We know that the transition into motherhood is deeply challenging. It shakes our very sense of who we are in the world; it asks us to transform and adapt and surrender, every step of the way. Not only that, but modern-day mothers are navigating this transformative...
When I read the headline citing new research from the National Institutes of Health – “Postpartum Depression May Affect Women for At Least Three Years After Childbirth” – I remembered an evening, a decade ago, that forever changed the way I thought about...
“I don’t know what to do.” “I don’t know who I am anymore.” “Everything is up in the air.” So many of us are finding ourselves repeating these mantras of the unknown these days. They’re the language of endings and new beginnings, the lexicon of the...
Figure it out. Move on. Set some goals. Get 'er done. During times of radical transformation, these phrases are part of a common narrative shaped by our capitalist patriarchal culture. Uncomfortable with the unknown, with liminal...
Two years ago, while I was sitting on the couch watching a movie with my kids one Friday night, I became certain that I was going to fall asleep that night and never wake up. My heart was pounding and it pounded harder as I graphically pictured the...
I don't care what Maslow says. Belonging is a human requirement best suited for the bottom tier of the hierarchy of needs, right alongside food and shelter and safety. (In fact, Maslow's hierarchy has come into some question, being as it...
Those who will not slip beneath the still surface on the well of grief turning down though its black water to the place we cannot breathe will never know the source from which we drink the secret water cold and clear nor find in the darkness glimmering the...
When I started supporting women through radical life transformation over a decade ago, I, with a research-based Masters degree in women’s health (aka total nerd) wanted to dive into the research about what it means for us humans to navigate life transition....
This morning, when I crawled out of bed to begin my day, the yellowest waning moon poured her light into my bedroom window, filtering across the sleeping bodies of my husband and nine-year-old (who leaves her top bunk reliably every night, despite the stuffies we've...