I am a daughter of a mother who, like me, had three girls.
My maternal lineage is full of women. I believe that this is because there is healing work to be done for the women in my family, as well as all the women of humanity.
This is what my work is all about. Teaching mothers of daughters about their sacred female body so that they can embody self-love, self-acceptance, radical self-care, and pass this on to the next generation.
To me, this is true healing.
I grew up with an amazing mother. She provided everything my sisters and I needed – food, shelter, clothes, good education and many other needs.
We were her project and she sacrificed everything for us – her career, health, hobbies, fun, relationships with other women, and so much more.
As a result, I thought that’s what you do to be a “good” woman, wife and mother.
At age 26, when I first became a mom, I thought I had had everything I needed to become the mom I wanted to be.
I wanted to be a patient, confident, honoring, sweet and nice mom for my kids and stay a loving, attentive and sexy wife and lover for my husband.
That was the fantasy.
In reality, I’ve become a tired, irritable, bitter, unsatisfied, resentful, dry, uninspired and unmotivated woman.
Every day was a drag.
Every day I had to force myself out of bed, take care of logistics (food, household, laundry, etc) and couldn’t wait to go to bed again.
During these days of my mothering journey, let’s just say that it wasn’t fun to be around me.
Very quickly I realized that raising a child is not only hard physically, it is also challenging mentally, emotionally and spiritually.
It was like my life split into two at the moment I became a mom.
There was my life before kids and then there was my life after kids.
In that process, I have lost myself or who I thought I was.
In the space of ten years I gave birth to three girls and the more kids I had, the less connected to myself I felt.
I doubted and judged myself and my abilities as a mom constantly.
Was afraid of speaking my truth (the years of cultural conditioning I have acquired as a Russian Jew didn’t make it any easier).
Desperate, I looked to my mom and tried to learn from her how to cope with challenges in life and realized that she, just like me, has been disconnected from herself for the majority of her adult life.
There was something missing deep within her. I realized that she is deeply driven by a fear of her own true power.
For her, this manifested in people pleasing, deep self-sacrifice, obsessive pursuit of perfection, the constant questioning of herself, and years of self-neglect.
She was always looking outside of herself for confirmation of her worth and value.
My definition of Embodiment is feeling connected to your body, humanity, spirit and soul as a woman, wife and mother.
It’s the knowing of who you are and what you were brought here to do. It’s that which sparks joy, pleasure, grit and the desire to wake up each morning to create, build, help and do for others.
The more mature I got, the more I started noticing this all around me – older and wiser women were struggling with fear, indecision, self-doubt, control, self-sabotage, boundaries, stating their needs, emotional immaturity, and playing small.
Dis-embodied women were all around me (and my daughters)!
- Women, who didn’t understand how their female body is designed.
- Women who’ve felt like being a woman is a curse, not a blessing.
- Women, who’ve self-neglected themselves physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually for decades (if not centuries, epigenetically speaking).
As I grew into a woman, this started to show up in my life. I didn’t feel alive and whole within myself.
Pregnancy, motherhood, wifehood… they were all traumatizing because I didn’t know how to keep up.
I felt like a panting dog, or like I couldn’t rise above the water to breathe and was suffocating in the overwhelm, long to-do lists, checkmarks, and everyone’s needs and wants.
I felt dispersed and diluted.
Bottom line – I didn’t know how to take care of myself.
There was this deep sense that something was missing.
On the physical level, I started saying things like:
“I hate my fat arms”
“I hate my post-baby pooch”
“I hate my huge butt”
“I hate my enormous scarred belly”
“I hate what these pregnancies have done to me!”
“Motherhood destroyed me”
“ I want my pre-baby body back”
“I hate feeling like a stuffed-up sausage”
“I don’t have any energy or life force in my body left for me!”
On a deeper, emotional level I started keeping myself busy just to survive, to get through another uninspiring day. The chatter, the noise in my head and the unbearable sense of overwhelm, fatigue, low libido, low energy, lack of joy and deep sadness were all soothed by doing mundane and uninspiring things like cleaning the house, laundry, cooking healthy and elaborate meals for my family, and worst of all isolating myself from everyone and everything. I’ve sacrificed every bit of myself to feel like a good mom and wife.
Ironically, during this time of my life, I felt the most disconnected from my daughters, husband, and community.
This game of “house” was falling apart.