The Andness of Mother's Day

Last year, Mother's Day arrived on the heels of my mother's quiet death. Painful events that followed her passing left me shocked and angry. Mother's Day as a daughter felt hollow, as I contemplated her conditional love for me.  And it felt utterly joyful as a mother of two daughters who planned an elaborate surprise lakefront picnic just for me.

One year later, Mother's Day arrives with a familiar tug-of-war between gratitude and grief. Gratitude for the loving friendships that I cultivated and now share with my darling daughters. Gratitude for our laughter, our ease, our unconditional love. And also grief. Grief for what was never, ever possible, no matter how hard I tried, because of her trauma. Grief for all I have lost since her death because she couldn't truly see me and shared her blindness with others.

Doing the emotional and spiritual work to break the cycle of generational harm has led to freedom, self-respect, power, and peace. And today, and for several days now, there is also sadness. Despite all my work along this healing journey, sometimes I still forget and try to outrun the sad--distracting myself with chores, social media, busyness. When I finally remember and get quiet and still, I remember the way and allow myself to hold my sorrow in my loving hands with presence and compassion. I wasn't seen by her because her pain blinded her, and that is a sadness that deserves and needs to be felt. And in creating space for feeling, I am seen and cared for and healed once more. And all that is left is gratitude.

With love to all who struggle on Mother's Day, I see you.

Heather

He would be proud

Many people ask me, “How long did it take you to write your book?” The first draft, 4 months. The 10 edits, 6 years later, 4 months. Then they ask, “Why did you wait for 6 years?” Because I knew my journey to peace and loving myself would not be well received by my mother. I was well trained to keep the peace.

Today, I got to thinking, my mother always overshadowed my father. Her emotions muted his. Her energy swallowed him. I never until today thought, how would my father have responded to my book? If I could read it to him right now, what would he say? I imagine it would go something like this:

“You did a really fine job, Heth. You were always so sensitive and thoughtful, and you never gave yourself enough credit.” And then he would laugh at himself for saying “fornicate in the hall” and “throw the goddamn ball,” and we would laugh together about the way certain memories last forever. Then he would stroke my face as he read about his death, and he would thank me for the cherry tree and the “pa bench.” And then he would say, “Nice job with the beach house. Keep riding that bike as long as you can.”

He wouldn’t be mad.
He wouldn’t make it about him.
He would be quiet and humble.
He would be grateful that I know peace.
He would be so very proud.

Book launch party

Yesterday I hosted my first book launch party with the help of my daughter Hannah, my friend Judith, and my dear husband Bob. I always get a little nervous when I host a gathering. What if people are too busy and no one shows up? I know it's not personal. Yoga taught me that. I try to stay nonattached while also being human and hoping people show up.

The people in my life showed up. And it was so beautiful. The energy of celebration was palpable and somewhat humbling. I have worked for so long to birth this book, it has become part of me. People's enthusiasm reminded me that writing a published memoir really is a big deal and is something to be really proud of. So I'm showing up for myself too.

Reading excerpts of my story out loud in front of 40+ people might sound terrifying. I loved it. What's more, I loved getting to interact with my people and draw out THEIR stories and the emotions connected to our criss-crossing paths. My people told me I am "brave" and "courageous" to share so much with such vulnerability. I don't know another way to be.

This author journey is exceptional. I didn't expect it to be so fun and so rewarding. I'm ready to start planning my next event so I can expand out from my precious community to meet new faces and hear more overlapping stories, bringing strangers together to feel our shared humanity.

As an English major and avid book reader, I have always believed in the power of books to bring people together. As a new author, I am so deeply grateful for my readers. Thank you thank you thank you.

Love,

Heather

Do I want to sell a million books?

When people hear that I wrote a book, they congratulate me and offer praise. While I deeply appreciate their lovely words and kindness, writing my memoir was a deeply humbling experience. It was a heartbreaking journey of processing and stepping forward from the darkness in my life AND it was an act of service.

My publisher asked whether my goal is to sell as many books as possible. Anyone who knows me well knows I’ve never been motivated by money. No, I don’t care how much money I make. What I DO care about is this:

I want my book to find the hands and hearts of people who need it.

I want to share my raw and authentic hero’s journey with anyone struggling in the worlds of addiction, abuse, anxiety, trauma, low self-esteem, or high sensitivity.

I want people to read my book and feel less lost and alone and more seen and understood.

I want the two decades I spent seeking, discovering, and embodying my blessed healing practices to serve as the roadmap I wish I had had.

I want people to read my story and share it with their loved ones who they know need my story. I want to hear stories about readers helping their friends heal. That is the currency I seek.

I don’t want fame or glory or attention or accolades. I want to make a difference in people’s lives. I want my journey to have served a purpose—I want to spread self-compassion, self-love, and healing as far as I can.

In peace,

Heather