I am still electrified and hugely emotional about the wonderful Journaling to the Deep retreat I hosted this past weekend. Even in writing, the place I am at my most eloquent, I am at a loss for how to express how much it meant to me that all those amazing wild women showed up so courageously and shared both the unbearable heaviness and the unbearable lightness of their hearts. But I'll try…
I learned something about myself this past weekend at my very first retreat. I am good.
I’ve shared before that one of my core desired feelings is to feel FULL. I had a mother who showed her love through gifts and food. I needed her to tell me she loved me, that I was worthy of her love. I needed her to hold me against her ample bosom and rock me when I was sad or crying (which is why I almost always cry when I read aloud a reimagination of my Wild Child being held so tenderly and being honoured in her grief so gently by a big, motherly woman).
I took my mother’s love, however, I got it. I ate far more than I needed because her food and the nice clothes and the presents under the Christmas Tree could never fill me up. I gobbled up the only one-to-one attention I got in my childhood illnesses like I was starving. And sometimes I did bad things just to get her to notice me — for me.
This need for FULL has followed me right to today in my business. I have had awesome course feedback, group challenges, and plenty of kind comments, but they often leave me jonesing for the next fix and rushing to give yet another gift, so I get more, more, MORE.
Something changed in me last weekend. In the past, I have understood things in my head, but they didn’t always connect to my heart… That’s the story of my life. No amount of kind words had ever been able to connect the words from my ears to my brain, to my heart. And I think that’s because the Wounded Wild Child in me couldn’t accept the kindness in because her mommy didn’t teach her how to accept love and appreciation.
This weekend made me FULL — I am fundamentally good. I am worthy. I am love.
But this time I got it... I am really, really good at holding space and allowing you to take the time you need to say what’s on your heart without judgement or hurrying you along. And I also believe that spending so much time together with such a varied group of Wild Women, at varying life stages, I could see the Goddess and the Divinity of us all — in me too.
There is a thing such as a tipping point. Malcolm Gladwell, in his book, The Tipping Point: How Little Things Can Make a Big Difference, defines a tipping point as “the moment of critical mass, the threshold, the boiling point.” He also says, “Ideas and products and messages and behaviors spread like viruses do.”
I won’t know that I’ve reached the tipping point as a trusted leader until it’s a landslide, but in my heart, I believe I’m there. L’il kacky, who was taught not to brag or be proud, still struggles with writing those words, but she’s okay with me writing them because we are learning to trust each other and believe in each other. I am learning to mother my Wounded Wild Child and she’s learning she is eminently worthy of all that she desires.
kathy mercure is a storyhealer, storylistener, and storyteller. Her life’s work is to gently draw stories from her students to help them find their voice and nurture their Wounded Wild Child through journaling. Her passion is to support women in realizing their true identity as Wild Women, claiming their passions, and speaking their truths as they become their most authentic selves. (Photo by EagleSpirit Soul Shots)