As she lay curled in the foetal
position, she murmured the words ‘I cannot do this anymore. I cannot get out of
bed. I have nothing left’. Her confused and concerned husband stood there
holding the baby, with a toddler clinging to each leg, not knowing what to do
or say. And as she turned away from her beloved little family, she sadly
wondered what had happened to her.
Who was she?
What had happened to her life?
Where had she gone?
When did she loose herself?
Why had she become so lost?
How did she become this person?
And in her numbness and
exhaustion, she grieved the loss of the passionate, spirited, intriguing and
inspiring girl that she once was. That she was, before she became a mother.
Was it possible to ever find her
again?
That mountain seemed too huge to
even contemplate climbing and yet she would move that same mountain for her
children if she had too. So powerful was
her love for her children.
She just couldn’t climb it for
herself.
Oh, the grief that filled her in
that awareness - that there is not enough of me, for them and me.
How can there possibly be enough
for both?
For that love, that deep maternal
love, that one cannot comprehend until they experience it, compelled her to
fill their cup with all that she had, while leaving her own empty. And this was
to be to her detriment. And to her children’s.
How had the pure joy and magic of
becoming a mother a mere four years previously been replaced by this?
Three babies, a miscarriage, an
interstate move with no friends or family close by, a resignation from a once loved
job, unexpected acceptance of a full-time ‘stay at home mummy’ gig, a hard
working husband, a traumatising home break-in in the middle of the night and the
passing of a beloved father, which had not been fully grieved, distracted by
little people and their needs.
A lot had happened in those four
years. Far too much to experience from a depleted state of being. Far too much
to experience with an empty cup.
I AM NOT COPING.
Those life-changing words, simply
stated to her GP, became a public declaration of her vulnerability, and were the
key to finding herself again. In reclaiming and reconnecting to that
passionate, spirited, intriguing and inspiring girl that she had inadvertently
lost somewhere along the way. Somewhere in her motherhood journey she had lost
the essence of ME, replacing it with her love for others. And while she had
convinced herself that that was enough, she finally listened that morning as
she laid curled, frightened and empty in bed, that it clearly was not enough.
She realised you cannot be enough
to others, if you are not enough within yourself.
You cannot love others fully, if
you do not first fully love yourself.
And so began the path back to
herself. An extraordinary and exciting journey of discovery of her true SELF.
An endless journey, because there is always more to explore, more to grow into,
more to become.
I AM THAT GIRL.
And within 2 weeks of speaking
those powerful words, Kinesiology had found me. And as I found myself sitting
in a classroom only days later, without my babies surrounding me for the first
time in years, I breathed and allowed myself to be taken wherever this ‘Kinesiology
thing’ took me. This ‘Kinesiology thing’, which I didn’t really have a clue
about and had seemingly quite randomly stumbled across and yet I couldn’t shake
the deep sense of intrigued and inner knowing that I simply had to study it.
As I sat in my course on that
first day, feeling like I had discovered a treasure, I knew it wasn’t really about
me. I knew I was learning so I could help other women, who like me had lost
themselves. I knew I was learning so that I could help them find their way back
to their true self, or ideally teach them how to hold onto their true self as
they enter motherhood. For when we hold onto the essence of who we are, there
is no need to go searching for what you have lost, instead you can use all that
extraordinary energy on expanding who you are into the most magnificent version
of your SELF – and that is the greatest gift that you could ever give yourself
and your children!
Four years later, almost to the
day, since I couldn’t get out of bed, I sit here typing these words,
interrupted by morning kisses, cuddles and declarations of love, from my now 8,
6 and 4 year olds. My heart is filled with gratitude for where my moment of
despair, my moment of pure vulnerability has taken me. And I am filled with
love for myself, for allowing myself to courageously let go and go where this
journey of self-discovery has taken me.
