No one knows about stretching more than a former professional ballet dancer. Oh, the things I used to do to stretch myself to unnatural degrees. For instance, I used to stick my pre-teen feet underneath the edge of the piano and then try to straighten my legs. Oh my lawd. I did that. I also used to watch TV upside down, with my legs on a wall in a V position, hanging open with hopes they would one day go touch the ground.
Those are just two of the weird things I used to do to my body before it knew better than to bark back. Ha. But, the reason I bring them up is because for as much as we think we know about stretching, we actually know very little. We basically all think: Stretching equals flexibility. The truth? Stretching won’t do anything for flexibility unless you have strength first. So, strength actually equals flexibility.
Let’s take my pre-teen foot stretching theory. What I was...
I am not MommaStrong.
I work for MommaStrong.
The statement above might look like a simple shift in perspective, but the truth is that it took a long long long time to get here. In fact, I read recently that it takes on average of ten years to get to the one year that changes your life. This couldn’t be more true for me. And I have experienced that the start of that life-changing year usually begins with a painful sledgehammer to all the unmanageable bits of your seemingly secure life.
I learned so many profound things over the last year thanks to that sledgehammer, but I’m here today to quickly suggest that the most profound thing was (and will always be) this: The quality of my life is directly connected to my willingness to connect, be transparent, receive, and give of myself to a safe and steady crew of other people.
For lots of reasons personal to me, this was not a simple task. Letting down my guard, having discernment about...
As most lasting love stories go, I met you exactly when I needed you. I wasn’t looking for you. In fact, I had completely given up on fitness in general. Because of my incredibly suffocating back pain and my invisible autoimmune diseases, it became clear to me that I ought to just give up. I didn’t want to spend another penny on golden carrots dangled in front of me by well-meaning healers, doctors, and trainers. So, right before I met you, I decided that that was that. I was just going to quit.
What people around didn’t know is that along with quitting my job and quitting my healing, I wanted to quit life too. And I spent much of my days planning how to do this in a way that no one would know was purposeful, so that my daughters wouldn’t have thatstory.
This is what depression looks like. This is how we suffer.
How could I tell anyone, though? There was no hotline or resource...