades and the careers. Find the passion and the joy and the spirit and the love and the conversation and the connection.

This is the moment your child moves into the blessing of a companion adult. Not too quickly, not until they’re ready. They still need their boundaries and circling, but that is the goal to hold onto. Staying in connection, understanding and love.

First published on social media on 18th December 2022

Tendrils of Abuse

When I was a little girl, before my parents separation and my father leaving home, I would have a repetitive dream. There was a witch living under my bed who had a hole that she would pull me through and force me to be her slave. I would have to cook and clean for her and she would punish me at every opportunity, sometimes that punishment would be sexual. The dream was shameful to me and I never spoke about it but it lived in my being as this disturbing secret.

When I uncovered the memories of my father’s molestation of me, in my mid-twenties, the dream came back to me and suddenly made sense; how my young psyche had been processing what was happening to me in reality, in my dream world.

Having uncovered these events, I emailed my father saying that I had some memories that had been revealed to me and I would like to talk to him about them. I didn’t imply what they would be about and having, in the process of discovering them, also been able to reach forgiveness, my energy was quite clean and open. He didn’t reply but, unbeknownst to me, rang around many members of my family saying I was accusing him of sexual abuse and how crazy I was. None of my family mentioned that to me, it came out months later due to the suicide of my half sister. It was an interesting reaction.

Eventually we spoke and he gave me an implicit confession ‘My mother played with my balls and there’s nothing wrong with that!’ Tendrils of abuse…. From her to him to me….

That was 17 years ago and nearly ten years since he died. And still my family have never spoken to me about it. I know they would prefer to think I am the crazy one, that it didn’t really happen and even if it did, best forgotten.

But as I lay in bed last night, I became observant of my natural sleep position and suddenly realised that I sleep in a formation of protection. Tendrils of abuse. And I came to thinking about all the impacts that experience has made across so many lives.

I know now that some of the childhood fantasy play I created with my friends was a result of this abuse, more ways for my little being to try and make it normal. I know that it hyper sexualised me so that, unconsciously, I attracted wounded male attention, far too young and inappropriately, not least from more of my mother’s partners. I know that it has affected the way I view intimacy with my husband. I know it has made me extra protective of my children. I know that it has made me wiser and more compassionate. I know that the tendrils reach out and affect people in all sorts of ways.

Which is why, after all these years, I feel the need to name it. Secrets like this only hurt. They hurt those who have to hold them; those who’ve been affected by them; those who need to hear their stories aren’t the only ones.

My father was a deeply wounded man, arising from a deeply wounded upbringing and I want to be part of healing those wounds by not holding them shamefully in me. I completely forgive him and my grandmother and whoever came before because they were the traumatised child that couldn’t find their way home. But I also won’t carry their secrets any more.

My experience becomes my strength to carry forward, as I shed the layers and weight of abuse; I am finding my way home.

First published on social media on 27th September 2022

In Their Shoes…

This week I have been told that I am ‘inconsiderate’ and ‘unable to put myself in other people’s shoes’ by a close family member. It is a familiar pattern of criticism but certainly I think it’s important for me to reflect on it and see where my truth lies within it or indeed outside of it.

I know that I could turn to a friend or two who would say the exact opposite and hotly defend me to boot but that’s the way of the world anywhere isn’t it? There are always places where we can validate or oppose our views and beliefs, looking outside is simply seeking confirmation rather than creating a knowing.

So what is the truth within me? Once I would certainly have heard those words and believed them to be true; shamed and chastised myself for not being a good and kind person. Now I see them differently.

There is truth in them but not within me.

There is truth in them for the teller, their perception and beliefs mean that my actions and speech show those values or lack there of. I have not chosen the path that would reflect consideration for their feelings, logically that would indicate my inability to see their point of view, to step into their shoes.

Except of course life is far more nuanced and complicated than that. I have made conscious and thoughtful decisions as to why I will not choose that path that would be ‘considerate’ and indeed in the depths of that decision is, in my view, a consideration far more powerful and important that encompasses their well-being, their freedoms and my love for humanity.

I hope one day those will be seen but I recognise that it may also never happen. That I have to hold being judged whilst living my path with faith in my own integrity and also a humbleness to be able to accept that there is every possibility I could also one day be shown wrong in my perception.

Meanwhile I stand in my truth, which is to protect the freedoms of mind, body and soul for all of my family and for all of humanity. I do that without grandeur but with the small day to day decisions and choices that can seem so unnecessary, so petty, so inconsiderate without the bigger picture that I have in my eye-line.

So in the end I am grateful for the criticisms, they have forced me to reflect and have helped me clarify even more clearly that I stand by those values in the face of a thousand words of judgements. I will bear the bruising of those words because I know, in this moment, I am making the best and most considerate of decisions.

First published on social media on 24th January 2022

Per Aspera Ad Astra

This is my family crest. Per Aspera ad Astra, Through Hardship to the Stars.

As a child, I saw this ring on the little finger of all of my mother’s family; my grandparents, my many aunts and uncles and of course, my mother. Her’s was worn thin, from the decades of continual wear, and that itself told a story.

So when I turned 21 and was gifted my own, I was filled with a sense of belonging. As with many families, there were and are plentiful woundings and traumas that weave their way through the complexity of relationships and the pathway through my family dynamics is something I have struggled with for many years. So much so, that just before I had my first child, I decided to take my ring off. I no longer liked what it represented in my mind. It felt like an elite club to which I was accepted by blood but not love. A square peg in a round hole.

So this ring has sat in a draw for over a decade, every now and again I might open the box, forgetting what was inside, and then remember. Not once did I feel like putting it on again.

Until last week. Last week I felt a deep heaviness with the state of the world. Sadness that people I once called friends could willingly choose dictates that alienate and separate society; a hit of fear as I registered the huge impact the shedding from vaccinated individuals was making on so many; despair at the ease at which many choose their own comfort over wisdom.

I had a moment of deep vulnerability and quite frankly, sheer panic. And then I remembered that so much of that, if not all, is completely out of my control. I can only bring change in myself and perhaps a reflection of that out into the world.

So I dug into my emotional toolbox, polished off my resilience, took some lung busting deep breaths and called all my angelic protection into play.

And with that came a calling to ask my ancestors to protect us on this rocky road. I was drawn back to my ring, no longer a representation of all that I am not, but a symbol of protection from all those that have gone before me, whose spirits can guide and support. And of course, with the words deeply etched, both within the gold and my heart… it is onwards I go…

Through Hardship to the Stars.

#angels #spirits #ancestors #protection #hardship #stars #family #love #courage

First Written on Social Media 16 May 2021

The Empathy Trap

It is always hard to write a blog where I have to reflect on my mistakes as a parent. My ego screams to keep it silent but my spirit yearns to share and offer it of service to others. A mighty battle within.

My parenting philosophy is deeply embedded with the principle of empathy; of feeling and understanding my children’s perspective, in order that I can help guide them and support them through their journey.

I still think this is deeply important.

Yet I have discovered a trap in this idealised path… something that harms rather than helps my children on their journeys. It has been particularly highlighted by one child whom has a fight reaction tendency when misunderstood. When they have lashed out I have nearly always seen and understood the route to that explosion. I have watched and witnessed the unfolding of communication crashes and mix ups. And so I have helped explain that to others. I have spoken their feelings and shown how and why they have reached melt down. I did this to model to them how to verbalise their frustrations and recognise their own triggers.

And it has worked. They can verbalise and can recognise but they can also excuse themselves. ‘I hit because they annoyed me.’

And I have explained that excuses are not ok, there is no justification for violence unless in defence of life and soul. But they keep coming. These excuses. By fully empathising I have taught that there is some implicit permission in their reaction, I have fed this attitude of vindication.

So I have reflected. I have looked out into the world at the excuses and demands for empathy being thrown out constantly in society; I have looked within at the balance of compassion and discipline triggers from my past and I realise that on this honourable path of affinity I have let resilience slide.

Because resilience is a key tool for life. Resilience is the ability to carry on in the face of all adversity, including that of being misunderstood.

When I look out into the world and see the screams and cries of so many begging to be understood, to be re-labelled, re-defined and then crumbling and collapsing when others don’t want to, don’t have to, don’t like to; there I see a dearth of resilience. It is not for us to demand someone’s understanding, it is for us to know that we are still enough without it.

So now I have some work to do. My children are thankfully young and resilient enough to flow with my mistakes; we learn together. I hope the rest of the world can too.

I’ll Always Worry

Twice this week, I have had comments laid at my feet that somehow my expression of mother concern is ‘too much’.

Now I agree that helicopter / smothering mummy is not a good look, nor indeed a healthy option, but judging a mama for being a mama…. now that’s just insanity.

I am always going to worry if my kids have got the right clothes when the weather changes and I’m not there. I am always going to worry that these fragile dynamics of friendships, as they twist and turn into their own unique beings, are upsetting or hurting them. I am always going to worry whether they are getting the right balance of nutrition as I insist on chicken broth and treat them with ice cream. I am always going to worry about those times when I said ugly words or shouted too loud, that perhaps broke them a little. I am always going to worry if I’m doing the best for my children, holding strong boundaries and gifting freedom of spirit.

It’s my job.

I’m a mama.

So please don’t tell me to relax, or step back or any of those casual utterances that seem to belittle my role. Because more than anything, you don’t see how much I hold my tongue when they tell me about the kid at school who slaps or whispers; how I look at their naked limbs in the icy wind and remind myself that it’s their body; or how much guilt I feel for not knowing what I know now!

You do not see how much I let them go when I ache to hold them tight; that I find ways to help them explore risk and adventure when my heart is beating hard in my throat.

And when I spew my anxieties out it’s in order to clear them from my energy so that I can return to them with calm, thoughtfulness and courage.

I have worried myself into some awesome choices and discoveries as a mother. My worries have pushed me to find the hidden solution, the alternative avenue and the unique path that is creating my family.

But more than anything, these crazy, wonderful beings grew in my tummy (and even if they hadn’t), blew my world and my mind wide open to the glorious intensity of mother love and I am proud to worry about them; excited to have the responsibility of their blossoming souls; and utterly & blissfully surrendered to the knowledge that they will be front and foremost in my mind and heart for the very rest of my days.

I’ll always worry and I make no apologies for that. I have been blessed with this extraordinary job of mother and worrying is just one small and important part of a truly magnificent whole.

Our Natural State

My husband and I are in the very midst of ironing out some of the bumps and grooves that appear in any long term relationship. To add to the fun, we are both in our early forties and hitting that developmental stage (yes, adults have them too!) aka ‘ the midlife crisis’ where all of our childhood wounds pop up with varying stages of intensity, to be faced and dealt with. To top it off, we are just through the very very early years of parenting, which is just one big fog, and now that the kids are at school there is space to face the shit.

It sucks. It’s hard. And mostly it is bloody painful. I think I have cried more in the last 3 weeks than I have in the last 10 years. And with this ironing, unpicking, rebuilding and connecting there have been some sweet and tender times, a second honeymoon of sensitivity and kindness. But mostly it hurts, just like any wounds do. We are digging out the detritus that has been left in over the years, the bits causing sores and infections, cleaning them out and suturing them up.

So whilst I have swung between grief, rage, love, hope, fear and happiness like some sort of rollercoaster on hyper drive, my grounding has been the understanding that our natural state is love.

This is the state we come into the world, pure love.

So when my own or someone else’s behaviour, actions or words appear unloving or hurtful, my faith in humanity and our core state, helps me to understand that these come from a wounding that needs to heal. That our natural state of love is our instinctive place to wish to return to and our intentions are drawn from there. It is so easy to hear and be the worst of things, to use anger and coldness as a crutch for survival, but true connection, true living can only come from love; no matter how much it might hurt to get there.

Values

I was recently challenged to ‘contribute’ more to my family through the means of bringing in income. It was directed at me with the implication that all I do is live off my husband and swan about.

Naturally, I felt hurt and insulted.

I work hard. Most days the only time I get to sit down between 6.30am and 8pm is in the car to and from the school run and at supper; my mind is constantly flitting from one ‘to do’ item to the next and wondering how many I can multitask simultaneously. Oh and yes about once a week I will meet a friend for a coffee or a catch up, my rest time, because my job is all-day-and-all-night-every-single-day, so a coffee break every now and then is just basic essential care.

Many articles have crossed checked the monetary value of a SAHM (Stay at Home Mum) and have discovered that to replicate their input into the household would require a vast outlay of money on separate personnel. But I don’t want to compare my job to gold coins, I want to shift the perspective to our core values, money is certainly a necessary commodity but it is not the ultimate need.

In relationships we discuss whether or not we have similar values, rarely does this simply mean how much finance each partner will contribute. More often than not these values include honesty, respect, communication, parenting choices and family relationships. Do the values marry? If so, these are signs of potentially strong and life-long relationships.

For me, wholesome values are not just in partnered relationships but across the board in friendships, work peers, community connections and of course within our parent/child dynamics.

So when my ‘value’ as a SAHM was narrowed into the crude description as to whether or not I brought home gold coins, I felt a deep grief for all that I provide to my family, for all the non-material value that is unacknowledged and underappreciated across our societal norms. I felt that grief ripple out to all those individuals who offer their voluntary acts of service to our community to care for the young, old, infirm, environment and animals, who are whitewashed into the background because they don’t bring gold bullion back home. How distorted have our societal values become when my job, to shape, nurture and guide our future generations, is dismissed as luxurious and frivolous?

For me, I hugely value the consistency and security my children receive to help their confidence flourish out into the world; to enable them to stretch their bungee ropes to distant discoveries and bounce right back again when they need. I know that my choice to stay at home is solely built on nurturing their human potential.

That potential is not about shaping them into the best lawyers or doctors, but to help them know their own happiness now and in their future, to help them have the courage to stand up for truth and honour, love and respect. And all that is a multi-levelled task; it covers presence, diet, response time, emotional well being, sleep, health & friendships.

My daughter recently described her future to me, when she would leave school, what her career would be, how many children she would have, the usual musings of the young and fearless! But what I heard in amongst her description what that she would take a career break to have children; she has chosen a career that she can step out of and return to when she wishes because she values what me being at home means to her and she wants to offer that back to her children too. It has been important to her, it has been of value.

There is a wonderful analogy in Heidi’s Children where the grandfather is on his deathbed and asks little Marta to go to the high pastures and pick him fresh strawberries. She does as he bids but, with the encouragement of her friends, instead of returning straight home, she sells them in the town and brings home money which she is told will bring her grandfather greater happiness. The grandfather is furious, for he had been looking forward to the succulent, refreshing strawberries all day, and he demands Marta bite the coin to see if it brings the same satisfaction.

This…

This is where our values are mistaken at times, there is no monetary replacement for nourishment, kindness and love and the most glorious thing about these is that they are absolutely free.

So next time someone challenges me to bring greater value to my family, I might just remind them that I gift strawberries not gold.

Initiation

I was listening to a lecture by Robert Moore the other day and heard him describe what happens to our children when they are not supported through to adulthood with the appropriate initiation.

An appropriate initiation meaning a rite of passage supported by the elders of the community that delivers the teenager into their authentic strength, their self belief and their burgeoning knowing.

Robert Moore described how men without initiation have a tendencey to lack the wisdom to handle their natural aggression; it has not been tempered or guided with the knowledge of the elders. This is a big topic of conversation on social media and the world stage right now. Men and their aggression. I’ll come back to that…

He then went on to say that women without initiation have a tendencey to fall into the space of victim; they are not empowered in their self belief and inner strength. Bingo!

Aggressive Men / Victim Women…. is that not the constant narrative on twitter/facebook/instagram etc at the moment. The topic du jour.

Except that we are looking at it face on, rather than behind the scenes. I have heard very few voices who actually understand where this dynamic is coming from, reaching back to our ancestry and forward to our knowledge of psychology to bring forth this vital information.

Our society is failing our children by not supporting, creating and delivering this aspect of transition, from child to adult. We can continue to spend the days verbalising on social media or we can take action and begin to change the world with a true and meaningful understanding of how to achieve that.

Healthy initiation (and university style trauma is definitely not that!) is a critical piece of the puzzle of healing.

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I personally know of three global organisations that help to create that process of initiation for men & woman, no matter what age:

The ManKind Project

Woman Within International

Women in Power