1 7 w e e k s + 3 d a y s

It’s only 8 am, so I am not entirely sure how I feel today. I do know that after putting a voice to how I feel on social media, and hearing the responses of humans, I feel not only a whole lot less alone, a whole lot less crazy, but something in me simply feels softer.

I feel can feel what's under my rage + anger a little better; I can feel the fear thats bubbling, the 1000 forms of fear that lay at the base of my subconscious, the faces of fear that attempt to rule my existence, hijack my thoughts, and run my light into darkness.

When I get really honest about self, I am truthfully surprised at the amount of fear that resides in my core.

It’s the fear that tells me that God kills what I love; it’s the fear that tells me that I am not equipped for the level of love I receive from the man I married; it’s the fear that tells me I am not good enough, I will fuck it all up, and that this light is not the life for me. It’s a fear that tells me over, and over, and over again that my life is a mistake, that my purpose is meaningless, and that I will be a nobody for all of the days that I walk this earth.

I suspect that it’s the vast amount of change that has occurred over these past few months that has the ego part of self in pure panic.

I’m in a new city, and a new country - with a totally different climate. I am living with the man who I love, but we had a long distance relationship prior to the big move here - this is a wildly hard adjustment for me. I believe that pregnancy has thrown me for a loop - it’s new, frightening, and totally uncharted territory. All that, and I must reminder also that I am still only a little more than 2 years sober - I am still a toddler, I have no idea how to do this sober life and all it entails.

As fear bubbles on the deepest levels, I feel myself slip into a state of anger, rage, righteousness. I become sharp + spicy. I do not laugh, I can not find the magic. I can not stand who I become, and it seems that no matter how much self-awareness I have, I can not stop the spiral. It’s insane. I am insane. All I want to do when I feel this way is run for the hills.

My deepest programing tells me to ‘fuck everything and run’, that is my response to fear. I am learning to stay, I am learning to fall to my knees in prayer as I - sometimes gracefully and sometimes reluctantly - hand my will over to my higher power.  God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.

Everyone is always saying “it’s going to be ok”, but the truth for me is that I do not know that it will be ok, I really don’t. I have a baseline mistrust in the very fabric that this universe is made of, and I am working daily at establishing a connection with this universe, I am diligent in my pursuit to increase my conscious contact with God.

It’s a totally painful crossroads for me - I know that my will fails every single time. My will run riot, leaves me scheming and planning, it’s impodles in my face, it severs my connection to source, and it leaves me hopeless and disappointment. My will leaves me in a state of fear, followed by a brilliant parade of character defects like pride, anger, indignant attitudes, that I can not live by. My inner brain becomes an existence of hell.

So what choice do I have?

Surrender.

That’s it.

God doesn't play fair. Me playing God clearly does not work. So I just have to force myself to my knees as many times through the day as it takes until I find myself where my heart resides today - a little softer, a little more willing, a little less rigid.

These were the very teachings the cosmos had for me in early sobriety when the forest fire of my life lit ablaze and I had never experienced such grief in all my life. I didn't know in those days if it would be ok, I didn't know if I would survive, I wasn't sure if the pain would kill me, or if I would end it myself. I just didn't know. I didn't know how I would get through, I didn't know how I would stay sober, and I certainly didn't know how I would ever heal, laugh, or feel joy again.

So I followed the steps lined out before me.

I got down on my knees daily. I prayed. I said that damn serenity prayer 72 000 times/day. I stayed diligent and close to my sobriety work. I took the next indicated step and remained disciplined as to not future trip, or wander down paths of nostalgia. I stayed here in today. I stayed with the pain, I didn't scratch the itch. I was willing for grief to take me, to teach me, to kill me - I was wholeheartedly open to life’s lessons. I had no reservation of any kind. I knew it was do or die for me.

It took a long time before joy came to my life. It was many-a-day of grief stricken pain, pain with such enormity that I failed to see a way out. I didn't necessarily believe in the steps I was taking, I didn't believe that my higher power was a good one, but I knew that my will ended me up in the mess I was in. I knew I had to do it different.

Amazingly enough, the clouds did part. I gained a faith that was unlike anything I had ever known in my life. I found peace, and joy, and contentment.

I stayed sober.

And now here I am - different situation, same fucking fears! How wild is that? I think last time I had 2% faith, but life proved to me that this work works, life has shown me the way. Today I think I have about 17% faith (all 17% of it is being tested viciously right now) and so although this is wildly painful and uncomfortable, I know the path to navigate this.

It’s not about negating the pain.

It’s not about making rainbows when life is just stormy, the rainbows will come in due time, but 1st I must ride the storm, I have to sail the turbulent seas; for me that looks like handing the helm over to my higher power and opening my hands and ears to receive instruction from the captain. This is not my ship, I am not the captain, and I have no idea where we are going- but when I can surrender the wheel, when I can become teachable and willing, we sail to marvelous places.

I guess this is what faith means. I guess it means that when encapsulated in stormy seas, when one cannot see a break in the clouds or land in site that we do what we have been told: we surrender. I guess the works part in the “faith without works is dead” is just that - remaining open especially when the ship appears that it is about to capsize. I guess the down and dirty work is all about staying present to the storm, here in the today, and ever-connected to … source.

I don’t know.

Who knows!

The ship may well go down, but as a self-proclaimed poor sea woman I will remain next to the helm, listening to the captain for the next best step.

It’s the only chance I have.


only love - k

1 7 w e e k s + 1 d a y

I continue to speak with fierce honesty about my human experience because it is healing for me to share and I kid you not, every.single.time I share the shadow side someone reaches out and says "me too."

That someone who says "me too" usually failed to have the vocal ability to share their experience - out of shame, fear, guilt.

It is almost as if it is only acceptable to share our human journeys if they are tightly wrapped in a bow if they are easy to be shared if they ensure the comfort of all who bare witness. We seem to only be allowed to share the experiences that fit the model of how we "should" feel - grateful, happy, lovely.

My truths are raw, they are often deeply uncomfortable to share + to hear; I know my truths make others squirm. I also know that my truths are the same truths so many others have, I just happen to be born into a soul that refuses to stay quiet - I seem to have been programmed to share.

Yesterday I used the word 'hate' to describe my feelings toward the experience of pregnancy.

I know, I know, the world thinks 'hate' is awfully strong, and the world likes to tell us to 'tone it down', 'make it easier to hear'.

This morning a woman suggested that I walk through the neonatal unit, she suggested that 'hate' is a strong word and that although she admires me, she was praying that 'my mindset changes'.

Nothing like a good dose of shaming our fellow humans for the truth they experience.

If I am at the dinner table and I am full, me choosing to ignore my human experience of 'full' to 'eat my plate because there are starving children in the world' makes no sense. Me being full does not take away from my compassion for others, or my gratitude for what I have on my plate.

Me hating the experience of pregnancy doesn't take away my connection to god, it doesn't diminish my value as a woman and a mother-to-be, and it certainly doesn't negate my gratitude.

So here is the thing:

We all walk a human path, and that path is not always lined with ribbons, and cotton candy, and sweet little elves of positivity. Sometimes our path is shrouded in darkness, pain, despair. Sometimes 'hate' is a perfectly perfect way to describe the path.

Please do not sit back on the throne of your own values, hopes, fears, experiences + self-righteous attitudes and judge someone else's human experience.

We all have a right to feel exactly as we feel and the level of shame for one another's human experience has got to diminish if we are to heal as a whole.

I stand by 'hate' as my current experience, and I am here to tell you that when I 'love' I will stand by that with just as much fierceness. It might be dark right now, but that doesn't mean I need to shrink my experience to make you comfortable.

This is what my human path looks like right now.


only love,

k



1 7 w e e k s

Acceptance doesn’t mean we have to like it, in fact ‘liking it’ has nothing to do with it.

We can hate it + still find grace;

we can loath it + still find gratitude.

We do not need to pressure the self to wrap uncomfortable human situations in pretty little bows + tell ourselves to “enjoy the ride” because ‘others think we should’.

That’s not real, not authentic, not self-loyal.

There is nothing wrong with you for not liking pieces of your human experience - nothing al all.

We can accept that which we do not like; we can care for the self through the trials and tribulations;

we can remain self-loyal in the face of discomfort + pain.

Pregnancy, for me, is hell.

Its shit.

I talk about it because this is what’s real for me, it’s my true experience.

I don’t have to like it,

or pretend to be in love with it;

I’m not.

I hate it.

(& yes, I am aware that ‘hate’ is a strong word, and I feel fully truthful in the use of this strong word).

Not all human experiences are fun for all humans, and the truth about this one for me : it’s kicking my ass and testing my faith.

I’ve been sick af,

and hormones are making me actually question my sanity.

I’m losing it.

Legit.

I feel like a bad woman for feeling this way - like something is wrong with me - it’s not how I “should” feel, it’s not how “mothers are”.

And no one talks about the shadow side, and so I feel deeply alone.

If I feel alone, I know so many others are suffering in silence.

This reality is not only my truth, others feel the same!

For all you humans that feel “less than” because you are not emotionally responding “positively” like society says you should ... I see you,

you are not wrong,

or strange,

or weird for how you feel.

The way you feel is right,

it’s right for you.

I’m not ‘less than’ because my experience of growing a human inside of me feels saturated in pain.

And you are not ‘less than’ for experiencing pieces of your life how you feel fit.

We’re all different.

We’re all just trying to human the best we can, and sometimes it’s a treat, and other times it’s shit.

Wherever you are is right.

only love,

k


welcome

Pregnancy is supposed to be a  'magical' + 'wonderful' time of a woman's life, and while it may be for some, my experience teeters into the shadow;

I am failing to meet the 'standard expected emotion' a woman 'should' have.

I am not gushing over the baby growing in my belly, I do not feel emotionally connected, I have been sicker than I have ever been in my life. I don’t care to post baby bump pictures, or plan a nursery. I’m not rushing to the store for cute baby stuff, nor do I find any form of solace in the week-by-week-app-updates that tell me how bing this foreign invader in my body is.

My reaction to this new’s - after being 6 days late for my expected moon blood, and even though this was a thing I wanted and we had in fact been trying for - was one of fear, instant regret, overwhelm, and panic.

A baby? Me, a Mother? How in god's name will a baby fit through my vagina? And what about my life…. is it over?

I thought it was meant to be a time of deep joy?

I thought the tears after seeing the “yep, you’re pregnant” on the pee stick would be tears of great relief, enormous excitement - after-all, this was planned, this was what I wanted.

Why was I so filled with emotions that mismatched the ones all the world always told me I would feel?

Instantly, from the moment I reacted the way I did when i saw the pee-stick-results, I felt as though something was deeply wrong with me. I felt uncontrollable shame + guilt.

2 days later pregnancy symptoms hit me in ways I could have never prepared for. I was bedridden. I was too sick to eat, but too anxious not to eat. The panic I felt was indescribable - not panic about having a baby, but baseline anxiety panic, like the sensation of depression, mental illness, insanity. I was unable to leave the house alone due to crippling anxiety, constant nausea, and the feeling of the worst flu I had ever had. It took me until last week to even be able to enter a grocery store due to the intense smells, all of which made me gag.

I could find almost zero resources that normalized how I felt, that acknowledged the pain I was in. Thank god for my best friend, she went through this very thing, and so I knew deep down I was not alone. But, I also ‘knew’ (because the world insisted to me that this is a magic time) most women - although ‘morning sick’ - continue to work and uphold their daily responsibilities - there was no way in hell I was capable of working, absolutely no way, which made me feel even more guilt + shame.

I am 17 weeks and 1 day pregnant and I still feel horrible. I can not eat vegetables, I am raging with hormones causing shocking waves of unpredictable emotions, I am watching about 5-8 hours of netflix/day, and only last week was I able to start going to the gym. I feel insane, emotionally unstable, unable to get through a day accomplishing any form of ‘normal tasks’, and I’m struggling deeply to find the magic in this all.

It’s been hell.

That’s the truth.

I struggle to find the space to voice these opinions, I struggle to find women who share this experience - and yet, every time I post about it, each time I voice it, women write to me and they say “me too, thank you for sharing, I was too afraid/could not find the words”.

There is just so.much.shame directed at humans for not experiencing life in a way that society says we ‘should’, and this reaches far beyond pregnancy. Life is not black and white, we live in a grey zone and our lenses and experiences vary from human to human - and all of it, every experience, every viewpoint is valid.

I’m here on my blog to document this experience, 1st and foremost because it is healing for me to give it a voice, it’s helpful for me to name my emotions, write about them and place them into the universe. 2nd, I write because I know I am not alone.

I am blown away by the pressure from society that tells women that pregnancy ought to look one particular way, and if we fail to fit into that box, our voices are shamed and shut down.

“Just enjoy it while it’s here” negates another humans experience, shaming the use of statements like “I hate this experience” diminishes another human beings journey. Can we not just find it in ourselves to sit back and curiously, and compassionate hold space for the wide array of human emotions + experiences to be shared, experienced, and communicated?

Pregnancy is not my jam, it’s been one of the hardest experiences I have ever had. But that does not take away from the amount I know I will love this baby, it doesn't make me less of a woman, and it certainly doesn't rob my abilities to be a good Mother. Just because my experience has been dark does not mean I am not also in gratitude, grace and acceptance. My truth, my shadow experience, simply doesn’t make me less than - it’s just an experience, thats all.

Not all experiences are wrapped neatly in a tidy bow; human’ing is tough stuff, and it's dark, and messy, and wild. It doesn't only have to look like rainbows to be valid - shadows, nightmares, discomfort is real, valid, and just as magical as the flipside.

I can't find the resources to normalize my experience, so I am making one.

I know I am not alone.

I am sharing - with radical transparency - what this journey is for me, I am voicing the shadow, breaking the stigma, making room for authenticity.

Thank you for being here.

Only Love,

-k