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Worrying is a part of human nature. It’s a completely natural and normal thing to do. What’s NOT natural and normal is letting worry take over your life.
As women, we often define ourselves by seasons. And I don’t mean the sweater-wearing, PSL-drinking, football-watching of fall, or the sandals, sunscreen, and sundresses of spring. I’m talking about the seasons appointed to us: wedding season, baby season, second baby season, pre-all of these seasons . . . you know the drill. The time of our lives most consistently associated with friends checking off specific boxes on their life to-do list.
I used to wonder this on the daily, feeling that diagnosis heavy on my forehead. I wore the bitterness and helplessness of that very question for so long. Depression became my identity everywhere I went, wondering if people saw it in big bold letters too.
Shame doesn’t have the final word. Not in my story and not in yours.
While my family and I have chosen a path to dedicate our lives to fighting human trafficking, I know that not everybody has that calling on their lives. We all have a purpose and a plan, but that does not mean that we cannot contribute to change. Justice is in our hands. Here are a couple of practical ways you and I can fight human trafficking in our everyday lives!
Our world, whether it means to or not, has a tendency to place strength and independence at odds with vulnerability, as if we can only have one or the other. Women must either be snappy, professional, and independent as they speed down the sidewalk in their heels or they must curl up in their cashmere sweater to talk about their feelings with their partner. Men must continually be strong and independent, as they aren’t socially expected to have an avenue in which to be vulnerable.
I have come to believe that a healthy sense of curiosity is not only essential for developing a love of learning in children but is also essential for developing a healthy interest in and compassion for our fellow humankind.
A 60-day notice to vacate greets us one afternoon after work, posted on the door of the home my husband and I have rented and loved for three years. The weekend I hit emotional rock bottom, we found a one-bedroom, overpriced apartment farther down the freeway. We made an appointment. Anthony skipped class to see it, and he paid a holding fee. We found a place to live.
I want to talk to you—the one looking for deeper connections as you walk towards healing. As I’ve struggled with my own mental health, I have found that it is crucial to cultivate friendships with people who ask how I’m doing and pause to listen to my answer.
If we let it, motherhood can unlock a secret door to the humans we were meant to be. You will never find me claiming to be an expert in the field of motherhood. (It would be foolish to do so when each day presents a new opportunity for growth.) But, if you feel that a part of you has been lost in motherhood, take some time to consider just a few ways into the path of finding!