For much of my life I sought answers outside of myself. I’ve seen countless healers, readers, practitioners, even therapists seeking solutions to pretty much every question you can imagine.
Should we break up? Should I move to another country? What is my soul’s purpose? Will I have a career as a writer? Will I have children? Will I ever feel happy? Do I have an entity? How can I make a difference in the world? Does anything I have to offer matter?
This seeking stemmed from an inborn belief that my sovereignty and worth were not part of me, they had to be worked for, paid for, or granted to me from an external source. My orientation has been out there somewhere, because inside of my body the experiences of pain, loss, fragmentation, and insecurity were too much to navigate on my own. I had limited access to an internal compass that I could trust or rely on despite having a wildly accurate sixth sense. I’m not talking about being able to feel what others are feeling from trauma, but the gift of precise intuition that was passed down from the women in my lineage. Unfortunately, for myself and many women I know, this gift was gas lit in my formative years and silenced through our culture. I learned that it was better to keep it hidden. Stay quiet. Swallow my truth. This led to a great deal of confusion and suffering in my life as the practice of overriding my internal compass became second nature.
Rather than trust what my body knows, what my intuition feels, I looked outside for external guidance which often took me to places, relationships, and jobs that were not in alignment. Of course, not every aspect of my life was misaligned, and not every relationship I entered was terrible. I had many beautiful, expansive, and meaningful experiences along the way. I also struggled in some abusive relationships, navigated various forms of addiction, and continued to feel, even in moments of “success” and achievement, that something was off. That I couldn’t quite trust the accomplishment. That I didn’t fully deserve it.
In my life today this unsteady self-worth shows up as the belief that if I could sell 60,000 books, then I will be a good writer. If I weighed what I did before I had kids, then I will feel better. If I net a certain profit at the end of the year than I will have value. In the past I have hired business coaches to tell me how to sell my work and as you might imagine, nothing they shared made my business do all the things they said it would because none of that was ever the answer.
None of the answers have ever been out there someplace else.
As far as I have traveled seeking answers to my life’s questions, they were never there. Not in Italy. Not in Peru. Not in my hometown. Not in any place in between.
The common thread in all my seeking, in all of the dots that connect the story of my life is me. I am the thread. I have the answers. As terrifying as that is to admit and as deeply uncomfortable as that is to reckon with, it is what I feel in my heart as I write. It’s where I’ve landed after hours of writing, tending to each part that surfaced so that I could arrive here.
I am the thread.
The answers are woven into the fabric of my inherent worthiness, something that I am just beginning to scratch the surface of in mid-life. God that is both humbling and embarrassing to share. But I know it’s the reason so much of what I have on the outside never feels like enough. It’s the reason I fall into the comparison trap more often than I feel comfortable sharing. It’s the reason boundaries remain challenging for me.
In therapy last month I brought up my struggle to set boundaries with our kids at bedtime, specifically Solomon, 5 and Zen, 2.
I am going from 0 to 100 at warp speed when I am trying to set boundaries with them, I told my therapist. I go from setting the boundary to anger. From please go to bed to GET IN THE BED RIGHT NOW!
He looked at me with deep compassion. After a long breath he offered, Ashley, the issue is that you aren’t setting boundaries, the issue is that you are trying to put out fires.
Exhale.
I sat for a few minutes and thought about the moments where I exploded at my kids around nap or bedtime because they were pushing back on going to sleep. When I looked back at those times my body burned with shame. This is not how I want to show up with them, especially around sleep. It took me birthing Solomon to be able to feel safe sleeping. The last thing I want to do is create stress of any kind for our kids when it comes to dropping down into a state of rest.
After a few cycles of breath, I brought myself back to present time. I looked at my therapist. I am trying to set my boundaries way too late, I said. I am trying to set them when I am already frustrated which is why my system goes to anger so quickly. And then to rage.
Yes, he responded with a smile.
Also, I continued, when I attempt a boundary from frustration, my kids feel it immediately and it always goes sideways. They don’t feel safe in those moments because my frustration is disembodied. Part of me disassociates in the frustration and that scares them.
My therapist then came in with his keen observation and understanding of my history and nervous system offering, each time you externalize your authority, your children internalize it. What they need is for you to be the leader, so they don’t have to be.
Deeper exhale and a stream of tears running down my cheeks.
When we came to this point in the session, I was able to feel in my body the young parts that continue to look outside of myself for answers, for permission, for power. In this outward search I become un-grounded. My energy goes upwards toward the sky rather than traveling down into the earth. My roots become thin, shallow, easy to pull away from. I start to float off.
I take a moment to slowly look around my room. Orienting to the space. Bringing myself back to center.
It isn’t outside of you. It isn’t outside of you. It isn’t outside of you.
No matter how much you want it to be, how much you have been programed to believe it is outside of you or how much time and money you have spent searching for the answers, the authority, the power is within you. It has always been within you.
Warm tears flow down my neck.
Going outside of myself is such a young survival strategy. It wasn’t safe to trust myself back then. I learned early on to outsource everything including my authority. I defer. I shut down. I say I don’t know. I look out. I seek.
I have been struggling with holding boundaries with my kids around bedtime. Sure, I can blame some of that on the sheer exhaustion of parenting and navigating the foster care system, but what’s really happening is that I have not been in my full power. I haven’t claimed it. I haven’t stepped into a leadership role in my family. I have been waiting, hoping, that someone will come in and save us all.
Nobody is coming.
This isn’t anybody else’s work to do. Not my partner’s. Not my children’s.
Trusting myself is my work. It’s my medicine.
Trusting that I can hold firm and loving boundaries with my kids long before I am angry with them.
Trusting that I know what I need to do for work even if the choice is confronting or much less glamorous than part of me wants it to be.
Trusting that I can practice being satisfied in this moment instead of living in a perpetual state of rushing to whatever is next.
Trusting that the writing will happen even when it’s not happening as easily or as quickly as I would like it to.
Trusting that I can flow between being more public and being more private in my life and that it’s okay.
Trusting that I can keep my attention focused on just a few things and that I will survive if I miss out on some stuff.
Trusting that my partnership is solid and that it is safe for me to be more vulnerable.
Trusting that I am not a failure when I yell at my kids.
Trusting that my body can heal even though it is in pain right now.
Trusting that I don’t need to know any more things from out there.
Trusting that I will be better served by listening to my own inner wisdom.
Trusting that the earth will hold me.
Trusting that my ancestors are with me, that I am part of a lineage, even when it’s complicated and even when I feel alone.
Trusting that the next breath will come without me having to strain or gasp for it.
I have the answers I am seeking.
Sometimes I need to say them out loud to uncover them.
Sometimes I need a witness to hold them with me.
Sometimes I need to listen to a beautiful piece of music, take a long walk through the foothills, look up at the night sky, or spend chunks of time between childcare typing my way through the muck to get to the gems buried deep beneath the surface.
I don’t need to read another self-help book or take another parenting class or drive my kids to see another healer.
I need to spend more time breathing. More time meditating. More time with the trees. More time with our donkeys. More time cooking. More time laughing. More time just being. Here. With my family. With myself. With my heartbeat. With my tears. With my sadness. With this land. With our community.
The more I am here, the more I can learn to practice trusting. To practice embodying my authority. To practice being a sturdy leader for our children. To practice the writing that gets me to a place I didn’t know I was headed when I started.
To practice deferring to myself.
With deep care,
Ashley
I found myself wanting to quote some of the sentences here that resonate deeply, but found there are too many! Trusting, trusting all the things and being inside it all, no matter how uncomfortable. Our bodies always know, always have the answers, even if we've been conditioned out of that deep intuition.
We spend so much time looking outside for that healing, for the answers, for permission and for self-worth, and now there are so many unethical industries based on our 'need' for outside things to heal us too -- making it a never-ending journey (of course, I know there are many amazing people out there doing good work too). I try to base my client work on this, that they don't need me or anyone else, that we can all gently come home to ourselves instead, and find that trust again.
I have so much more to say about how much I loved this whole essay, too much to put in a comment, but I love this sentence especially: "typing my way through the muck to get to the gems buried deep beneath the surface." Such a beautiful image! Also it made me laugh, my first description of my Substack was very close to this! I think I wrote something like, "to unearth the hidden gemstones in our lives, to resurface..." You've put it better 😂
Thank you, Ashley. Always so glad to read your words.
There’s so much insight, understanding, and care in this writing—thank you. I’m grateful for your therapist, for your continued vulnerability and seeking. I can relate so very much to this same experience, and you come full circle with the reminders to breathe, ground, and I love the ending when you write, “To practice deferring to myself.” - this is so hard for me at times and I feel selfish. Those early years and following years of gas lighting, suck it up, and not trusting our intuition create neural pathways of response that we can change—I am positive we can because I am. Much love with you and your family—creating a safe space of being held and in attunement for your children (self, creativity, all of it) is love. 🤍