I’ve spent the bulk of the last two months resting. Or trying to rest. Or, maybe better put, being taken on a wild ride as I explore what has caused a year’s worth of insomnia.
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Desperation set it. Fear. I dreaded nighttime. I never knew what was going to come. Nothing I did ever consistently helped. I was often in tears of desperation, afraid of sleep, afraid of the next day.
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I’m in your head. I know you think you can’t trust your body and yourself.
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I know that you, too, have grown up in a culture that has taught you to downplay and disregard your deep needs. If you are a mother, you can add the complicating fact that your children have legitimate needs that often interfere with your own. I know how tempting it is to be low-maintenance, low-needs, last in line. Having worked with hundreds of women, I can tell you that it doesn’t work. You’ll never be able to truly get better, feel safe or create the life you desire by being last in line.
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This year’s Mother’s Day was epic. Somewhat terrifyingly so. I thought it was going to be a regular Mother's Day hike. A few miles. A few lizards. Lunch by the Rio Grande. But on the way back, quite a ways in the lead of the rest of the family, I walked right up to a rattlesnake, head raised, rattles a'rattling, ready to strike. I was just several feet away. With a baby on my back
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