Shame alert: it can be hard to *like* our neurodiverse children. That feels so shitty.

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And: it's not actually them. They're not actually unlikable. They're not a problem.

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And: it's not actually you. You're not actually a selfish, poorly regulated, failing parent. You're not a problem.

I feel I have become more adequate in letting myself be what I am. It becomes easier for me to accept myself as a decidedly imperfect person, who by no means functions at all times in the way in which I would like to function. The curious paradox is that when I accept myself as I am, then change. -Carl Rogers

Which is why I love this quote by Martín Prechtel: 

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Because the human is not built to be totally healthy, we are all in a continual process of healing.  

stories are rhizomatic.

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you can always connect to a different ending, a different meaning.

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don't get trapped in story.

And the system wants my death in a way. It wants to extract from me, use me up, then dispose of me. It definitely wants my death more than it wants my aliveness.

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And so my dread and my sense of being hunted, makes beautiful, exquisite sense. In one way. (And there are many more ways).

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My unthinkable thought is, that if the system wants me to die, then of course there is a part or multiple parts in me that just want to surrender to the death. That want to say, fine, if this is what you want, let's get it over with. They want to align, take the path of least resistance. Of course. It makes sense.

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And I want to let those parts know I see them, and I want to honor their deathwish. It makes sense to me. And so, if there are parts in my internal ecosystem that want to die, how do I honor and facilitate their dying?

We *must* go into our animal bodies, the wild irrational, and even, at times, our cave spaces if we wish to de-feralize the chthonic, tentacular knowings

A mother's day musing:

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Reading Martin Shaw: "As I have aged, I assess myself more by what I was able to put down for the good of others than by what I have amassed. I remain incomplete, I understand lack."

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This idea of lack and incompleteness as the things to be with, instead of chasing abundance (ugh this word, almost as bad as manifestation) or even, even, even "sufficiency."

We live in layers of double binds - trapped by things (thoughts, emotions, behaviors) that both cause and relieve suffering, that both prevent and provide well-being.

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To approach these double binds, and set to them, this is magical work. Or rather, magician's territory. More and more often, as I deepen into this work, I keep getting impressions of Houdini.

Pathmaker, there is no path,

You make the path by walking.

By walking, you make the path…

- Antonio Machado

Reminded now of a Martin Shaw quote: When we prematurely claim doom we posit dominion over the miraculous. We could weave our grief to something more powerful than that. Possibility.

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And I sense the truth of this: Grief is not capitulating to doom. It is watering possibility. It is clearing the way for the miraculous.

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I invite you to grieve. I invite you to consider that part of the medicine for this particular condition we find ourselves and the earth in, is grief.

Example of an emotional knowing: The implication that if something bad is happening to you, you caused it somehow. Knowing that if you ask for help, you'll be questioned and blamed first.

This is a PSA to ME:

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Here's a little self-growth shortcut: if you have any type of attachment besides secure (and remember, this is how you show up in relationship STRESS, not in relationship chill) you likely also have self worth stuff to work through.

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They very often come hand in hand.

No one told me that to somatically address my anxiety in a way that actually brought relief, I should breathe faster, not slower.

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I should match the energy of the anxiety with my breath, instead of deny it.

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When we honor and dignify all the pieces of our system, it sets the stage to feel sovereign, to feel sovereignty.

I have this idea where we could all slow the fuck down.

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Spend more time witnessing ourselves. Just being with ourselves. Noticing ourselves. Curiously. Spaciously. Compassionately.

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There's enough in one day, especially in this culture, to have a daily grief practice. To create space daily to grieve. What would explicit daily grief be like?