SELF HELP ME.

More than a few times I’ve shared my affinity for self-help books. They adorn every corner of the house and have guided me through a journey within that has grown me in countless ways. I’m able to truly revert my gaze inward when having any sort of emotional dilemma. It might take me a minute, but I now get there each time without fail. Before, I’d have admonished whoever was crossing my path, or the world at large, rather than ascribe blame to self. It’s a trip that’s far from over, but this ability to separate my soul from my ego enough to be introspective and detached (which didn’t come painlessly) is a gift I’d never part with. Responsibility delivers power.

We spend a lot of time trying to change those around us, but the only metamorphosis we can exact is our own.

This inner focus might seem self-absorbed, but I’d like to posit that every Earthly problem would be moot if we could each take a long hard look at ourselves instead of everyone and everything around us. If it’s not self- serving, internally progressive, there’s not really any service happening at all. The advancement of humanity happens with one soul at a time and right now, yours is all you’ve got.

Identify your deep down fears and how you camouflage them. Did you sign up for a marriage that is drama laden, that helps you avoid you? Are you fighting other people’s battles so you can avoid fighting the battle teeming within you? Are you surrounding yourself with friends who can’t get their shit together so you can invest in them instead of you? Did you make babies so you could take care of anyone but you? Are you pouring yourself into your career to keep from exploring the inner workings of you? There are noble causes galore to hurl ourselves into, but are these also functioning as distractions from the fundamental and often painful business that needs to happen inside?

We arrive here, circumnavigate specific childhoods, catered to the growth of our soul’s desires, and then do everything in our power to bury our wounds instead of mend them. Today, it’s easier than ever. There are a steadily growing number of distractions. Soul work usually doesn’t come about unless we’re maneuvering through unexpected tragedy, like death, divorce, or mental illness, when it’s forced upon us because we literally can’t function or fake it anymore. But, it doesn’t have to be birthed from that. It’s not intended to be… this is just a construct of our busy- worshipping world. Put a band-aid on and get moving.

So, how do you begin this inner journey of accountability and questioning?

You make time to go within.

You look at everything and everyone important in your life and ask yourself what the hell the point is. I don't mean that to sound callous or trivial, but everything is serving some underlying need within, whether positive or negative. You delve into each aspect of your day that you devote time to and say why. What’s in it for you? What are you learning that your soul needs… or what are you avoiding? You could be doing some really beautiful stuff that is functioning as total avoidance of your soul work. You strip yourself of all that you think (or everyone else thinks) is good or special about you and you look at the raw person in the mirror and find the pain. Every time you feel something unpleasant, you ask yourself what about you is creating that. Every time you invite someone or something into your life, you ask what little girl you is looking for in this? If you feel angry, you ask yourself what about you is breeding that. Each time you feel compelled to throw yourself into something, you ask what internal inadequacy that is feeding or distracting from. When you say/think something negative or judgmental about someone or something, you ask yourself what you don’t love about you that is building animosity or resentment towards another. What quality do they possess that you aren't owning or wish you were? You break it down and then you rebuild it.

Observe, analyze, and seek understanding. This doesn’t have to lead to a systemic failure or overhaul. The goal is detachment from the self, from ego, to see yourself through an unfiltered lens. It should ultimately feel casual after some practice and be without a hint of self-judgment. You aren’t berating yourself, you’re knowing yourself and gently dismissing the parts of you that aren’t soul-serving. I’ve been self-helping for a decade now and just this year have begun banishing self-judgment and shame over my ego-driven feelings. I can now identify the driving force of non-progressive choices or words and have an internal laugh over their ineffectiveness. My mantra has become “oh well, I’ll try to do better next time,” because my current best is all I’ve got, and in spite of my efforts, often times my ego wins out.

Do the world the ultimate favor and self-help yourself. Fulfillment lies on the other side of fear.

-Angi

SHOWING UP- Moving Beyond Judgment, Pain, and Fear.

This past year, although not rife with tangible metamorphosis, has been one of great internal change. Almost two years ago, we moved out of state and I began my journey into stay at home motherhood. That was a year of transition and acclimation. This year has been about personal exploration. It began with feelings of self-assurance that slowly devolved into self-doubt and insecurity.

The inception of Mindful + Mama started on a higher note, with support from friends in the form of verbal positive reinforcement. That eventually waned even though readership did not. If I were advising anyone else sharing my thoughts and insecurities, I’d tell them that this is of no consequence. Fanfare for a blog is destined to become old news. That’s a natural phenomenon for anything. It doesn’t relate to whether or not it’s successful, being read, or appreciated. After one year of writing, we’re a fixture, expected.

I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t writing for accolades, but it turns out that was a bit of a lie. Endeavor as I may to separate from ego, I was failing. Not knowing how people felt about each blog was riddling me with doubt and insecurity. When I took my month of “soul-solitude,” I found massive relief in not being up on the chopping block I imagined myself. I’m incredibly vulnerable and personal in my writing because it’s so important to me that we remember we aren’t ever alone, a feeling I’d wrongly clung to in earlier years. We all struggle with different versions of the same challenges. But that level of vulnerability, without any feedback, was eating away at belief in myself. The little girl in me was questioning if she was good enough.

I decided to give up.

I conjured lots of personally acceptable reasons to do so, things that didn’t leave me questioning my insecurity surrounding the decision. It was effective enough to remove my desire to put pen to paper.

Simultaneous to all of this unfolding, I was having personal struggle with friendships, feeling in subtle ways as though I wasn’t important to or understood by people I cared for, women I thought I was close to who had been in my life for years. It seemed as though all but a few friendships crumbled away in the span of months, for reasons unbeknownst to me and in a variety of manners- a situation I was unfamiliar with. Already a relative newbie to town, I couldn’t emotionally afford those losses. The deluge of self-doubt I incurred, experiencing the onslaught at once, really shook me. I’m a giver by nature, it’s how I show my love and appreciation, and I innately close in on myself when things aren’t reciprocated or I'm misunderstood. More questioning, more looming inadequacy. The desire to protect my heart via inaction was greater than ever. Sharing myself with others wasn't an option.

Feeling alone, judged, hurt, unworthy, and insecure does not a confident writer make.

But I don’t have to be perfect to share my feelings, my lessons, my strife. Today, I opened “Light is the New Black” by Rebecca Campbell, to the chapter entitled “Show Up and Shine.” All of this blog business had been heavy on my mind and this book has been a special gift lately, an oracle of sorts. I only pick it up when compelled and the words that pour forth are exactly what I need in the moment, every time. The Universe shows up for you when you promise to have faith, when you vow to look for the lesson, when you choose progress and responsibility in the midst of pain. Here’s what it said:

          “The thing with you is that you are waiting for some kind of permission to share your message. You’re waiting to be invited to               some invisible table, to some imaginary club. There is no table, there is no club. The only approval you need to seek is your                 own. Don’t assume your message isn’t relevant until someone else says it is. Don’t assume your message isn’t relevant until                 someone else deems it to be. It is relevant. It needs to be told. Stop holding yourself back.”

         “Tears began streaming down my face as I realized that I had been holding myself back, waiting for some kind of external p                  permission before I shared my gifts. I was seeking approval from an external force that didn’t even exist… I made a pact with                myself. I would stop focusing on getting published and instead focus on showing up to my writing every day.”

         “After all, I love writing; it’s what lights me up – why would I wait to do what lights me up? I vowed not to give a f**k what other              people thought of my creations. If they didn’t like it, well, I’m not for them and they’re not for me. So I committed to allowing my            message to flow through me as it always had without knowing where it would lead. Regardless of the fear. Especially because            of the fear.”

         “So I’ve decided that it’s none of my business who reads my writing, only that I show up and write… All I know is that if I don’t                show up and write, I will feel uncomfortable in my skin, and the niggling feeling and the ache will never let up.”

         “Writing is how I unravel my thoughts. It’s none of my business if it’s a bestseller, or if only one person reads it. Only that I show            up and shine my light. And so, now my affirmation… has changed to ‘I show up and shine my light as far as God sees fit.”

         “This small shift has changed everything. Since then the writing process has been the most fulfilling experience of my life. I                  cannot wait to wake up every day, fire up my Mac, and let my soul sing.”

         “It doesn’t matter how far our light shines, only that we shine it.”

         -Excerpt from “Light is the New Black,” Rebecca Campbell

You can show up and shine at whatever makes your heart sing.

And so, here I am, showing up. For myself. For my love of words and the growth they gift me, whether read or not.

As far as bygone friendships go, it's still a bit of a mystery, but I recognize that I’m leveling up and making space for women who can show up from the place that I do, with offerings that will feed my soul. I open my arms to the pain of loss and the glory of possibility, because I know each closed door beckons another to open.

-Angi

COMPARISON AS A THIEF OF JOY? MAYBE NOT.

Through my back legs, I can see her, one knee balancing effortlessly on her elbow, ponytail gracefully suspended in space, legs extended mid-air, like scissors ready to slice through the atmosphere. Lithe muscles flexing, her perfectly executed side crow demonstrates dedication and likely, years of practice. A drop of sweat hits my mat as I take a deep inhalation.

On my fifth day of hot power yoga, there are moves that I can’t maneuver and moments when I feel like a poser amidst these bendy yogis. As I try to balance my knees upon my elbows, my toes awkwardly touch the mat at irregular intervals, arms gently shaking. Even the elderly woman next to me is firmly rooted in her crow. I wonder how many people notice my misplaced feet and wobbly posture. Maybe I felt a touch of pretension when I unrolled my Target yoga mat, adorned with small chunks pecked away by tiny fingernails... glances in my direction and then quickly off into space.

Shooing away the insecurity with my next exhalation, I remind myself that they once were me and take note of how blessed I am to be here. In spite of a decade-long desire to start a true yoga practice (that wasn’t the result of a YouTube query) the stars had never aligned for me until now, and it was instant addiction on day one.

Instead of shrinking beneath the talent in the room, I find myself inspired. I want that for myself, and with each glance around, I feel empowered to push a little harder.

We’re told not to compare ourselves to others, not to want what others have, but I’m calling bullshit on that notion. There’s a time and a place.

Without comparison, how do we know how much further we can go? When a friend mentions an accomplishment, I’m reminded of my own capacity. When I watch a mother with her children, I take mental notes, using them to improve my own parenting. If handled appropriately, comparison can serve as motivation towards self-improvement. Most feats of greatness are considered unachievable until they’re achieved, and then many follow in their footsteps, pushing the bar further still.

Stagnation is the byproduct of never letting your eye wander to the girl next to you, of not trying the new healthy eating routine your friend feels like a million bucks on, of not attempting that book you always dreamed of writing.

The line gets drawn in the sand when your self-worth is hinged upon how you’re perceived by others. Make sure it’s progress that you want for yourself, not of the variety that keeps you in the loop with the cool kids.

Don’t be deterred or deflated by what you can or can’t pull off. The goal isn't to beat yourself up, but to use comparative inspiration to propel you forward. Try and try again. Tell yourself you can do it, and if you can’t right now, know yourself well enough to call it a day. Sometimes our plates are just plain full. You’re good enough exactly as you are in this moment, worthy of all the Love the world has to offer.

Having said that, part of Self-Love comes with pushing forward, getting a little uncomfortable, having enough confidence to challenge yourself, to believe in what you’re capable of, and being willing to give it an effort. Look fear square in the eye and then push past it, because you know how damn great you’ll feel when you do.

Growth is one of the most loving things we can do for ourselves.

So, I look over to her again, as she rounds the class out with a headstand, feet to the sky, shoulders harnessing massive amounts of energy, while the rest of us roll up our mats. True to the spirit of Namaste, I see my future self in her, heart already swollen with pride.

-Angi

40 IN FOREVER 21- Coming to grips with the process that is aging.

The checkout girl, no more than 20, looks up at me. I'm not sure if it’s the lines around my eyes, the weary look of parental defeat, my inability to follow the credit card machine prompts, or my pile of washable cotton basics, and she says, “are all your kids at school today?”

A punch to the gut. Here I am, a 40 year old, in Forever 21. I’d previously failed to notice that everyone around me is 20 years my junior and every shirt is a crop top with some ridiculous bold phrase, “allergic to mornings,” “babes do it better,” “made in the nineties.” Ugh, or seventies. I struggle to find anything wearable in the store that used to be my cheap girl Mecca. It's been a few years since I set foot in the place, I’m now three kids deep and a stay at home mom instead of a hairstylist. At least when I did hair, style was an expectation. I was excused from the pragmatism of mom wear, because I was repping a hip industry.

For the first time, I’m self conscious of my presence here, painfully aware that I've passed an age threshold. I still feel like the 21 year old that wore risqué trends and walked around bare bellied like she owned the place. There are moments when my current life seems like a dream that I've stepped into, as if I woke to a house full of kids after a long night at the bar. Who even is this girl? And, can I call myself a girl anymore?

Sometimes it feels dispiriting to think about the excitement that I'll never have again, to be aware that parts of my life are now completely known, no mystery as to how the story ends. No day dreaming about my future house or children or husband, loved as they may be. They're here now. We’re living it. That girl is someone to reminisce upon, her adventures things of the past. I allow a twinge of sadness as I say adieu to her, the uncharted possibilities she encompassed, walking out of Forever 21 for what will likely be the last time.

I'm forced to recognize that when I was her and she was me, she was an unknown to even herself, fumbling through life and love, making mistakes left and right, assuming she knew it all. She was uncomfortable in her own skin, experimenting with ways of being, trying to find her self worth, her identity, approval. She was selfish, often hurtful with her thoughtless words, impatient and obtuse.

Becoming a parent forced an evolution that could only have occurred through the necessity to focus on people other than myself. Patience and selflessness created a sensitivity that was lacking. I've grown immeasurably because of the permanence that is my family, my responsibility. The loss of freedom and time that goes hand in hand with parenting has created a much stronger woman who prioritizes only the things that matter. I have a resilience to criticism that wouldn't have existed before, because the only opinions that truly matter are contained within the walls of my home.

My youth may be taking leave, but the truth is that the story of my life as a woman is just beginning. I'm more than just a has been buying $4 leggings at Forever 21. I'm creating futures for three beautiful children. I'm crafting the foundation for their youths, carefully curating experiences for them to build upon, opportunities to explore who they are and what they love. I'm busy solidifying identities to instill confidence and worth, exposing them to as much as I can to peak their curiosity and desire for knowledge. What's more, I'll get to witness the excitement that is their 20’s, stumbling from one experience to the next, as they learn themselves.

The day shall come when I'll see myself through their teenage and adult eyes, and I'll unravel all over again, our dynamics teaching me what is and isn't working.

As empty nesters, my husband and I will make ourselves anew in who knows how many ways.

The journey is far from over, an evolution after every season of life. I find myself with tears in my eyes as I think of that 21 year old girl, silly and excitable, naive and bold, searching for her place. But, it is with tears and joy, intertwined, that I picture myself as a 60 year old woman, story more than half written, finale yet to be determined. I adore that these two women will have inhabited the same skin, given breath to so many vastly different adventures, none more or less important than others to the making of a woman, the sculpting of a life. They will have seen through the same eyes, but interpreted what they behold from evolving perspectives, none more right than the last, just differently informed.

And, one day, my daughter will look into the mirror and behold who she was, is and has yet to become. Each layered upon one another, maybe not gone, just within. I guess a part of us will always be forever 21...

-Angi

TIT FOR TAT IN MARRIAGE. WHAT'S IT REALLY ABOUT?

If you've been reading my output, chances are you've got a pretty clear idea about the name of my game: recognizing ineffective methods of operating in your relationships.

Most of us are living on the surface of our lives. This isn't intended to act as an insult. I'm not insinuating that we’re shallow. My observation is that we live busy, over stimulating lives. Our plates are overflowing, and there simply isn't the energy or the excess time to be introspective at the level required to actually understand the motivations behind our ineffective tendencies.

Humility is en vogue right now. Self deprecating humor is everywhere. Unlike our parents’ and grandparents’ generations, admitting our flaws isn't considered a weakness. Acknowledging the problem is the first step, but most of us fail to go beyond that.

We out ourselves and consider the job done. We’re more open about our inadequacies than ever, but identifying your triggers and the origins thereof is a lot to ask when your head is already spinning because you have little people to take care of and a husband to stay connected with, amidst all of life’s other chaos.

Unfortunately, you can expect more of the status quo in your relationships as long as you continue to stop short in your introspection. That fight that you have over and over and over again with your husband, never gonna end.

My real life example: When my husband wants to go do something on his own or with his friends, I have difficulty feeling supportive or glad for his much needed respite from dad and husband life. I've had this issue in previous relationships, when my trust had been betrayed, my bond was shaky, and faith in my partner just didn't exist, which is common for many, thus my bringing it up, but that's not the case with my husband.  

Our scenario has to do with me associating him taking care of his needs with a lack of concern about my own. He knows how worn down I am, how much I do for the kids, how neglected I am, how can he even feel decent about leaving me here to go it alone?

Most of us don't make it past that initial line of thought. We impulsively give him the cold shoulder and maybe have a confrontation about some other thing later on, because we’ve held our feelings in for too long. Or, we have a blow up right then and there about him leaving, and he begrudgingly stays in. You then sit on opposite ends of the couch ignoring each other until you forget what you were pissed off about to begin with, usually the next morning. A good night’s sleep seems to offer temporary amnesia. And your husband, well he doesn't know what the hell even hit him. Men are pretty good at circumnavigating futile emotions, like guilt. Women, well, we like to wear that one like a crown, dangling it for all to see when it suits us.

If I let those feelings sit and don't dig any deeper, which I sometimes do, because I'm tired, and I don't want to think anymore, then I would never realize that the underlying emotion for me is a fear of rejection. If my husband is taking care of his needs and not acknowledging mine, (not exactly accurate, but the mind and heart are often irrational) then he must not appreciate me. If he doesn't appreciate me, does he notice me? Does he love me as much as I love him? Am I worthy of his love, of anyone's love? Oh God, I'm going to be alone… You can go further with this, exploring why those sensations exist. Who did you need to be to feel loved growing up? How did your parents interact? How do you feel about you lately?

The point of this exploration is to own your side of the interaction, instead of thrusting all of the responsibility for your feelings into your partner’s lap. Chances are that there's more to it than meets the eye. If there is a repeated sore spot in your relations with significant people in your life, then there is a deeper underlying issue that’s going to require some psychological excavating.

Start by addressing your basic feelings. Think about the recurring friction. Really try to identify if there is an insecurity for you surrounding this topic. If you're going deep enough, you should notice some discomfort and even embarrassment. Admitting flaws doesn't feel nice. On some level, if you linger in it, you should be able to recognize a fear in there. This is going to vary, based upon the situation at hand, but it generally comes down to a fear of not being worthy of love or a fear of not feeling connected. Fear and Love are the two most basic emotions, they're the foundation for everything else. So, if you're pissed off, there's some fear hiding in there.

Determining your raw sentiments isn't a cure all. You then have to remind yourself of them the next time you feel the desire to do battle. The goal is to be able to talk yourself down from that ledge, because you know how irrational the interaction is. It helps me to also remember that my husband is fighting his own inner demons, and we’re both just trying to protect our hearts from pain and loss; noble causes, indeed.

None of it’s going to come easy. It's all work, but so is the drudgery of endless bickering turned silent treatment, on repeat. You can move beyond that one argument and maybe tear the band aid off another festering wound that needs mending, slowly working through heartaches and fears of years’ past, becoming a fierce team united and persevering in love, a true force to be reckoned with.

-Angi