Becoming Joyful from the Inside Out | Essential Oils
Parts of 2017 were rough for our family, mainly, Alexandra. In January of 2017 her sister was born, about a month later when I figured out that I couldn’t raise a newborn and also keep Alexandra stimulated during the day, we sent her to “pre-school” a few times a week and a month after that the young lady who helped us around the house and with Alexandra (so she was Alexandra’s best buddy) found another job. It was a lot of transition for Alexandra and she had BIG feelings that manifested in physical outbursts.
I’m talking extreme– she would beat us up. Bad. She hit and kicked and screamed and would get so enraged that I knew she was literally out of her mind. I could see when her senses shut down and she was on rage mode. I felt terrible for her and also for us. We even restored to spanking her which made it all worse. (Want to stop spanking your kids or just want to learn how a toddler's brain works, read - No Drama Discipline). One night it got so out of control and I was so scared and pissed that at midnight I Googled, therapy for kids. I needed help. ASAP.
Around the same time I was starting to get vocal about my Postpartum Depression and my friend reached out to me and she said, these will help you. They WILL make a difference. She was talking about essential oils and I started to pay attention.
Even saying essential oils felt super silly at first, but slowly I started to lean into the science and results and possibilities.
And it all felt overwhelming. There was so much information. I thought, “how do these people have the time for all of this!”
But I knew I needed help getting Alexandra to a good place, and I was going to use all the tools available. So we started therapy and we started essential oils.
When the oils arrived, we called them “magic.”
The very first night I remember opening an oil that my friend said would help my girls sleep through the night (both of them!) and that was huge, since I was nursing and pumping and oh so tired!! I pulled out “Peace and Calming” rubbed it on the girls' wrists and on their chest and VOILA! They both slept through the night.
And so, that was how we started. With sleep.
There are many essential oil companies out there, I am a fan of Young Living. My good friend who introduced me to oils is one of the smartest, most thorough, good hearted people I know. And that’s why I like Young Living, because she vouches for it. That’s plenty for me. She is a wealth of information and encouragement and I love that about my journey with oils. She’s also an attorney and doesn’t need my money to sustain her – and so I know that her recommendations are coming from an honest place – and that makes me feel good too! (Just keeping it real!!)
Back to oils.
I took the plunge for me and for my family and little by little we addressed things like sleep, trauma, jealousy, change, and once we addressed some big emotions, we started addressing our physical health. We began making our own vitamins with oils, using essential oils to clean the air, our floors, SO MANY THINGS.
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We use oils every single day.
My husband makes his own vitamins with oils! (Lemon, Black Pepper, Cinammon, Ledum, Thieves, Oregano, DiGize, GLF, Grapefruit, Peppermint)
I use Loyalty oil as a perfume. I say a little mantra, be loyal to your truth, and I go on my way.
If I’m having a stressful day, I swipe on Present Time Oil, it helps me stay in the present and just breathe.
Alexandra uses a special blend of oils, GeneYus, to help her focus at school.
During the day I use Lemon Essential Oil for my water.
During the day I run the diffusers with Thieves and Cinnamon to clean the air in our house. Sometimes I even use Orange and Tangerine. Yum!
I use an essential oil blend (SARA- helps with trauma , Release- to help let go of it all, and Sacred Mountain -Sacred Mountain promotes feelings of safety and knowing the world will always take care of you) and make a linen spray. I spray this on our beds before we go to sleep.
I keep an essential oil room spray (Pine and Thieves) in our guest bathroom.
Before a big work event like a keynote or even my TEDx talk, I lather myself in Present Time (to keep me in the moment) and Valor (to give me courage to shine!)
I keep a bag of oils by my bedside that I swipe on my feet and wrists and neck each night. Oils that are meant to help calm my brain and get me to a place of peace. Some of them are: Rose, Release, Geranium, Sacred Frankincense, Inner Child, Joy and Gratitude. They are crucial to my sleep.
At night I make my own mix of oils, depending on the girls' behavior and what’s going on in our lives, and run the girls’ diffusers. Sometimes Alexandra and Luciana need more emotional support (Peace and Calming, White Angelica) and sometimes they need help with head colds (Thieves, Lavender, Lemon and Peppermint)– it all depends!
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I just keep learning and we keep using them and we have seen incredible results.
We’re almost 2 year into oils and I LOVE them.
Oils are the first thing I turn to for a bug bite, a rash, fragrance, emotional support (they have helped me with my PPD, weaning off of Zoloft, when I’m pissed, when I’m scared and when I’m trying to raise my vibration) immune system support, and even for cooking!
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Let’s talk some more science.
In my TEDx talk,Choose Joy or Die,I talk about how if we are not consciously choosing joy, we are dying.
See how Joy is near the top and shame is near the bottom?
This chart depicts frequencies, vibrations. Good vibes vs. bad vibes.
Here's a crash course on frequencies (taken from Oily Por Vida)
✔ Every cell in your body, every single living thing, has a vibrational frequency. When we consume things that have frequency (such as plants which are living things), we can increase our body's frequency, which will increase our health.
✔ Healthy human body frequency: 62+ MHz.
✔ Illness starts at 57-60 MHz.
✔ Our bodies are receptive to cancer at 42 MHz
✔ Death begins at 25 MHz.
✔ Essentail oils have frequencies as well, which can raise our bodies’ frequency. They range from 52-580 MHz.
✔ One of the most important modalities of essential oils is their ability to raise our body’s frequency to a level where disease cannot exist.
✔ Processed food: 0 MHz, meaning it does nothing positive for your health.
✔ Raw, real food (things that are alive) are the only foods that will raise your frequency.
✔ The essential oils with the highest frequencies are Idaho Blue Spruce (580 MHz), Rose (320 MHz), Helichrysum (181 MHz), and frankincense (147 MHz).
✔ Coffee: Even holding a cup of coffee can lower your body frequency by 8 MHz (yikes!) Taking a sip lowers it by 14 MHz. BUT! Listen to this: When essential oils are inhaled following exposure to coffee, the bodily frequencies restore themselves in less than a minute. But if no oils are administered, it can take up to 3 days for the body to recover from even one drink of coffee. How crazy is that?
✔ Negative thoughts decrease our frequency by up to 12 MHz.
✔ A positive thought can increase our frequency by 10 MHz.
✔Prayer/meditation increase our frequency by 15 MHz.
We can makes choices to raise our vibrations! I think that's great news. :)
When I learned about this research, I really went into high gear with essential oils.
By raising our vibration with our food, positive thoughts, prayer, laughter, dancing, and even with essential oils, we are choosing joy. We are ascending. We are living a life of joy and vitality! And we all deserve to live lives full of joy.
If you’d like to get started with essential oils, send me an email (catia@catiaholm.com) and I’ll point you in the right direction.
Hi friend!
I'm Catia, a woman, wife, mama, sister, sister friend, you know -- I wear a million hats just like you.
One of my biggest whys is that I want people to feel good about ALL of who they are. Including you.
The threads running through all my work (I’m an author - The Courage to Become, I’m a motivational speaker - TEDx, Choose Joy or Die , I am a private coach ) are hope, joy and empowerment.
If I could choose ten words that best describe me I would say: honest, welcoming, giving, curious, loving, earnest, empathetic, spiritual, playful, and sassy. Let's add: adventurous. That's 11.
Nice to meet you!
Want to start feeling really good but not sure where to start? Jump on into our virtual classroom (complimentary of course!) and get a weekly guide on how to walk with confidence and joy! You are divine. You are magic. I look forward to serving you!
Confidence + Joy Weekly Guide
Shine your brightest,
Help for Post Partum Depression (and the like)
I have had postpartum depression … twice. And so have A LOT of your friends and family.
When you’re a first time mom, the postpartum experience is new – and since it’s your first time around – it’s not easy to figure out what’s normal and what isn’t.
During my first pregnancy I was aware of the postpartum depression possibility so I guarded against it. I encapsulated my placenta, I worked out, I went to therapy, and still – the bottom fell out from under me. Only I didn’t know it – and not knowing that you are in the midst of postpartum disorders is the most dangerous.
One day, when my first born was about 4 months old, I noticed that I felt really good. I felt like a weight had lifted off my shoulders – and over the next few weeks, the puzzle pieces fell into place and I knew I had been depressed and anxious.
Here’s what my first go with postpartum disorders felt like:
Having thoughts of my baby getting hurt or dying A LOT.
Extreme jealousy and irrational behavior.
Fear that my husband would find a better woman.
Not connecting with my child.
I tended to her needs and no one could tell I wasn’t truly connecting – but I knew.
Resentment of my new life.
I wanted a baby, and had one, but then I was kind of pissed that my life had changed so much. Where had my life gone? Where had my freedom gone?
So then, with my second baby, I was ready. I knew what to look out for. My husband and I were ready!
With my second baby I had a traumatic birth (I lost 50% of my blood and had to have blood transfusions) so my OB was on high alert for me having Post-traumatic stress disorder, but after a few checkups, she deemed me fine.
The first several months of my second baby’s life were a dream. I was in love with her, I was connecting with her, I had help around the house, and my husband was helping a ton – ALL GOOD!
But then around month four – things started to get weird. I started to have major anxiety and my fuse became shorter and shorter. And around month five, my girlfriend Alexis at Birth 360, posted an article about late onset postpartum depression – and I read it – and it all clicked.
Dang it! It happened again!
I immediately called my doctor and made an appointment.
Here’s what postpartum depression felt like the second time around:
Having thoughts of my children getting hurt or dying – A LOT.
A general sense of fear of not having enough (money, food, time, etc.)
A short fuse, zero patience.
Anger toward everyone. Suppressed rage.
Feeling like someone had a boot on my neck.
Feeling helpless to affect change in my work life.
Irrational thoughts
Here’s a quick example of irrational thoughts:
My husband and I were out of town visiting family. We were staying in a quiet farm town, at least 30 minutes from a grocery store. One morning he cooked our oldest daughter breakfast — eggs and hotdogs. He also precooked hotdogs for the rest of the day – so that she would have something ready to go if she got hungry.
I asked him if he had had his fill of hotdogs, and he said yes. Then I said, “Okay, I’m going to eat the rest of these hotdogs with my breakfast.” I too wanted eggs and hotdogs. And he said, “Why don’t you have the chicken (there was cooked chicken breast) so that she can have the hotdogs later?”
And I got PISSED.
Thoughts started swirling in my mind. He doesn’t think I deserve hotdogs? Am I not worth hotdogs? I should be able to eat the hotdogs if I want. Am I not worth the $8 worth of hotdogs? And on and on.
I jumped in the shower and began to weep.
Guys, my husband and I have a strong relationship. He loves me and I love him, deeply. We have been through life together and still, we pull closer together. The sky is blue, and my husband loves me — I KNOW these things. And I knew intellectually that he would want me to have the hot dogs if that’s what I wanted – but my brain was spinning OUT OF CONTROL.
And when I told my OB/GYN the hotdog story – she said, “I’m glad you’re here for help.”
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Useful questions for help for postpartum depression:
I recommend you ask yourself or have a person you trust ask.
Are you having fears you didn’t used to have? What are they?
Are you angry your life has changed?
Are you having thoughts that your baby is going to die?
Are you frustrated throughout the day? What sparks the frustration?
Do you feel inadequate?
Do you feel supported?
Do you feel like you can be honest about your feelings with those around you?
Has your libido changed? How?
If you have children, how do you feel toward them? Same as before baby? More connected, less connected?
If you are married or in a relationship – how do you feel toward your spouse/partner? Has it changed since post baby? Describe.
These are BIG questions and they only work if you commit to being honest.
The thing I’ve heard most from women about postpartum disorders is that they are ashamed. I am here to tell you – there is nothing to be ashamed of. It is a hormonal issues – not an issue of ability or will power.
You can ask for help from your OB/GYN, your child’s pediatrician, a counselor or your girlfriends, community and family. Some women feel better after talking about it with friends or a therapist. Some women need medication (me!) And some women need a combo of things.
We are all with you and for you.
Childbirth brings on so many changes, good and bad and messy ones. But the point of it all is to ENJOY your new baby and your new family. Get the help you need, you deserve to feel good!
Other resources:
Pregnancy and Postpartum Health Alliance of Texas
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This post was originally written for and featured on Austin Moms Blog
Hi friend!
I'm Catia, a woman, wife, mama, sister, sister friend, you know -- I wear a million hats just like you.
One of my biggest whys is that I want people to feel good about ALL of who they are. Including you.
The threads running through all my work (I’m an author - The Courage to Become, I’m a motivational speaker - TEDx, Choose Joy or Die , I am a private coach ) are hope, joy and empowerment.
If I could choose ten words that best describe me I would say: honest, welcoming, giving, curious, loving, earnest, empathetic, spiritual, playful, and sassy. Let's add: adventurous. That's 11.
Nice to meet you!
Want to start feeling really good but not sure where to start? Jump on into our virtual classroom (complimentary of course!) and get a weekly guide on how to walk with confidence and joy! You are divine. You are magic. I look forward to serving you!
Confidence + Joy Weekly Guide
The Courage to Become | Andi Franklin
What I remember, is the silence. The dimly light dining room. My knees on the chair cushion and arms draped over its back, clutching a $25 Target gift card I had gotten as an early birthday present. Curtains peeled back, street lights on, and a cul-de-sac full of cars that were in for the night.
He’ll be here. He’ll be here. He promised he would take me, so he’ll be here.
I don’t know how long I was there, staring and waiting and convincing myself that he would show. But finally, I felt my mother’s gentle hand on my shoulder.
"Its time to go to bed, sweetie. I’m sure he just got caught up.”
Looking back, I think of my mom and hard that must have been for her. I think of how long she pondered what to say to her bright-eyed little girl who sat in a window all night waiting for her dad to show up and take her shopping for her 7th birthday. I wonder if she knew how far gone he was, I wonder if she saw it coming.
That night marked the beginning of my biological father’s exit strategy. I can only remember seeing him one other time in passing before he was gone for good. He never said goodbye. He never told me why. He was just, gone.
My mom explained that he was in the clutch of drugs and alcohol, but I wasn’t buying it. Deep down I knew the real reason he left⏤me.
This belief coursed through my veins and spread in my body like a cancer. Each year that passed I would get sicker and sicker, subconsciously convinced that his love was the cure. Meanwhile, in my conscious mind, I became obsessed with finding him.
The reason changed with each season in my life.
At the tender age of seven, I simply wanted him to come home to me. I loved him, missed him, and didn’t care about the rest. But as a new year turned, so would my feelings toward this elusive man. Emotions? I’ve felt them all. I think that is kind of expected when you are abandoned.
But what surprises me now, is how I let that single event in my life take the driver seat and dictate every future relationship.
My story of becoming, lies here—in the gaping wounds of a woman who spent over 20 years of her life looking for love, when love had been hers all along.
My quest to fill the void of my biological father’s love sent me down twisted, untended, shadowy trails.
It got to the point where I would push for young men to leave me around my birthday because I had convinced myself it was going to happen anyway.
Somehow, no matter what, I would always find myself back where I started:
Seven years old. Curtains peeled back, street lights on, and a cul-de-sac full of cars that were in for the night.
He’ll be here. He’ll be here. He promised he would take me, so he’ll be here.
I would always see it coming, but I would sit and wait anyway.
The leaving. The betrayal. The heartbreak.
My deep longing for love led me into the clutches of manipulation. Young men knew how to work a broken girl, and one in particular was so skilled that it took me weeks to realize he had raped me.
“But did you say no?”
Yes.
“But did you try to fight him off?”
Yes.
“And yet, you still didn’t realize you had been raped?”
No.
Trauma has a funny way of doing that to a person. Especially when it roots back to your childhood and incessant need to be loved.
Fortunately, I clawed my way out of that hell and found myself on the other side. The side that could sit in a space with other women who had gone through it and say, “me too, and I’m here for you.”
I met a man who wasn’t afraid of me and my baggage. A man who refused to leave me around my birthday, despite my many attempts to sway him otherwise.
We fell in love, got married, and therein lies the happy ending, right?
I sure thought so.
I had actively convinced myself that I was cured.
Healed! Praise Jesus, Hallelujah!
I thought the void had been filled and I went on with my merry way with life.
Until the day I finally had to come face to face with him.
Meeting my biological father again for the first time in 18 years was terrifying.
It was my grandfather’s 80th birthday and my father had been clean and sober for about six months, so the family allowed him to come to the event and notified us that he would be there.
I was five months pregnant with my first son.
Palms sweaty, face flushed.
Don’t you cry, Andrea. You’ve gotta stay strong for your brother.
I brought a notebook full of letters, songs, and poems I had written to him throughout the years. I was going to give it to him and show him the pain he had caused.
But when I saw him, I couldn’t do it.
This man, so broken and fragile. Petrified of us—his grown children.
My heart no longer hurt for just me, it hurt for him too.
And so the notebook stayed with me and I left that birthday party, heart still guarded, but softened.
He managed to stay clean for another year and a half and was even invited to my brother’s wedding. Then suddenly, he was gone again. Back into the warm arms of alcohol and Methamphetamine—his oldest friends, and closest enemies.
When I found out, I decided I was done with him for good. I wiped my hands clean, threw them in the air, and proclaimed that I was whole, and didn’t need him.
And yet, no matter what, I would always find myself back where I started:
Seven years old. Curtains peeled back, street lights on, and a cul-de-sac full of cars that were in for the night.
He’ll be here. He’ll be here. He promised he would take me, so he’ll be here.
Three and a half years had passed since I had seen or heard from him and then, my grandpa died.
I knew he would be at his father’s funeral, but I also knew he was on drugs and I was terrified of seeing him like that.
I stepped out of the truck at Green Acres Cemetery, not knowing what to expect.
Palms sweaty, face flushed.
Don’t you cry, Andrea. You’ve gotta stay strong for your brother.
But he never showed. And it was there, at the celebration of my grandpa’s life, that my becoming shifted.
I found out from my cousin that my father was homeless, living on a dirt road somewhere in the desert.
A rumble stirred within me.
Homeless.
I couldn’t accept this. I heard it echoing in my mind for days.
Homeless.
And so, I knew I needed to do something.
I talked to my husband and told him I really wanted to bring a care pack of sorts to my father. You know, toiletries and snacks and things that may help. I knew it wasn’t much, but I also knew it was better than nothing.
But first, I needed to know how to get to him. I decided to send him a facebook message and ask him if what I heard was true.
No response.
Then, an epiphany.
I was lying in bed next to my husband when I became.
I need to tell him I forgive him. Because, I do. I forgive him. And I need to tell him I love him. Because, I do. I love him. And I always have.
Then, another epiphany.
My entire life, I have thought that I needed his love to fill the void in my heart, when in truth, it is MY love that I have wanted to give to him this entire time.
There aren’t adequate enough words to describe this moment.
23 years in the making, I finally discovered my truth:
Conditional love is not who I am. My love is mine to give, and I don’t need someone to love me back in order to give them my love.
That, is unconditional love. And that, is what my soul has always wanted to give to my father.
I sent another message and this time, I told him I loved him and forgave him, without expecting anything in return.
Still, no response.
Then, I sent him this:
I just wanted to let you know that I love you. And I’ll probably tell you that every week from now on, whether you reply or not, because I want you to know that there is still someone living and breathing on this earth that loves and cares for you.
And every Thursday for the past three months I have done just that.
Since then, I was able to see him. My husband and I made the hour and a half drive to the dirt road he’s living on to bring him some things.
He’s created a house of sorts out of an abandoned trailer he found. He scavenges with his girlfriend and they both do drugs.
But, I still love him.
We chatted and laughed and I promised that next time we come, I would stay for a while and catch up more.
He will never be the father I dreamed up in my mind and he may never get clean and sober again.
But I’m no longer seven years old. Curtains peeled back, street lights on, and a cul-de-sac full of cars that were in for the night.
Now, I am a thirty-year-old woman. Eyes peeled open, natural light flooding in, and a heart full of unconditional love that I’m ready to give, freely.
I’ll be there. I’ll be there. I promised myself I would love fully, so I’ll be there.
Essay by: Andi Franklin
You can find more of Andi's writings on Facebook, Instagram and on her website Andi Franklin.
Hi friend!
I'm Catia, a woman, wife, mama, sister, sister friend, you know -- I wear a million hats just like you.
One of my biggest whys is that I want people to feel good about ALL of who they are. Including you.
The threads running through all my work (I’m an author - The Courage to Become, I’m a motivational speaker - TEDx, Choose Joy or Die , I am a private coach ) are hope, joy and empowerment.
If I could choose ten words that best describe me I would say: honest, welcoming, giving, curious, loving, earnest, empathetic, spiritual, playful, and sassy. Let's add: adventurous. That's 11.
Nice to meet you!
Want to start feeling really good but not sure where to start? Jump on into our virtual classroom (complimentary of course!) and get a weekly guide on how to walk with confidence and joy! You are divine. You are magic. I look forward to serving you!
Confidence + Joy Weekly Guide
The Courage to Become | Frances Saldivar-Morales
Sisters, you never know what kind of impact you are having. Keep doing good work, being kind, staying steady. We don't have to preach, or gather a following or have a fancy business to make a difference. Do what your heart calls you to do, and do it well. That is plenty. The universe will do the rest.
Tonight, I want to share a letter with you. This landed in my inbox in March and I've been waiting to share it with you - to shine a light on Frances ( tonight's author) and also to remind you that you matter and YOU DO MAKE A DIFFERENCE.
When I wrote The Courage to Become, I had no idea who I would impact, seriously. But the more days go by, the more I realize my experience and my sharing and truth have impacted women and families that I never would have imagined.
Enjoy Frances' story. It's one of challenge and courage, grace and triumph.
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Catia,
It truly was a pleasure meeting you at the book signing on Saturday. I didn’t expect to be overcome with so many emotions when we spoke, but I appreciate your kind words, warmth, patience and suggestion to email you. This gives me an opportunity to share how your book made a difference in my life—almost breaking down in tears aside.
I graduated from WHS in 2002, and although we never crossed words, I recall you being an upperclassman and drum major when I was a pacesetter. I immediately recognized your face about a year ago while scrolling through Facebook. Being from the same small town, we have several mutual friends on social media and one of them must have shared your page re: Confidence Revolution. Faith and positive/inspirational/motivational content have been my guiding light and driving force through tough times.
“Outgoing,” a word no one would have used to describe me! Growing up, I had a few close friends, and standing out would have been mortifying. I just wanted to study and earn good grades to go to college and earn a degree—all of which I did, not standing out. In 2007, at the age of 23, I had a Master of Science in Communication Sciences and Disorders and began a career as a Speech-Language Pathologist (SLP) in my home town. I accomplished a lot, and before I knew it, I had a career that paid well enough to live a comfortable life and help my parents. As a first generation Mexican-American, my drive stemmed from my parents’ hope that their children would get an education greater than what they had the opportunity to accomplish.
From 2010-2013, I experienced symptoms that my doctors could not put their finger on: shortness of breath, significant fatigue, a dry cough that just wouldn’t go away, and eventually, I began spitting up traces of blood when I coughed. During that time, I underwent multiple chest x-rays, allergy tests, TB tests, took allergy medications and used inhalers to no avail. In the fall of 2013, my now husband and I experienced a miscarriage. I was 7 weeks along when it happened. I know they say you experience shortness of breath during pregnancy, but it usually occurs much later in the process. During those 7 weeks, I felt my shortness of breath intensify. Working as a pediatric SLP, depending on my patients’ abilities, I’d plop on the floor with them, jump around, or carry them from one location to the next if they were infants. I couldn’t understand why I needed to catch my breath so often, even when talking—because, hello, that’s my bread and butter as an SLP—so early in the pregnancy.
If we were going to try to get pregnant again, we needed answers about my lungs. My family doctor decided to send me to a pulmonologist to get a high-resolution CT of the chest. One week before Christmas, on December 18, 2013, we got the answer: Lymphangioleiomyomatosis (LAM). I felt overwhelmed with emotions: shocked, sad, scared, and RELIEF—I finally had an answer! I was 29 years of age.
Is it my true belief that God had other plans for me. I always had that tunnel vision—work hard, earn a degree, make a difference in children’s lives, work, work, work. My career was MY THING; I worked my butt off to get there! In 2014, my LAM diagnosis progressed from a ‘mild’ to a ‘moderate-severe’ stage. I experienced 2 back-to-back right-lung collapses, invasive lung surgery, chest tubes, was on supplemental oxygen 24/7, began taking the only medication that could potentially slow LAM progression, and began consulting with Houston Methodist Lung Transplant Center. I had to leave my profession--MY THING. I have undergone much emotional and physical pain, but through this, I have learned to push my limits and to "stand out" for a reason. I have further explored the things I never thought I could do. I’m not completely there in terms of putting myself out there, but I AM evolving. I think it was God’s way of saying that there is SO MUCH MORE out there. It’s unfortunate that sometimes, the only way we step back to REALLY appreciate life is when we go through life-changing experiences. You know how they say, “What advice would you give to your younger self?” I think a more gratifying way is to SHARE your experiences with others before they ever go through any negative experiences in hopes that they will grip to something in your story and use it as a life lesson.
In “The Courage to Become,” you talked about leaving your career, making less money, and feeling less powerful and scared. I completely related with that. Before leaving my profession, I earned more than my husband and not once did it ever make me feel “more than” him. In fact, I felt we were equal. We both had a career in the healthcare field—we met at work—and I never had to ask him for money, nor did he to me. I took pride in being able to pay MY car, MY student loans, etc. on my own. It took an emotional toll on me and much, much time for me to come to terms with the fact that WE are a partnership. No matter what the situation, we will have each other’s back. I too feel blessed with “the one” I chose and that he chose me too.
LAM took a lot from me, but it has also opened so many doors. I have found other passions, including yoga, reading, considering adoption, and being an active advocate for myself and others living with LAM. Since diagnosis, family and friends have helped me host two LAM Awareness 5K’s in the RGV, and all proceeds went to The LAM Foundation to help fund research for a CURE. I had the opportunity to speak to a large room of LAM patients, family/friends, researchers and clinicians about my LAM diagnosis and hope for a cure at a LAMpoisum conference. I became a LAM co-liaison for my region and am a source of support for newly diagnosed patients and all those living with LAM in my region. My co-liaison and I host annual regional meetings for patients, family/friends and the medical community. I make it a point to speak to others about LAM because it truly takes a village to make this rare disease known—which is why I shared the LAM pamphlet with you. The more people that are aware, the more likely we are to find undiagnosed women to share hope with. I also take part in LAM research at the National Institutes of Health (NIH) in hopes of finding other treatment options and a cure in the near future.
In Chicago as I shared my LAM story with patients/family/friends, clinicians, and researchers.
Approved by and Photo Credit goes to Kelsey Adams: K- Adams Foto Photography taken at LAMposium
Many have complemented me on my positive outlook despite the circumstances. The reality is, we all have it in us, we just have to choose. Sometimes, we’re just blind to all that is in us because we get so caught up in our lives. You and other writers/speakers continue to motivate me to LOVE and LIVE intentionally. After reading your book, although we never met, I felt like I knew you, and you were that friend that you can speak so openly to—hence why I practically wrote my life story in this email—oops! Your genuine, raw accounts of experiences encourage others to stay motivated. The way you spoke about sisterhood has a deep-rooted connection in my heart, because that’s what LAM women call each other, "LAM sister.” A sister is someone you love dearly and want the best for; you have a connection, a bond. I could feel the love your poured into this book, and the guidance and inspiration you wanted to impart on those reading it! Thank you for the prayer at the end of the book. May you truly know your life had a ripple effect on mine.
Best regards,
Frances Saldivar-Morales
To find out more about LAM you find them here, on their home page and on Facebook.
Hi friend!
I'm Catia, a woman, wife, mama, sister, sister friend, you know -- I wear a million hats just like you.
One of my biggest whys is that I want people to feel good about ALL of who they are. Including you.
The threads running through all my work (I’m an author - The Courage to Become, I’m a motivational speaker - TEDx, Choose Joy or Die , I am a private coach ) are hope, joy and empowerment.
If I could choose ten words that best describe me I would say: honest, welcoming, giving, curious, loving, earnest, empathetic, spiritual, playful, and sassy. Let's add: adventurous. That's 11.
Nice to meet you!
Want to start feeling really good but not sure where to start? Jump on into our virtual classroom (complimentary of course!) and get a weekly guide on how to walk with confidence and joy! You are divine. You are magic. I look forward to serving you!
Confidence + Joy Weekly Guide
Real Talk About Depression
If you:
· Have constant mood swings.
· Are anxious all the time.
· Have trouble feeling joyous.
· Feel disconnected from your life.
· Hesitate to go outside and partake in physical activity.
· Feel rage.
· Have thoughts of hurting yourself or other people.
· If your life feels grey.
· If your thoughts are heavy and burdensome and it all feels like doomsday.
YOU MAY BE DEPRESSED AND SHOULD SEEK HELP.
1) Help is GOOD. There is honor in being self-aware and honest.
2) You will be okay – and this is not “just the way life is,” your brain is playing tricks on you. Depression is complicated, but it is science. Depression is not about will power.
My first bout with depression was in 2014. I had become a mama for the first time and my hormones fell through the floor.
Here’s what it felt like.
· I was disconnected from my daughter, and from my life. I was going through the motions, but nothing was really sinking in.
· I also felt very insecure. I constantly felt like my husband was going to go find someone better. I was really paranoid and sad. I would hold his shoulders and cry, “I’m scared you’re going to find someone better.”
· I would have horrible thoughts about my daughter dying. A LOT. They were terrible. I would imagine me hitting her head on a corner of a wall, or dropping her. The thoughts were horrific.
Everything looked great on the outside. I wore cute clothes. I worked out. I cooked meals. Nothing on the outside gave evidence to my interior thoughts or feelings. Three or four months into the depression, it lifted, and I wept. It was only then, only after it lifted, that I knew I had been depressed.
Depression is weird. It wears away at what is actually happening , and then it distorts it – until it’s so distorted – and you’re so far away from where you started – that it feels unreasonable to NOT BELIEVE YOUR THOUGHTS. You are sure, you are right. You are sure what you are seeing is true. You have collected all the evidence. You are right. Life sucks. Life is hard. Life is a battle. Life is grey.
BUT DEPRESSION IS A LIAR.
The second time I experienced depression was about 5 months after I became a mama for the second time.
We were on a family trip and my husband had sliced and cooked some hot dogs to eat with breakfast. Hot dogs are one of our girls’ favorite foods, and they are easy to cook and eat – so they are a family favorite.
I went to go serve myself hot dogs – and my husband suggested I eat the chicken he had made – since our girls would more readily eat the hot dogs throughout the day. (It’s important to note that we were staying on a farm, in rural Iowa, and the nearest grocery store was 30 minutes away.)
I raged on the inside but said nothing. I served myself every single piece of hot dog that was left and ate until I was uncomfortable.
Then I got into the shower, stood under the running water and sobbed.
The thoughts going through my head were, “He doesn’t think I deserve hot dogs! Am I not worth $8.00 of hot dogs? Does he not care about my needs?” On and on.
I came out of the shower, looked at him, admitting nothing – and said, “I’m not going to be as resilient today.” And he held me gently. We decided I would seek help when we returned.
A week later I told my OB/GYN the story and she said, “I’m glad you’re here. You need a lot of help.”
I didn’t know the Post-Partum Depression could be late onset – and since it felt different than the first time around – neither my husband or I flagged it.
This is what is felt like the second time around:
· I was short tempered. Very short tempered.
· I felt a lot of rage.
· I talked about being violent toward people who angered me.
· I had thoughts of my girls dying. All the time. The thoughts were all consuming – and they left me breathless.
· I would have serious anxiety attacks that manifested as coughing attacks, where I would cough so hard I would gag and it was hard to catch my breath.
· Nothing was ever “quite right.” I always had a reason to be angry.
Two times with depression, and if I’m being totally honest, maybe a third. Right now. It’s annoying and frustrating, because I know I am blessed. I love my husband. I love my girls. I am safe. I have a job I love – and yet, depression sneaks its way into my brain every night and I have terrible dreams. You know, the kind where they weigh on your body and mind and you wake up in a weird mood. So this time around, it looks and feels different.
Here is what is in my DEPRESSION TOOL BOX.
· Talk therapy with a LCSW and a Resonance Re-patterner.
· Prescription anti-depressants – prescribed through my OB/GYN
· Essential oils – I use these all the time to keep my body and emotion vibrating on a higher frequency. I am a big fan of Young Living oils.
· Exercise – I try to do some exercise, (alone – no kids), 4 times a week. One hour per session.
· Massages – getting a massage breaks up the fascia around your muscles and helps relieve tension. It doesn't have to be an expensive massage, just a massage.
· Getting some sun – getting some vitamin D helps boost my mood big time.
· Date night – alone time with my husband makes a huge difference for me.
· Alone time – MUST GET ALONE TIME. I need this to reset from all the frantic moments of the week. I try to go for a walk, listen to a podcast, do yoga.
. Get off my phone and social media. Being on my phone is not rest, it's the opposite of rest.
· Get chilly – If I am hot, I angrier. I’m so serious! Turn down the thermostat.
· Good food – eating organic and sustainable grown fruits and veggies makes a big difference for our body.
· Cut our sugar – Sugar is the devil. Sugar causes major hormonal and consequently mood swings.
. Time with God - praying, listening and connecting with God always grounds me.
It sounds like battling depression is a full-time job, right? Sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn’t. It’s more about a well-rounded way to approach life, and when I honor my body and mind, it returns the favor.
If you identify with any of the feelings above – I will help you get help. All you have to do it say, “Maybe I need help.” And then email me, I’ll hold your hand through it.
I have been there, it is weird. I know.
You are loved and you are worthy.
Don’t let depression convince you otherwise.
The Courage to Become | Amy Wolff
My Courage of Becoming Grey || Essay by: Amy Wolff
My whole life I've craved security, comfort, safety, and predictability.
When I was young, my parents gave me an allowance with the clear expectation that I would give 10% to charity and put 10% into savings. The rest I could spend on whatever my heart desired (probably Polly Pockets). But every month I gave 10% away and hoarded the rest into savings. That's right, as a kid I opted out of 'fun' spending. I chose security.
Which also explains why I see things as black-and-white. Clear right and wrong. Neat and predictable. In my teens years this kept me out of a lot of trouble (you’re welcome, Mom and Dad!). As a rule-follower with an active Christian faith, boundaries were comforting, not restricting. I learned to easily navigate life within the walls of my morality.
But unfortunately walls that keep you safe also keep you isolated.
Over the last few years I’ve felt overwhelmingly defensive and misunderstood (particularly while scrolling through my social media feeds). I’ve been easily offended, often irritated, and if I were being honest, quick to judge. I’m surprised I don’t have permanent damage from all the eye-rolling I’ve done at articles, comments, or at headlines from particular news sources.
That’s what happens when you build walls; everyone on the outside becomes the unrelatable unreasonable other.
Surely this wasn’t loving my neighbors well - picking sides, shouting from soap boxes, and devaluing perspectives and opinions when they didn’t align with my own. It was exhausting and felt rotten. Something had to change, and it wasn’t the others. It was me.
This is my story of becoming grey.
I remember the moment the transformation started. Several years ago I was sitting on my bed scrolling through Facebook when I saw a friend share a video of two men, both gay, speaking at a Christian university. One was arguing that gay marriage is not in violation of God’s will. The other was arguing that acting on his sexual desires was in violation.
What amazed me was the respect these men had for each other. They were on opposing ends of a divisive and deeply personal issue and yet they still honored one another. Their talk included practical ideas of engaging in difficult conversations with people who disagree with you.
When the video ended, I sat there bewildered. Courage stirred.
That’s the day I started my journey of empathy - to understand and sincerely care about the others.
Shortly after committing to the journey, I met Lindsey, Missy and Patrick.
Lindsey: When the Black Lives Matter movement began, I decided that having an informed opinion on the issue required me, a white woman, to ask a person of color about their experiences and feelings. I looked around my friend group: there was none. I looked around my church: none. My community: none. So when I got into an Uber downtown Seattle on a work trip and noticed my driver was black, I asked if he’d be willing to share his perspective with me. It was brief but meaningful.
Eventually a more thorough, and to be honest more difficult, conversation happened with my new beautiful black friend, Lindsey, over dinner. I’m deeply grateful for her patience as she walked me through every hot-topic of racial tension (oh yes, hello white privilege). Because of this conversation over 6 months ago, I am slower to form opinions reading the news, more aware of my words and unconscious biases, and I’m less defensive.
Lindsey is not other.
Missy: Hard conversations continue, just yesterday in fact. I met a new friend Missy downtown Portland for lunch where much of our conversation was about abortion. She is pro-choice. I am pro-life. What does courage and empathy look like for us? We sat and listened to one another, even when it was hard. We asked questions out of sincere concern and curiosity.
When she chose empathy, she saw that I’m not a crazy conservative devaluing the heavy emotions and decisions of a woman with an unplanned pregnancy. I’m trying to protect a child’s right to live, as if it was outside the womb. When I chose empathy, I saw that Missy was not a crazy child-killer but a woman who deeply empathizes with the anguish of others – including women who are often denied critical medical care at pro-life institutions. In the end, she still protests and I still mourn lost babies but we will not villainize each other.
Missy is not other.
Patrick: All these conversations wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t met Patrick in October of 2016. I was referred to Patrick after I had an uncomfortable experience with a client (I didn’t know what pronoun to use because I couldn’t identify their gender). Patrick was highly educated on the topics of sexuality and gender so we met for a quick meeting in a quaint coffee shop (it’s Portland, after all). Thirty minutes into our conversation, Patrick told me he was gender queer. I didn’t know what that meant so awkwardly, yet sincerely, I asked him. He was specific. He was patient. He was honest. Then he sought to understand me.
While the conversation was insightful, it was something Patrick said right before we left that struck me.
We have solidarity.
He explained, my challenge to be an authentic Bible-believing Christ-follower in liberal Portland was similar to his challenge to be authentically gender queer in a world that didn’t hold space for him. We’ve both felt misunderstood. We’ve both felt judged. But more importantly, we both share humanity and the deep desire to be loved and heard.
Solidarity.
We are more similar than we are different.
Patrick is not other.
This has been my anthem as I wade into new uncomfortable conversations. When I’m tempted to feel flustered or get defensive, I’m reminded that deep down, we want the same things. We want to be loved. We want to be safe. We want to be understood. We want to belong.
I confess, I still prefer things cut and dry. There are still non-negotiable black-and-white areas in my life, like my belief in God. Honoring Him is still my life-pursuit. But on specific issues, I was afraid that loving well meant compromising my beliefs. Or vice-versa, that being devoted to beliefs meant that I couldn’t generously love people who believed and lived differently. But I was wrong.
I have found that there are very few things that are black-and-white.
Most of life exists in the messy undefined middle, where there are diverse experiences, different perspectives, and deep emotions. This journey of becoming grey has been incredibly insightful and liberating for me. I’m not mad every time I open Facebook (it’s a modern-day miracle!).
It’s not comfortable. It’s not safe. It’s not predictable. It requires courage to engage when it would be so much easier to stay within our familiar walls with agreeable people. But we can do hard things.
Instead of judging others, we can choose solidarity.
We can lean into the grey together.
Essay by: Amy Wolff
Connect with Amy on her blog and at her passion project - Don't Give Up Signs Movement.
Hi friend!
I'm Catia, a woman, wife, mama, sister, sister friend, you know -- I wear a million hats just like you.
One of my biggest whys is that I want people to feel good about ALL of who they are. Including you.
The threads running through all my work (I’m an author - The Courage to Become, I’m a motivational speaker - TEDx, Choose Joy or Die , I am a private coach ) are hope, joy and empowerment.
If I could choose ten words that best describe me I would say: honest, welcoming, giving, curious, loving, earnest, empathetic, spiritual, playful, and sassy. Let's add: adventurous. That's 11.
Nice to meet you!
Want to start feeling really good but not sure where to start? Jump on into our virtual classroom (complimentary of course!) and get a weekly guide on how to walk with confidence and joy! You are divine. You are magic. I look forward to serving you!
Confidence + Joy Weekly Guide
The Courage to Become | Charlotte Kikel
I was only 26 years old, and life as I knew it was over. In the late spring of 2002, I could barely walk up a flight of stairs. I couldn’t believe it because I was an athlete. I had been a competitive swimmer through college and a recreational triathlete, so for my legs not to have the energy to get me up the stairs was alarming, to say the least.
I felt like I was wearing twenty-pound weights on each limb and all I wanted to do was lay on the couch and watch movies. A few days prior to this I thought I had just come down with a cold, but now I knew something else was going on.
So I did what most people do and went to my doctor who put me on a round of antibiotics.
They didn’t work.
So I went back to my doctor who put me on another round of antibiotics.
They didn’t work.
Third times a charm, right?
I returned to my doctor for yet another round of antibiotics.
They didn’t work.
Do you know the frustration of taking a drug and it not working, and possibly making things worse? Most of us do.
The fourth time I showed up to my doctor’s office, not only was I even sicker, but I was exasperated. The experts who were supposed to be helping me weren’t helping me! Somehow, I had a spark of fire still left in me, and I demanded blood work. At 11:30PM, I got a phone call from my doctor telling me to go to the emergency room. My white blood cell count and liver enzymes were off the charts.
When I got to the ER, they took one look at me and then my file and said, “Hmmm. Looks like your gall bladder’s in trouble.”
This made zero sense to me. The gall bladder helps digest fat. I had never had a problem digesting fat. $5000 dollars worth of tests and 8 hours of a sleepless night later, I heard a doctor talking outside my door, “Has anyone tested her for mono? She’s a textbook case.”
They ran that test. It was $15. It came back positive, and they sent me home with the wisdom of a grandmother: sleep and drink lots of water. I had a viral infection called mononucleosis, and the medical system has no tools for this.
I went into a deep, dark depression from the inflammatory cascade occurring in my body. I had excruciating headaches and panic attacks. I passed out five times in restaurants due to low blood sugar. I slept 12 hours a night, took 3 hour naps, and still didn’t have any energy.
This illness also destroyed my relationships because here’s the deal: I looked healthy. So if you look healthy and the doctors can’t find anything wrong with you, then you clearly have a mental problem, right?
Wrong.
After a few years of living in this hell hole, I contemplated suicide on my bathroom floor. I know I’m not alone: 10 million Americans contemplated suicide last year and those are just the people who are willing to admit it. https://www.cbsnews.com/news/10-million-us-adults-seriously-considered-suicide-last-year/
Brushing my teeth seemed like an extraordinary task. I had this strange red rash around my hairline, and I just couldn’t take it anymore. My joyful spirit that wanted to engage with the world around me was trapped in a body that didn’t want to be here. I couldn’t reconcile this and wondered how much longer I could go on.
It sounds corny, but something deep inside of me told me not to give up. Curiosity, anger, and God kept me going. How did this happen? How did I go from swimming 3 hours a day to having a difficult time walking up a flight of stairs? What in the actual fuck is going on here?
After a conversation with a nutritionist and a friend of a friend who had a similar experience, I had a sneaking suspicion that the fact that my dad was vice president of Imperial Sugar in Sugar Land, Texas had something to do with my illness. Turns out I was right. With what energy I had, I started reading books about nutrition and holistic healing. Fifteen years later, I now have a library of over 300 health-related books.
Sugar, along with excessive exercise, too little sleep, and a stressful job, were the perfect storm for the collapse of my vitality.
The good news is that with a tincture of time, herbal medicine, and significant dietary and lifestyle changes, I got better. Much, much better. I got my life back, and this time it’s better than it was.
I have plenty of energy to move through my day. I can think clearly. I love my work and my husband. Life feels like worth living again.
I ended up pursuing a 2-year certificate in nutrition from Bauman College and obtaining a Master’s of Science Degree in Western Herbal Medicine from the Maryland University of Integrative Health in an effort to understand what had happened to me and how others could prevent it from happening to them.
I now know that same wisdom flowing through my body that resulted in chronic illness is the same wisdom that healed me. I got sick because I asked my body to adapt to the impossible. I controlled it every step of the way, until it made me surrender. Now, I have no choice but to listen to my body every single day or I suffer.
It takes courage to heal. I had to give up everything I loved to reclaim my vitality.
I am no longer a competitive athlete. I participate in gentle restorative activities.
I no longer eat sugar and have dreams of owing a bakery. I had to create a new career – one that would respect my health AND enhance the health of others.
We can’t have pets in our home. I had to find a new home for my dog.
And when I gave birth to our son at home at the foot our bed, and then slipped back into another deep, dark inflammatory depression, I saw it this time. I saw the opportunity for another layer of healing. I saw the need to hibernate with my baby. Under very different circumstances, I had to give up who I knew myself to be all over again.
As a direct result of that transformation, I wrote a book titled Eat in Peace to Live in Peace: Your Handbook for Vitality. I just couldn’t keep all that I have learned to myself, so I wrote it down for you…in the name of hope and for the courage to become.
Charlotte Kikel, MS, NC, ACN, MCPP
Board Certified Holistic Nutritionist & Registered Herbalist (AHG), Eat in Peace Wellness Consulting
512-587-0338 //http://www.charlottekikel.com
Schedule appointment herehttp://eatinpeacewellnessconsulting.fullslate.com/
Find Charlotte’s book, Eat in Peace to Live in Peace, here!
Hi friend!
I'm Catia, a woman, wife, mama, sister, sister friend, you know -- I wear a million hats just like you.
One of my biggest whys is that I want people to feel good about ALL of who they are. Including you.
The threads running through all my work (I’m an author - The Courage to Become, I’m a motivational speaker - TEDx, Choose Joy or Die , I am a private coach ) are hope, joy and empowerment.
If I could choose ten words that best describe me I would say: honest, welcoming, giving, curious, loving, earnest, empathetic, spiritual, playful, and sassy. Let's add: adventurous. That's 11.
Nice to meet you!
Want to start feeling really good but not sure where to start? Jump on into our virtual classroom (complimentary of course!) and get a weekly guide on how to walk with confidence and joy! You are divine. You are magic. I look forward to serving you!
Confidence + Joy Weekly Guide
The Courage to Become | Angela Fry
The Courage to Become a Mother
My husband and I waited a 15 months before we actively started trying to have a baby after we were married. By month 20 I was concerned. So, after much discussion, we decided to see an infertility doctor. We most certainly weren’t getting any younger and my need, my want for a child was in overdrive.
Did I have the courage for what I knew would be an emotional process?
Painful tests, Clomid, ultrasounds, Intrauterine Insemination is how I spent that summer and fall. Nothing. Nothing, but tears, lots of money spent, and sadness. Emotionally, it was like I was drowning. We took a break and went on a cruise.
Six months later after our heads were clear, we were relaxed and very hopeful that this time treatment would be successful. We met with Dr. Michael Henry and came to the decision that In-Vitro Fertilization was my best option at getting pregnant.
So we began our IVF journey.
On August 16th I had my IVF egg retrieval. Two embryos were transferred back to me on August 21, 2012. We prayed.
Four days before I was advised to I took a pregnancy test. And it was POSITIVE!
My pregnancy was confirmed with my doctor’s office and less 2 weeks later I had my first ultrasound. After much silence, my doctor said the four words I will never forget…”I think there’s three.” I cried and my heart felt like it exploded. We were asked to come back in a week for a second ultrasound to confirm triplets!
Did I have the courage to get through this high-risk pregnancy?
By 22 weeks I was the size of full term singleton pregnancy. A few days before my next appointment I felt like I was leaking amniotic fluid.
I was admitted into the hospital to monitor Baby A overnight. An ultrasound confirmed her fluid was low and that she was much smaller than the other two. I was sent home the next day officially on bedrest.
Ten days in and I was sent by ambulance from our local hospital to St. Vincent Women's Hospital in Indianapolis. I was admitted for observation for the contractions I was having. I was sent home the next day with medication if they started again.
My husband left for a work trip to Florida and the next day I was admitted into the hospital again. At 26 weeks 4, days I was there for the rest of my pregnancy.
Did I have the courage to survive this hospital stay alone?
I was kind of happy because the babies would now be monitored daily, but I had no idea just how horrible the next month would be. An overnight stay in a hospital is doable. A week stay is worse. I was an in-patient for almost a month. I don’t wish that on anyone no matter the reason they are there.
On a snowy morning in February I stood up to go to the bathroom and thought I had peed. For some reason, I felt like I needed to let the nurse know. She rushed to get the doctor. He checked me and said “Call your husband. It looks like you’re having the babies today. What? Today? I’m only 29 weeks 5 days. Then I was scared.
That afternoon I was wheeled into the operating room for my c-section. Including myself and my husband, there was the anesthesiologist, 3 doctors, several nurses, and a neonatal nurse for each of the babies. I just laid on the table and cried.
Did I have the courage to do this?
Jase was born first. He was 2lbs 6oz and 15 inches long. He didn’t make a sound. I didn’t even get to see him. Seconds later Henley was born. At 2lbs 3oz and just over 12 inches long, she cried, but I didn’t get to see her either. Sadie Marie came last at 2lbs 2oz and 13 inches long. No sounds from her either. She was whisked away too. I cried and cried and cried.
About an hour later I was wheeled into the NICU to finally see the babies. After 76, 103, and 108 day NICU stays I brought my babies home.
It turns out I did have the courage to become the mother that I always wanted to be.
Almost 4 1/2 years later I am here, surviving and thriving with happy, healthy, crazy preschoolers. Although them being born so prematurely wasn’t ideal, God had a plan for them. I can’t wait to see what else he has in store for my sweet peas. Their lives may have begun at birth, but it was life after the NICU that we all really began living.
Angela is the mother of 4-year-old triplets Jase, Henley, and Sadie. She spends her days loving and sometimes loathing the experience of raising triplets. When she’s not chasing three preschoolers you can find her blogging and drinking an entire pot of coffee in one day.
Connect with Angela on Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest and Twitter
Hi friend!
I'm Catia, a woman, wife, mama, sister, sister friend, you know -- I wear a million hats just like you.
One of my biggest whys is that I want people to feel good about ALL of who they are. Including you.
The threads running through all my work (I’m an author - The Courage to Become, I’m a motivational speaker - TEDx, Choose Joy or Die , I am a private coach ) are hope, joy and empowerment.
If I could choose ten words that best describe me I would say: honest, welcoming, giving, curious, loving, earnest, empathetic, spiritual, playful, and sassy. Let's add: adventurous. That's 11.
Nice to meet you!
Want to start feeling really good but not sure where to start? Jump on into our virtual classroom (complimentary of course!) and get a weekly guide on how to walk with confidence and joy! You are divine. You are magic. I look forward to serving you!
Confidence + Joy Weekly Guide
The Courage to Become | Aseky Bonnaire
“Everything happens for a reason”-says everyone when something unfortunate or inconvenient happens.
My name Is Aseky Bonnaire and I live for that quote. I’m a millennial mom raising three boys in Sunny Orlando Florida. I’m married to my high school sweet heart, and childhood crush. I like to think I have it all figured out, but I don’t, nor will I ever, but let a girl think she does haha. I guess I should go into depth more about myself. I met my husband when I was 11 years old and had THE biggest crush on him. We started dating when I was 15 and he was 16. We dated from sophomore year all throughout High School. We did homecoming dances, prom, graduation, the whole 9 yards.
After high school we both went to the local State College. After the first semester flew by, I decided, I love this college thing and I don’t want a baby to interrupt anything. I went to my OB to get a script for birth control, and that’s where I found out I was pregnant. Literally at that moment, it felt like my entire world caved in on me. I was just going to be another teen mom. I was going to live a hard life, I was never going to be able to be on my own 2 feet, and I would have to rely on my mom forever. After our family found out and all the initial shock went away, we actually got really excited to be bringing in a life into this world. Renaldo Jr (RJ) was brought into this world October 23, 2012. We were young, and didn’t know what the heck we were doing, but we knew we had each other and we wanted the best life possible for him. Throughout my entire pregnancy I stayed in school, and even a week after delivering I was going in to take mandatory tests. Renaldo (my boyfriend at the time, now husband) landed a good job, making decent money (for a 20 year old) in customer service (he still works there BTW).
We moved out of my Mom’s house when RJ was 7 months old. We moved into a townhouse 100% on our own. We saved up as much as we could from Renaldo working 5 days a week, 50+ hours, all while I was in school full time. We felt like ‘we made it’. I don’t know if you remember how it felt when you first moved out on your own, whether it was college, or when you got married, but it’s an indescribable feeling. Shortly after moving I got my first “big girl” job at the hospital working in finance. Because of that job, I took a break on school, but also because of that job, we could afford more things outside of bills. When RJ was 11 months old, Renaldo bought me an engagement ring and asked me to be his wife. For the next 12 months we planned our dream wedding, I switched departments at work so I could be home more, bought our first brand new car and went on a bachelorette/ bachelor cruise. Our wedding came and it wasn’t short of perfect. All of our childhood best friends were there, and it was just a great time with great people.
Shortly after our honeymoon we got pregnant with our 2nd son. My husband got promoted (this was his 4th promotion within the 3 years) but It was that pregnancy that I found my love for blogging, and connecting with other women via Instagram. That’s when I discovered the power of a hashtag LOL! Good pregnancy overall. He was born June 17, 2015. We brought him home to our little 2 bedroom townhouse. We knew we wanted to move into something bigger, but never thought we would be able to buy a house. Come on, we were only 22/23 years old. While on maternity leave, I got bored and saw an ad that went something like “you can have a mortgage as low as your rent!” so I called that number, one thing lead to another, obstacle after obstacle, few months went by, and we became homeowners. Shortly after becoming homeowners, I got pregnant with our third (totally not planned, I was breastfeeding. So FYI Breastfeeding IS NOT BIRTHCONTROL. It doesn’t work. Joel is proof haha) but he’s such a blessing and the perfect addition to our family. We literally brought him into the world in that home (no, seriously, I delivered him at home with no one but my husband and kids present). And now we are currently renovating the house from the floor up.
Not only were we home owners, we became homeowners at 22 and 23 year olds, with 2 kids, in the city where we both grew up, completely on our own, and not living up to the stereotype people categorized us in. There is such a negative stigma with being a teen mom. People automatically assume you’re going to live a hard and tough life. While YES, it was hard having a kid at 19, yes there were times we had no clue how we were going to put gas until the next paycheck, but did it stop us, NO! I feel that so many young moms and teen moms automatically categorize themselves and determine their future before they even give themselves a shot at anything.
Having a super supportive (emotionally and financially) partner plays a HUGE role in all of this. Renaldo and I are a team. We’re in this together. We grew up and matured together, and at the same pace, so we were always on the same page when it came to goals that we wanted to achieve. Buying a house is definitely not my ‘I made it’ moment, nor will it come from anything materialistic.
My ‘I made it’ moment came in motherhood. Because RJ, my husband worked for that amazing job he has. Because of RJ, I found my purpose. I know that being home with my kids is where my heart found a home. When I had no friends (because all my friends are normal, and have kids at a regular age) I found comfort in the community of the women of the blogging, and social media world. Making connections with other moms from all walks of life, different backgrounds, all ages, is where I found my niche. Blogging and sharing my life with other teen moms is where I found sense of belonging.
It’s amazing when something is for you, it just falls into place. When I told my husband I wanted to get back into blogging, literally opportunity after opportunity rolled in. It’s like God patted me on my back, placed the right words in my heart, and whispered, “This is for you. Share your life, share your experiences, be a light where someone is in darkness. You got this boo!”.
I know this was a lot to read, but a girl got a lot to share! I’m so thankful for crossing paths with Catia, and being able to share my story with you all! Thanks for reading and remember; whether you’re a teen mom or not, everything happens for a reason. What may feel like the end of the world is potentially a blessing in disguise.
I call this, Becoming: Not another stereotyped teen mom.
Be sure to keep up with Aseky on her web site, Instagram, Facebook and Twitter
Hi friend!
I'm Catia, a woman, wife, mama, sister, sister friend, you know -- I wear a million hats just like you.
One of my biggest whys is that I want people to feel good about ALL of who they are. Including you.
The threads running through all my work (I’m an author - The Courage to Become, I’m a motivational speaker - TEDx, Choose Joy or Die , I am a private coach ) are hope, joy and empowerment.
If I could choose ten words that best describe me I would say: honest, welcoming, giving, curious, loving, earnest, empathetic, spiritual, playful, and sassy. Let's add: adventurous. That's 11.
Nice to meet you!
Want to start feeling really good but not sure where to start? Jump on into our virtual classroom (complimentary of course!) and get a weekly guide on how to walk with confidence and joy! You are divine. You are magic. I look forward to serving you!
Confidence + Joy Weekly Guide
The Courage to Become | Ashely Solberg
Dearest beauties, my name is Ashley Solberg, and I’m the founder of She Is Blank Space. Myself and fifteen other ladies joined together to start a blog where we share about life, fashion, beauty and the things we love as moms. We believe there is strength in our stories as I learned strength in mine the hard way. Silently hiding behind my pain, I got nowhere, but once I spoke of what I had come through, I realized how much we need courage in ourselves to encourage others.
One day, I woke up.
No, not by the beeping of my alarm clock or my kids poking me in the side before sunrise, but I WOKE up.
My innermost being was so lost, confused, and just flat out blah.
Everyday…crickets.
I absolutely could not answer the question of who I was anymore. Sad, right? Yeah, I thought so too. This started a long downward before an upward one. It was a lot of questioning and addressing things I was holding onto before I could start moving forward. I dug in deep, cried a lot of tears from past hurts, anger, and whatever else I needed to face. This was hard for me, a person that seemingly had it all together, to admit defeat and that I was failing at “life.”
In general, nothing about life was bad. I had a wonderful husband, three beautiful children, a great paying salary job and by God’s grace, we’ve always had everything we needed. Something was missing though. That spark--I lacked passion and zeal. I allowed my light to be dimmed.
My bright light, little by little, diminished. The fight of infertility testing, waiting, hoping, with nothingness—dimmed. After finally achieving a long-awaited pregnancy, we found out we were having twins—my light started to come back. Five months into the pregnancy, one of our perfect, sweet girls had a portion of her amniotic sac break away and entangle her foot and cord. The day before fetal surgery, it caused her to go on from this life far too soon. I could not grieve, I had to carry her, I had to be strong for our baby still with us. I carried joy and sorrow for so long I didn’t know how to feel just one—light extinguished.
We named our daughter that was with us, Ella Joy, which means a bright light of joy. Every day I clung to her so tightly amidst my tears of thankfulness and sadness. For hours, I would just watch her breathe. Becoming a mother was everything I could have hoped for, I truly loved her with every fiber and then some. Every milestone first I was truly happy at watching her grow, but I also felt like someone was missing.
At my worst point, I guarded myself by avoiding going anywhere completely and when I did, fleeing as soon as I could to avoid a breakdown when someone asked the “are you ok?” question. I guess I knew if I allowed myself to truly process, it would hurt too bad, so I just kept going, delaying my grief even longer. The saddest part of all of it, is I knew better. I realized that battle would always be and I had a decision to make of how much I wanted to fight it.
When my daughter was 18 months old, I felt like I was ready to walk through the infertility treatments again towards another little one. Things happened much faster this time as we knew what treatment course worked. We were pregnant, and not just pregnant, but doubly pregnant. Yes, you heard that right…twins, twice. We were over the moon, but also fearful. This whole mix of emotions seemed to be a thing for us and I grew tired of it. A few months pregnant, I decided enough was enough and I was just going to be happy where we were at minus the fear part. I enjoyed every bit of the pregnancy and my little toddler sidekick by my side. The twins were born at 33 weeks, but being a NICU nurse at the time (funny how life’s seasons prepare you for what you need), I was comforted by my co-workers as I stayed by their side and stuffed them full of milk for nine days prior to going home.
Then, well…life. Along with experiencing the loss of our Emmy before, becoming an exhausted new mom again (I seriously don’t remember the babies first six months with that kind of tired), but mostly going through the motions and convincing myself I was ok where I was just trying to stay afloat.
Things were different last year when all this She Is Blank Space business started, and although I remembered those feelings, I needed to discover what God wanted for me right now instead of clinging to my past and those coulda-woulda-shoulda thoughts. I had a new perspective and needed to filter through what that all meant.
After the air finally cleared for me, it seemed like everyone I knew was fighting against things in their health, marriages, kids-- anything and everything.
And then it happened, this pivotal moment that caused everything to collide. I remembered. I remembered what it felt like to be a part of something bigger than me, I remembered the things I dreamed about as a teen that I wondered how they would happen, I remembered what it should mean to be a great friend.
Out of the normal for this fairly quiet individual, I posted a random video of encouragement for others as I was also speaking to myself. Out of my own path I was still walking, this door opened my heart for others again. Even as I pleaded for someone else to be picked, because surely, I was in no position to do this, I could not escape my butterflies. It became evident I just needed to jump into something REALLY out of my comfort zone. As someone with a supportive family and amazing circle, I knew that we were very blessed and not everyone had this. What better place to offer this to others than on a website that could reach far beyond what I could physically.
So, what to call this new venture? I was drawing a blank (see where I’m going?). How do I categorize this when I want it to reach all women in different phases of life? It was impossible to put a label on it, and one morning while changing one of the twins’ diaper, it came to me…”She Is Blank Space.” No, not the void kind of blank space, but the blank space gets filled in with something. She is…confident, a college gal, rocking at mommy’ing, learning to be whole...you get the idea. This name allows us to talk about things in the present, but also towards the future and what we are striving after as we walk the oh so many shoes we fill as women.
I knew I couldn’t do this alone as we all have a story to tell and I asked around fifteen other women to join alongside me. Some of us are married, mothers, others in college still finding out what we want in life, some love to exercise, some love fashion and so on. Can I just point out how amazing they all are? We are always better together as women supporting each other.
While you could give me all the fun parts of what we share like food and DIY all day, my hope for She Is Blank Space is for each woman to find community and encouragement from other women who have been there or are there. Although I wanted this to happen right away, we had to build our foundation and I also had to transition out of my full time job to devote the time needed. I knew it would happen, but in the meantime, remained faithful to my job as a nurse, staying up super late to prep things for the next day for posts and social media so I could use my break time to get them published. We started to bring in a steady stream of income between working with other companies and our shop, but it wasn’t quite lining up to my salary. Keep in mind, I was completely clueless about web and graphic design, traffic flow, utilizing social media for things other than posting pictures of my kids!
Around the nine month mark since our launch, it became clear we weren’t going to grow any farther until I had more time to give. With three kids five and under, being a wife, full time nurse and being involved in ministry, the only thing that could change was my job. So, I handed in my two weeks notice, which they were not happy about losing me, but understood. That leap was hard y’all; I knew the hubby and I could survive on Ramen noodles if we had to, but our kids could not. However, I had such peace knowing that this dream would not have given me without a way being made.
And boy did that happen. Money came in from a random account I had with my old job equivalent to a month's pay, one of my husband’s pay checks that never got deposited was discovered, our mortgage went down and so on. I remained baffled by this whole process, but it’s amazing to see seeds that have been planted over the course of my life blooming into something I never would have imagined for myself.
So here we are, right in the middle of this amazing venture, and it’s time. It’s time to dig in a little deeper, truly bringing realness, vulnerability, love. In a world full of perfect social media pictures, we are going to those places that are hard, but necessary for growth. As a person with a love of gardening, it’s easiest to explain it this way: before new blooms can be achieved on a tree or plant, you must trim back the branches. It seems like it doesn’t make any sense to “hurt” the plant, but it triggers it to say, “hey, I’ve got work to do, I’m stagnant, I’ve stopped growing, I’ve wilted, I need to wake up, I need to grow again.”
So how about we bloom together as we find our courage to become, ok? Life is far too short to be walked out without purpose or in dry, empty places. For you, your friends, your family-let’s jump into our dreams together and allow ourselves to be willing to hear and act upon the tugs of our hearts.
Hi friend!
I'm Catia, a woman, wife, mama, sister, sister friend, you know -- I wear a million hats just like you.
One of my biggest whys is that I want people to feel good about ALL of who they are. Including you.
The threads running through all my work (I’m an author - The Courage to Become, I’m a motivational speaker - TEDx, Choose Joy or Die , I am a private coach ) are hope, joy and empowerment.
If I could choose ten words that best describe me I would say: honest, welcoming, giving, curious, loving, earnest, empathetic, spiritual, playful, and sassy. Let's add: adventurous. That's 11.
Nice to meet you!
Want to start feeling really good but not sure where to start? Jump on into our virtual classroom (complimentary of course!) and get a weekly guide on how to walk with confidence and joy! You are divine. You are magic. I look forward to serving you!
