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I Saw a “Soul Channeller”.

I don’t make appointments to see psychics. Generally.

In the past, I have paid to see a numerologist once and also an astrologist once.

And if I summarised what they said, they both had threads of resonance. Some times like realllllly resonant. Other times, not so much.

Yesterday I had an appointment to see a “Soul Channeller” for a “Soul Session”. An appointment I made after a friend had had the experience on a couple of occasions and rated it. I trust her.

“I’ll have a Soul Session thank you”.

Why not?

It makes me smile that she even calls it a soul session. In the week leading up to my appointment, I was writing in my journal about developing content for a Sunday Soul Session Gathering..a little like church without the religion. So when she said, “Today we will do a soul session”, well, it didn’t come completely as a surprise.

On the way up the driveway, I feel a nervousness for the first time since making the appointment. In my gut. A check in revealed that I was feeling afraid. It was a feeling of fear around the possibility that I might be seen.

Like proper.

Stuff that I might not actually want her to see.

Judged even.

What if she plants a seed that I don’t want planted. She tells me something that I don’t want to do. And then I feel conflicted because that isn’t what I actually want to do but the channeller person said that is what my soul wants.

What if?

And as I acknowledged the fear, took a breath and said, “Trust yourself. You’ve got everything you need already. This is an experience. An adventure. Enjoy it”.

 I walked into her little cosy space and exhaled.

In the old days, psychics are painted as these older women with unattended hair and bony fingers. Dark make up and little eye contact. Dark. Mysterious. Witchy-poo-ish I guess.

The little soul speaker I met with yesterday was anything but.

The brightest most intense blue eyes I may have have looked in to. Caramel tanned skin and sunbleached blonde hair. Full lips. Kind face. Warm energy.

I exhaled again. Deeper. I knew I was safe by the way my body felt. Calm. Relaxed. Safe.

We sat.

I was asked to shuffle the biggest pack of cards I think I have seen in my life and invited to infuse them with my energy, my questions, my desires.

And when she handed me the deck, I went completely blank. I couldn’t think of a thing to infuse. I had so much stuff, but not one fucking thing came to mind. Not one. Blank. Crickets. And for me..that really never happens. I don’t have an easily quietened mind.

Ever!

I shuffled. And nothing came.

In that moment I felt a little panicked. Like, “Quick Jen, don’t waste this session. What do you want to know?”

Then I wondered why I hadn’t spent any time considering what I wanted to ask her before I came to the appointment.

Maybe I didn’t have a deep burn for clarity over anything in particular.

Maybe I was skeptical and so didn’t bother taking it seriously.

Or maybe, I was just open to the experience and willing to have a play.

I shuffled some more, took some deep breaths and just said to myself, “Whatever I need to hear today. Lets do that”.

Exhale.

I place the deck down and she went to work.

She laid a shit load of them out on the table. Like a story book. A “ticket to a movie”, she said. “Tarot”, she said.

Meanwhile she gives me another deck and asked me to draw one card. I drew the “Patience” card. Ha! I thought. Funny! Me asked to be patient? Just cannot imagine why.

I am driven. I like to see things created. Come to life. I am not someone to sit around waiting to be asked. I like to make stuff happen that I am passionate about. I am a doer. A Show-er. A creator. An impactor. A human helper.

And when I come up with an idea or hear about someone else idea, I get excited and I want to see it happen like, NOW.

And yet ironically, because of the way my mind works, I am distracted so easily with other projects and creative ventures. Something that our little channeller recognised! The strength of being a creative soul and the distraction of what that brings. Making it difficult to get clear on the one thing that requires the energy.

Nodding and agreeing with her ‘feels’ I felt safer and safer. So far, nothing had been off the mark.

Skeptics say that psychics are scam artists. Read people and fish around for links until they get one and then they take off on that tangent. And perhaps there is some truth to that. I know when I am listening deeply to my intuitive voice I can hear things about other people and often when I ask them about it, it is spot on.

I wonder if we all have this ability in us. And it is similar to tuning into the right frequency. Like turning the dial on the radio. Some of us know how to tune in to make sense of the static. It sounds different. Some hear music while some of us hear white noise.

The little channeller came straight in with, “The first thing that is coming to me with you is…they are saying..it’s all about what your business is here to do..so, they are wanting to talk about your work venture more or less”.

I have her words in speech marks because I recorded the session, so have it word for word. Thats a good thing. You get a lot of information. You want it to be retrievable. Reviewable.

And so, we talked about the work venture.

And of ALL the gazillion, bazzilion things that she could have brought up about me and my work, the thing she brings up is the EXACT thing that I have be dreaming and scheming since I was in my 20’s. And it is only in the last week, that I have actually actioned it..like for real.

I couldn’t say anything. She detailed all the stuff.

“And that”, she said “is what they want you to put your energy into. It is going to be so successful, in ways you can’t even consider right now”.

And with that, I clapped my hands on the inside, like a little excited child when they were surprised with an unexpected and well received gift.

She gave me time frames, speed bumps, locations. The lot.

We talked relationship stuff that was SPOT.ON.

We talked kid stuff that was COMPLETELY ON THE MONEY.

She told me I was teacher. Ran workshops. And I will continue to do these. And my girls will help me.

And I have to say, nothing in there was actually new.

It was all validation.

Validation of what I already knew.

Sometimes we have old wounds around trusting ourselves.

Maybe there have been times when we made a decision and it didn’t go to plan.

Maybe we didn’t listen to our intuition that time and things went completely to shit.So now can’t trust ourselves with it.

I know I am still building the ability to fully trust myself. At my age.

I’m so excited to see where this life experience takes me. My family. Us.

I am open to abundance. Miracles. And some seriously magical shizzle.

In the meantime, I still will be humaning and human helping with my teachings and coaching and workshops. And this will grow too.

What a week.

Oh and if you want more details on the Soul Speaker I saw, shoot me an email and I’ll hook you up.

As always, I am curious…..

Have you seen a psychic,medium, soul speaker? Love to hear your stories.

Big, big love

Jen

x


Upcoming Events

*Mother and Daughter Creative Connection Day

*Envisioning – Vision/Love/Inspo Board Day

*The Gathering – Creative Women Unite to Heart Storm

Drop me a line if you want any more information about these events.

 

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One Day She Decided……

Once up on a time there a was a really tall woman. Ok, not so much as tall as she wanted to be be tall.

One day this moderately tall woman just made  decision.

She made a decision to care about herself. Like really give a shit.

And she knew that making a decision wasn’t enough.

She had to prove it to herself. She had do the whole thing from ‘knowing’ to ‘showing’.

One day she made a decision to disappoint people. To let them down. Because she knew that to say yes to herself meant she would have to say no to others. And she knew it was time. The cost of saying yes to others meant she was saying no to herself. Too much.

One day she stopped. She stopped the running. The chasing. The needing. And she settled into the acceptance of just being enough. Believing for the first time that she had done enough. That she was enough. And exhaled in to the enough-ness.

One day she made a decision to receive. To tear up the bullshit contract she had signed with herself to be of service to everyone else and never to receive anything in return.

One day she made the decision to give herself a fucking break. To put down the beat up stick. To look herself square in the eyes in the mirror and say, “I’ve been waiting for you”, and “I totally forgive you and love you”.

One day she was okay with her imperfect body. Short. Stocky. Soft. Painful. And stopped judging the fuck out of it.

One day she made the decision to live life on her own terms. To be okay with this not vibing with others. To risk the loss of friendships. Of old patterns. Of old bullshit victim stories. She decided.

One day she genuinely decided to see what she thought were weaknesses as absolute fucking strengths. And she wore them proud. A lot.

One day she stopped waiting around for others to take action and she just took action herself.

One day she decided she was worthy of support and surrounded herself with appropriate souls to help her out!

One day she owned her gifts. And she shared them. All the time. Knowing there was always more where that came from.

One day she made a decision to show up. Proper. Raw. Authentic. Dusty. Rusty. Busted. And still know she is worthy of love and belonging.

One day she decided that she actually had everything she needed within her to light the fuck up. Bright. Full out. Big bright. And if people needed to look away because it blinded them, then look away.

One day she decided to play. To laugh. To live. Life is too fucking serious on the TV. So she turned off the TV.

One day she decided to give herself permission to parent how the fuck she felt lead to. Her way. She knows that there are a million ways to parent, and her way is love, creativity and freedom. A role without judgement. Without the pressure of her kids needing to be anything other than themselves. No rewards for academic success. But love for showing up. Uniquely them.

One day she decided to trust her soul speak. Her heart speak. Her gut speak. And her ovaries speak.

One day she told the people she loved the most, that she loved them the most. And she decided to tell them more. And more.

One day she surrendered to the truth that she could not do everything herself. And in fact. Didn’t want to anyway.

One day she accepted that some people just will not change. Ever. And that is none of her business.

One day she stopped waiting to be asked. And instead was brave enough to ask herself!

One day she decided to tell the truth about how she felt. In the moment. Without shame. Knowing that honouring that feeling, the energy would move on like a wave, instead of getting stuck in the judgement kink!

One day she decided to stop justifying herself and her decisions.

One day she emailed people who she wanted to work with, connect with, talk to and learn from.

One day she decided that she can change her mind. At any time. and not beat up on herself for it. It’s her life. Her way.

Her way.

One day.

One day at a time.

One decision.

At a time.

To be continued………………

Soon, as always, I’d love to hear!

What is your ONE decision on this ONE day?


Upcoming Gigs

April

  • Mother and Daughter Creative Connection Day – Play. Laugh. Cry. Mystery.
  • Vision Board/Love Board/Inspo Board Day – Connect. Create. Learn. Laugh.
  • The Gathering – Space for Women to Gather and Connect…for real – Mediation. Movement. Talk. Listen. Eat. Drink tea.

Also taking bookings for one on one break-through sessions.

Email me for more info and let me know what you vibe with!

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Expectation Hangovers!

This week in our little Soul Creative group we are focussing on the effects of an Expectation Hangover.

And when we talk about Expectation Hangovers, who better to lead us than Christine Hassler, author of the highly delicious book called, surprisingly; Expectation Hangover!

I’ve summarised a big part of Christine’s intro in here, and smothered in some of my own juice as well. Make sure you check out her book for a deeper dive.


928ba8fa42e1111bebe9caab4c52aeb0.jpgYou know that feeling when you have poured your heart and soul into something that you are pumped about, inspired to do and have your head down, getting on with it, focussed, committed and motivated.

And then, at some point, you put your head up and realise that you are not where you want to be, or that the vision hasn’t come off as expected.

You go on to marriage and have an expectation of how it is going to be. How it will be different to how everyone else does it. That you will be the game changers and everyone will think that you are the role model and co-authors of ‘How to Have a Happiest Most Full of Love and Sex and Desire and Friendship Marriage’. You say it in your vows. And then, at some point you lift your head and wonder how the hell you got where you are. And it couldn’t be further from the title of the book!

You’ve trained 5 years at university, blood sweat and tears. All the exams. Assignments. Presentations. Feedback. Beers. And puffing and panting your way to get to the end so that you can have the dream position only to find that it is NOTHING like you expected and wonder what the hell you have done with your life.

All your life you wanted to be a mother. You dreamed of your children being little angels spawned from you and your lover. They would be healthy. And vibrant. And funny. and cute. And obedient. And easy. I mean, it has been happening since the beginning of time right. How hard could it be? And then, you wake up…oh no you don’t wake up because you haven’t been to sleep for 43 hours because your two cherubs have colds and are miserable and are screaming and need fed and changed and hugged and burped and reassured. And at the end, really, it seems all you are there for it to be a slave to this little unit.

You want desperately to be a great mother. But you feel like you are dropping the ball. Like all the time. Sigh. It is hard arse shit when you set out with a dream of how things will go and then, it doesn’t.

One of the worst feelings about having an expectation hangover is that we feel like we have failed.

That we haven’t met out standard or goals.

Especially if we have poured our hearts and soul into it.

When it become about the destination and not the journey, we seem to experience pain and discomfort.

When we don’t get what we want after pouring all of our time, love, efforts and hearts into something it can feel like it is a cruel universal joke. On US.

e92ede4c3a92bd4ab770b75b3ff9ae0e.jpgAll the good feelings that we had along the way, in the excitement and creative phase, vanishes and we are left asking ourselves, “why the fuck is this happening?”

The main reason that disappointment happens is to teach us a paradigm shift. It causes us (if we choose to learn this) to look inside and go within and ultimately find a new direction.

We don’t voluntarily sign up for lessons in Expectation Hangovers so that we might learn. It threatens the scared part of is that clings to control, security, external results.

So, in order to shift this, we might have to take another focus.

Not a head focus, but a heart focus. A curious exploration to see if you can find answers.

Not the answers that you might expect!

  1. Control is an Illusion. 

We put in work, so naturally we expect results. Right? We expect that if I work hard then I will be rewarded and I will achieve all I desire. We are told that aren’t we? When we achieve goals and meet our expectations we feel safe, satisfied and rewarded. Validated even. Worthy maybe even more.

But have you noticed that we don’t actually have that much control over our lives?

Kids get sick unexpectedly.

We lose our jobs.

We fail the exam.

They don’t call us back.

And we aren’t talking about giving everything over to a higher power and not having any accountability or input into our lives. No, just looking at the way that life seems to work. That we can plan our arses off as to how things will be and then, it shifts…it does. It does right?

It has been said, like a gazillion times:

“It isn’t what happens to us, it is how we respond to it when it does that matters”.

It does seem though, that we put far more effort in attempting to control life than we put into taking responsibility for our expectation hangovers.

This isn’t about trusting in a higher power as much as it is about TRUSTING OURSELVES to be able to deal with things when they don’t go the way we planned.

Besides, lets be honest, if everything went to plan, imagine all the surprises we would miss out on! All the little changes in directions. Lessons that we wouldn’t have been exposed to. Pleasant things can come out of shit things…

2. Your Comfort Zone is Your Trap

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Comfort zones are a thing that in the last 10 years or so I have heard a lot about.

“Get out of your comfort zone”.

“Magic happens outside your comfort zone”.

“Comfort zones inhibit growth”.

It makes sense that we like to find ourselves snuggled up in our comfort zones. They feel safe. Like nothing can touch us. We don’t feel exposed. We wont get our little feelings hurt.

In our comfort zones we choose behaviours that seem to keep reinforcing the feelings of security. Our brains highest desire.

It feels familiar. Like we know this place. Our exhale place. But our comfort zone doesn’t feel safe and secure because it is healthy, it feels that way because it gives us the illusion of control!

From inside this bubble we look and long for the highs of achievement, of love of inspiration, of passion…but in here, we don’t want to feel the uncomfortable feelings that come along with stepping outside our safe space.

So, we continue to play safe.

Engaging in behaviours and routines that are so familiar. Repeated patterns. Have you noticed them?

I see a lot of clients who desperately want to step outside of their comfort zone, and feel like they are ready to make the step and then because of all the years of story and and a million other reasons, they just can’t do it. They stay trapped inside the safe confines of the comfort zone. The familiar. Even if the familiar feels heavy and un-liberating. It is familiar. And in familiar there is safety.

If a plant outgrows it’s pot, do you leave it to be root bound and die, or do you upgrade the pot? Nourish it? Water it? Feed it? Give it space to grow?

The comfort zone is the shell of constriction….not actual protection!

When I am feeling the feelings of an Expectation Hangover…I know that I am in a growth phase and I am going to get some yummy learnings!

No matter what you believe about yourself, you are worthy of and deserve to expand!

3. It Ain’t Out There

Are you a “when/if/then” kinda folk?

“When I get the job I want I’ll be happy”?

“If they call me back I am worthy of love and affection”.

“When I get married, then I will feel accepted”.

“If I just had another qualification I would step out and speak about the stuff I love”.

“If I didn’t lose my job I’d be a millionaire by now”.

“If I had more supportive parents, then I wouldn’t be suffering now”.

Insert your own when, ifs, buts….

Many people ‘work on themselves’ so that they can get something external to themselves. 

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And lets be honest, it is bloody amazing and important to have dreams outside of ourselves.

But when the inner work we do is designed solely to get outer results, we will continue to experience Expectation Hangovers!

We think that happiness comes from getting what we want. And so when we don’t get what we want, we are deflated. Let down. Disappointed.

Our obsession with what we can do, or have or be means we are constantly looking for an external result.

Here is a news flash and it is worth highlighting:

“Fulfilment is not something we can make happen”.

Breathe that in for a moment.

Not something YOU can MAKE happen.

It is only when we have the courage to let go of what we EXPECT will happen the we begin to experience the kind of fulfilment that lasts!

Each Expectation Hangover gives us the opportunity to let go of something external that we have clung to for worth, safety, or love and to find – in ourselves – the experience we are actually looking for!

4. You Are Not Being Punished

During the let down from and Expectation Hangover it is so easy to feel like we deserve to feel shit.

We buy into the common misunderstanding that bad things happen as tests. Or even payback for something we may or may not have done in the past.

Most of us carry around some form of fear that the universe, or god, or spirit, or energy is judging us in some way. So, when things don’t go our way, we believe that this is penance and we deserve to suffer through it.

THIS COULD BE NO FURTHER FROM THE TRUTH

The truth, if you want it, is that EVERY circumstance that you encounter is actually FOR your highest good – even if by fuck it doesn’t feel like it at the time!

Hear this please:

The universe does not punish, test, or keep a list of all the good and bad things/the right and wrong things! It just doesn’t. There is not an ounce of evidence that that is even slightly true!

You didn’t do ANYTHING wrong! No THING.

You have ALWAYS been doing the best you could! Really! Truely!

Even if you don’t believe this right now, just yet, please just open the little space in your heart and mind to consider that this might be more true than the BS negative self talk you have been carrying around.

Beating yourself up about being tested and failing is only adding to the pain and temptation to stay in your comfort zone. Each time you consider stepping out you worry you are going to be punished…well, lets let that BS story go. Now. Drop that shit like a hot arse piece of coal. Poof!

Keep looking at life as a grand adventure. No clinging to ideas of how it needs to be or should be.

Opportunities to grow a plenty!

“When you dance, your purpose is not to get to a certain place on the floor. It is to enjoy each step along the way”. Wayne Dyer

Biggest love to you all

Jen

xx

The Beginning of the break: Part 2

I don’t actually know how many parts there are to this break. And I guess I will only know when I continue to unfold them.

So, the break part 1 I wrote 21 days ago now. And in my last blog on this, I said I would be back the following week to finish it off [here if you missed it…].

So what has happened that has gotten in the way of that?

I don’t know if you believe in metaphysical stuff [If you don’t know what metaphysical is…] but after this little experience I am certainly curious enough about the real connections.

So. I wrote about the pain of worry and anxiety that first year of trying to conceive.

And I kid you not, the following day I got excruciating back pain and sciatic pain. Pain, that I can only describe as contractions. Like birthing contractions. Except, there was no reprieve from the contraction. It was just one long epic contraction. Fucking painful.

So painful, that it took me to the doctor. A place I don’t usually go much these days. But I went. I get x-rays. Scans. And it revealed that I have a bulging disc that presses right on my sciatic nerve. Like all day long.

But what does this have to do with writing about something that happened 11 years ago?

Here is the thing with stored pain.

The body remembers trauma. Science tells us that. It ain’t no hokey pokey deal anymore. It remembers and holds emotional pain. In the cells. Trapped. Waiting for release.

And, seemingly, when the body speaks to us, in a way we cannot ignore, as in the way of excruciating pain, it seems we are offered an opportunity to heal the old wounds that have been just waiting. Waiting for love and attention.

So my back and nerves call. And I listen.

I was 7 days overdue with our first bub. It was the middle of January in Australia and I was huge and swollen and big and uncomfortable and nervous. The longer that bub was in there, I knew the bigger they were growing, making it all the more difficult to get out.

So we met with our Obstetrician and decided we would go for an induction. To get things moving.

In we went. All prepared to have this baby, effortlessly and quickly.

Effortlessly and quickly. I mean, is that true? What the fuck?

But we did. Naively we walked in. Laughing at the events to come.

The gel went in. Off we went for a walk. And within about 45 minutes, the contractions began.

Exciting. It’s happening. After all that time, something was happening. Pain was happening. And off we went back to the hospital.

Fitted with a contraction monitor, my husband would watch with great interest as the little drawing needle would begin to head north. “Oh, this is a big one” he would say. Not surprising to me of course given they were happening in my body.

And on this went for hours. Hours and hours of the up and down. 5 minutes a part. Like intense. And still, no dilation.

“What do you mean it isn’t working?”. I belted out 6 hours in.

“Your cervix isn’t dilating”.

Oh great. I am fucking broken. I can’t even get a baby out of this body.

“So what now?”.

“Well, I think we prep you for a caesarean section”.

“A fucking what? But, this isn’t in my plan. This isn’t what I have researched. I didn’t pay any attention to caesarean section blah blah in antenatal classes. Fuck. No. This can’t be happening”.

And then whomp. Another fucking contraction. Oh the pain. The tears. The snot. The pain.

It was happening. I asked for some more time. Just to see. Surely it would work.

I was given more time. And nothing more happened, except I ended up in more pain and more anxiety.

So, I surrendered to the wishes of the doctor and I before I knew it, I was being wheeled around to the operating room with not gas, not drugs, not pain relief, just a fuck load of pain.

The anaesthetist came in and calmly talked me through what would be happening. At that stage I I didn’t give a shit frankly. I just wanted the pain to stop.

And the wish I desperately made, came true as soon as I curled up into a ball, holding my contracting belly while the gentle doctor gave me the numbing syrup. And the pain, it just dissolved.

I cried with relief and soon, I was capable of speaking. And soon I felt calm. And soon I would hold my baby.

In less than half an hour, I was united with our baby. Big baby. Healthy baby. And the next chapter unfolded.

We became parents, and in the moment I made a decision that I would hand my life over to be of service to this baby and it would be my job in life to provide everything he needed. Always.

In that moment, I gave no thought to the unprocessed pain my body hadn’t expressed. The cutting off of the pain, that seemed to lock in. And lock down. Quite possibly waiting for a time when I might revisit it. To release it.

So it is not a surprise to me, when I visit my acupuncturist and I am asked to describe the pain I say, “Like an unending contraction”.

When I lay on the bed and the acupuncturist checks the meridians that the pain runs on, I am told, “Isn’t it interesting. The exact route of your pain is exactly where we treat women who are in labour”.

“Get out of town”. I say. “Huh, well of course it is. And what is interesting is that it all began to be painful when I started writing about my pregnancy”.

“Might be time to finish that story. To transform the energy?”

“I think you are right”, I say.

And here we are.

Who knows what will happen with my pain. But what I do know, is that;

“Owning our story and forgiving ourselves through the process is the bravest thing we can do.” Brene Brown.

 

So, my precious body. I am so sorry that I was mean to you and spoke harshly about you because you didn’t meet my expectations.

I am sorry for hating on you. I am sorry for not listening to you. I am sorry that you tried to talk to me and I didn’t listen.

I am sorry that you had to endure what you did and then were ignored. For all those times when you wanted a relationship with me and I never thought you deserved it. That you weren’t good enough. That you didn’t act like I wanted you to.

I am sorry. And I ask you to forgive me. And I invite you to pass this pain now. I hear you sweet one. I hear you.

I love you and I am sorry.

Forever yours. Jen. xxx

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My guess is that this wont be the last time I apologise to you.

In a culture that bread suck it up and get on with it, I know there are so many times I ignored you. Left you completely unloved and depleted. And for that I am sorry too. I promise that I will continue to do the best I can to take care of you. Nurture you. Love you unconditionally. It is of course a work in practice.

And I know that you are still learning to trust me, after I have neglected you so much along the way. I’m going to put in the effort to restore the trust. Gently. Ever so gently.

Not wanting to race head long into making changes. That is old way.

New way. To be with you. Not challenge you. But be kind to you.

Dearest body, I love you and I am sorry. How can I make it up to you?

“Just be kind…that is all”, says my body.

“Ok”.

And the journey continues….

 

Just wanted to remind you…..!

I just wanted to remind you to stop being mean to yourself. Stop.

Humaning is such a fucking adventure often loaded with barbs of pain. Massive deep driving barbs!

Humaning is filled with discomfort and errors in judgement and fucking fuck ups!

It just is.

I just wanted to remind you that this is the first time you have done this gig in this physical form.

And each moment is a completely new experience. And you haven’t navigated it ever before.

So stop being an arsehole to yourself.

Putting pressure on yourself to get everything ‘right’ and ‘perfect’.

Allow yourself to embody being a human.

I mean, isn’t that what we signed up for?

To have this human experience…this time around. And none of it you have done before because each time we encounter something, it is new. Each and every time!

So stop being a dick to yourself.

Haven’t you been mean to yourself enough? And how has that turned out?

Try some kindness.

Speak to yourself like someone you like. Speak to yourself like you are speaking to your best mate.

Love you.

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It Really Does Matter.

Each Friday I have committed to sharing my Five Faves for Five Weeks.

Yes, it is kitchy, but this is Five Faves Friday. Week two!

This week, I am giving you my 5 reasons to share your story!

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Believe me. Don’t believe me. Read my stuff. Don’t read my stuff.

But it matters to me to write. It matters to me to share my story. It matters to me that people know they are not alone.

AND…

You. Your story. It matters! It matters to me.

And people need to hear it!

I’ll tell you why!

I write pretty passionately about some topics.

I can get pretty ruffled by other topics and I speak my heart, thoughts, body on them.

I can be outspoken. Opinionated.

And I can be judged for it. As I can judge others.

Recently I received some unsolicited advice from someone I was sharing with about some mothering stuff. Being a mum. The role of parent.

This person, beautiful to the core, didn’t have children.

And her advice, was as the advice would have been before I had children. Except she said, “I know what you mean”.

And I smiled.

In all her excitement and desire to help, (which I really didn’t need or want) she blurted out a whole lot of stuff that, well, left me a little like….”Um, thanks for your thoughts on this” And as I walked away mumbled to myself, “Come talk to me after you have had children sweet one”.

I saw me as a younger version of myself. Desperate to help. Even when I wan’t asked for it. Fixers. Big hearted folks. People who care. We all do this.

God knows how much in my life I have done it. And what a gift she gave me.

This life thing.

Often as we are finding our way, we seek council. Support. Advice. And fuck I admire those brave enough to ask for it!

But we have to be mindful of who we seek for advice.

I wouldn’t be going to a mechanic to get advice on my Spotify account usage.

I wouldn’t be going to a swim instructor if I wanted to write a book.

Well, I might if that was their passion, so never say never I suppose.

Annnnnyway…..

Elizabeth Lesser in her book Broken Open tells of a time when she was looking for some advice from Spiritual Teacher Ram Dass.

Elizabeth lead with, “Can have your advice on something?” To which Ram Dass replies, “Only if it about being a man, who has never married and isn’t attached to material things. Much beyond that, I don’t know. I can only speak of what I have experienced”.

Some boom humility there.

I don’t know what it is like to be a single mother, even though I was raised by one.

I don’t know what it is like to be divorced. Even though my parents were.

I don’t know what it is like to have cancer, even though I worked in Oncology.

I don’t know what it is like to be adopted. Even though my mother was.

I don’t know what it is like to lose a parent to death. Even though I have stood beside friends who have.

I don’t know what it is like to be a man, even though I am married to one.

I don’t know what it is like to be bullied. Even though I was a bully.

I don’t know what it is like to be homeless, even though I was in foster care.

I don’t know what it is like to care for someone who is in chronic pain, even though I studied it at university.

I don’t know.

But I am interested. SO interested. SO interested. Intrigued. Mesmerised.

Five Reasons Why Sharing Your Story is Vital.

  1. When you share your story, you show people an alternative way. You give alternative perspectives. And people be like, “yeah, I’m going to try that”.
  2. I can’t live all the lives that can be lived. To have all the experiences. To share all the adventures.
  3. You offer a way for others who may be lost in the same wilderness as you were.
  4. You provide the opportunity for others to say, “Me too” and then they don’t feel alone.
  5. You leave a legacy. People will get to know the real you. Not the glossy, public you. You allow people to get to really SEE you.

Life.

You get yours.

I get mine.

And they get theirs.

And you will vibe with some and not with others. And lets agree that we can be okay with that. Without anyone being better than or less than. Just different.

So, if we ever meet, I will want to know who you are, what your story is and I will want to remind you that your story, your experience matters. I will seem nosy. Intrusive even. But it’s because that is important to me.

I’m not the kind of small talk chick. I can do it, but it exhausts me. 

And I am reminded, after my little encounter recently, that I will never pretend to know what it is like for you in what you are going through.

And even though I might not have experienced any of the things you have, I will try not to tell you how you should do your life. I am a fixer. I will always be one. So I will want to help. But I will try my best to meet you where you are.

So if you read what I write and be all like, “It’s all right for you isn’t it…but you don’t know what it’s like to be…..*insert your life experience*” I would say, I agree. I have no idea. But I still would love to hear all about it anyway!

If you have a story to share, that you think may benefit others – because god knows people need to find their people – let me help you set up a blog. Or a film an interview. Or, I don’t know…help you find your written words….anything!

Your experience matters. 

You matter. 

Big, big love

Jen

xxx

Oh and P.S……

…..Before anyone gets upset that I am putting down the value of non-mothers opinions, let me embrace you and let you know…some of my most biggest life influencers and role models are those without children. Oprah. Marie Forleo. Kris Carr. xx

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The Begining of the Break: Part 1.

Adele’s touching speech at the Grammys yesterday, hit my heart. My life space.

She spoke of losing herself after she had children. Of how tough it was to go through that. And that her most recent album was a way to recover herself. To transform.

So me. I was touched. And I wanted to share my break.

She going to get all out there with this one.

She going to hit the topic that, when felt deeply, well, it can sting. In a lot of ways.

The whole reason that this website exists is because I had children.

The whole reason I do what I do now is because I had children.

The reason I have some of the most soul connected friends I have, is because I had children.

But having children was so suck arse for me in the early days!

Having children absolutely sucked arse for me in the beginning. It bit so hard. So hard  that I was sure I was breaking.

And on reflection, I think I did.

I did break.

Those of you who know my story, know that I was dropped into the new would of parenting at like full speed. A

In Feb 2005 I was pregnant. In March 2005, I was not.

In April 2005 I was pregnant again.

Within 3 months I rode the upward journey on the rollercoaster of elation to be pregnant with a baby. A little baby that my partner and I had created all by ourselves, somehow.

We rode the fast decent on the rollercoaster when we learned that our little baby didn’t actually have a heart beat.

“It’s totally common” they said. “1 in 4 pregnancies end like this”. “At least you can fall pregnant”, I was told.

Well fuck. Yes, but I lost our little baby!

6 weeks later, those same symptoms I had experienced the first time came back. Could I be pregnant already?

Yes.

And up goes the rollercoaster.

I decide that I would leave my job that I had to travel over 2 and half hours each day in the car to get to and from. A tough decision. But I wanted a healthy baby, and I could start again after the baby.

6 weeks later, a visit to the loo left me in fragments again. Blood. So much blood. Blood you just do not want to see when you are pregnant.

Fuck.

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And the rollercoaster heads south again and I just wanted the fuck off it. This is not fun.

I call the doctor and say I am not coming in for my scan, “I’ve lost another baby, I sob”!

Gently, the receptionist reassures me and we venture in.

Rollercoaster off the rails.

I don’t want to look at that fucking screen again and see no heart beat. I’d rather not thank you very much.

Again, gently lead, I lay down. Not breathing. Not looking. Not really there.

The gel. The scan.The wooshy sounds.

I still can’t breathe.

And then I hear it.

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. A whoosh that I knew was a little heart.

In inhale deeply and turned my head to see a little thing on the screen and a little flicker happening inside it.

“It’s alive?” I say through the tears?

“Yes, you have a baby in there for sure”.

And the tears fell. The relief. The rollercoaster back on the rails and slowly moving forward, ever so slowly.

Dr B keeps exploring the space where the baby lives.

Silent.

Intrigued.

I could feel something else was there.

I looked intently with him.

“There is something else I can see in your uterus with the baby. I’ll need to send you off for a more accurate scan”.

What do you mean something else? What the fuck do you mean?

Not another baby?

Then what the fuck?

And off we go for the next scan.

At this point, I am so out of the rollercoaster. Off it. No more play thanks! Fuck it. I am not feeling any more of this shit.

And numb.

The scan revealed that I had this thing called a sub-chorionic-heamatoma. This is what it looks like.

Basically, I had a bruise in my uterus.

A bruise that would grow as the uterus stretched and could in fact rupture and if it did, would take the baby with it.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Right.

Ok.

So, I did what I always had done. I just got on with life…all the while stressing so big that I was going to lose  my baby.

Every time I went to the toilet there was blood. Lots of blood. A thing that as a pregnant women just doesn’t make sense to the brain. It sees danger. It sees bad shit. It sees, something is going to go wrong here.

And I pushed the fear, the terror, the sadness aside and I got on with it.

My partner and I were planning a wedding, building a house. I had to get on with it.

And get on with it I did…and it isn’t until later, the truth of the experience bubbled up…and when it did….I was sure I was breaking…..

[see you next week for part 2]