The other day I packed up six relatively new, gently used bras and sent them off to The Bra Recyclers, an organization that provides bras and underwear to women and girls in transitional programs and shelters who lack belongings and safety. When I purchased them this past fall I had no idea that come March 3, I'd no longer have breasts. While I don't miss wearing them, I had a pang when I put those bras in that box. They were really pretty. They, and others like them, were a part of my identity for five decades! I wouldn't call it grief...it was more like marking the end of an era, and an identity, which, weirdly came with a mind blowing realization: I am no longer trying to solve for worthiness. No sooner had those words settled into my bones, I came across a Facebook post by Michelle Obama: "Finally, I can say that I'm good enough. I know that might be surprising to hear, but it's true. It's just taken me some time — and some therapy — to believe it." I have long understood that worthiness is made up and that identity isn't fixed. I have long understood that healing and growth happen slowly over time and then all at once. From head to heart to body. It doesn't happen on a schedule, it doesn't happen by force or coercion...it's what happens when we are intentional about our identities rather than letting shame decide who we are. “There are very few human beings who receive the truth, complete and staggering, by instant illumination. Most of them acquire it fragment by fragment, on a small scale, by successive developments, cellularly, like a laborious mosaic.” ~ Anais Nin Come work with me on this. I'm good at it. Much, much love, Karen In this picture (taken in January) I am wearing one of those pretty bras underneath my clothes :-) |
Founder of Shame School and author of You Are Not Your Mother: Releasing Generational Trauma & Shame and Difficult Mothers, Adult Daughters: A Guide for Separation, Liberation & Inspiration
“She said, you met a lot of hurt people who wanted you to feel the same/you used to tune them out, but now/in the quiet corners of your day/you regurgitate all of the negative opinions they used to throw your way…” ~ poet Rebecca Dupas What her brilliance here. Much, much love, Karen We slay that dragon in Shame School. Get on the wait list.
I received many responses to "when your mother hates you" and wanted to share this one: "...it goes both ways. It's only human of us to hate them sometimes, too. I actually made an ENORMOUS stride of progress a couple months ago when I admitted to myself I was feeling hatred toward my mother. I was in an awful but all too familiar moment of anger and frustration towards her, and I can't remember if I said it out loud to myself or just in my head, but the words were, "I hate her." Immediately...
She was celebrating a significant career achievement at a large public event where she would be honored and where she was keynote speaker. As she was leaving the hotel suite where colleagues, friends, and family had gathered prior to the event, her mother, who was behind her, yelled out: "You know...you look fat in that dress!" She froze. Then had the wherewithal to turn and say, her voice taut with pain, "MOTHER!" before rushing to a restroom where she cried as a friend consoled her. Later,...