The Courage to Become | Jessica Rockowitz Fielder

My name is Jessica Rockowitz, and I’m a mom of three – Hayley (13), Colin (4), and Graham (2). When people first meet me, I usually have one or both of my boys in tow. They’ll often ask if I have other children –  I’ve admittedly grown fond of the looks on their faces depicting sheer shock and sometimes horror when I inform them that I also have a teenager.

“But you look far too young to have a teenager!” they exclaim, taken aback. I smile and nod, now accustomed to this song and dance – and so my story begins.

My path to motherhood was one that I unexpectedly embarked upon at the ripe age of 17. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. As a straight A student with dreams of an Ivy League school and a career in medicine, I was supposed to spend my junior year of high school studying for the SATs and flipping through college guide books – not scrambling for extra money so I could scour eBay listings for gently used baby items because I could barely afford to put gas in my car.  

When I was about six months pregnant, my mom told me about a young parent program that her friend had heard about on the radio. The program was through a traditional four-year college that had about six spots for young, unmarried parents to live on campus with their children. The program also included room and board, a meal plan, and childcare for a very discounted rate. There was a catch, though – the program was located across the country from my mom and sister, who were a big part of my support system at the time. I was afraid that I’d be unable to raise my daughter without them, but I also knew this was our best shot at the life I envisioned for us. As silly as it sounds, I had dreams of a house with a playscape, Disney World vacations, and overnight camp. When Hayley was just shy of nine months old, I loaded her and our giant suitcase onto the plane to embark on what would be a truly life changing journey for us.

I wish I could detail everything that happened during those years at college, but that would be a novel in and of itself. I graduated college with a 3.9 and a BS degree in Biotechnology, accepting a research position at Harvard University for that coming fall. My daughter was almost six at the time and truly thriving, and I was getting married that winter.

I remember that the week I graduated college, I cut my Food Stamps card into tiny pieces, so proud that I would be able to stand on my own two feet. We signed the lease on a gorgeous apartment right outside of Boston in a safe, beautiful school district. We were financially and emotionally thriving – life was good, and we were happy.

Despite this, something gnawed at me and continuously stirred this feeling in my heart that I was unfulfilled. I beat myself up about this on a regular basis. What was wrong with me? Why wasn’t I satisfied with this beautiful life that I had worked so hard to create? I was always taught that the path to success looked something like this: attend the best college you can get into, land a great job, and work hard to climb up the career ladder. This was the linear path that I was on, so why was I so unhappy? I loved working with people and making a difference in their lives. In my current research position, this component of my passion was really lacking. On top of my work, I had been mentoring other teen parents and young moms for years, and it was a huge passion of mine. I told my husband that I wanted to go back to school to be an OB/GYN physician and work with young moms to educate and empower them. Life had other plans, though, and I decided to switch my career path from medicine to nursing in order to have a more flexible lifestyle because we wanted to grow our family.

Like always, I did my due diligence. I researched the best programs in the United States because just as my family had taught me, I wanted to strive for the best. I was accepted into and attended an Ivy League BSN/MSN Nursing Program. I was so proud of myself for getting in and worked hard to graduate and land what was my dream job at a low income OB/GYN clinic in downtown Philadelphia. I absolutely loved my patients. I was now a mom of two, and the working mom juggle was real. Still, I felt like I had reached an important milestone in my career and figured that the journey could only go up from here.

After a few months, that familiar feeling began to gnaw at me again as something stirred inside me and whispered, you’re not happy here. I found myself in tears on a daily basis and having a tough time getting out of bed each morning. I loved my job and my patients, but I couldn’t shake this perpetual feeling that something wasn’t right. What was wrong with me? I began to think that I was lazy and broken, and I just couldn’t figure out why I was feeling this pull to be away from what I had once again worked so hard to achieve.

While I was working in Philadelphia, I had also begun to dabble in the world of freelance writing. I signed up for a platform where I could find paying clients and began to take a deep dive into this space. I landed my first client for essentially pennies but was so thrilled that someone was paying me to write! I had always dreamt of being a writer and getting into marketing, but I was told that the world didn’t need more of us. It wasn’t lucrative or secure, and after all, I had a child to raise. Everyone persuaded me in the direction of stability, which equated to science and medicine. This was a huge reason why I had embarked on the path that I was on.

Now expecting our third (and last!) child together, my husband and I sat down one night when the kids were asleep. To this day, he still knows my heart more than anyone else in the world and is truly my best friend. He sensed that I felt the calling to not only be home for both of our kids, but to see where this career in writing could take me. I made the terrifying decision to leave the nursing profession that summer, when I was about 2 months pregnant with my now 2 year old. I never looked back, and so began my journey into the world of entrepreneurship.

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As an adult and business owner who is constantly evolving and fine tuning my craft, I didn’t know what it meant to be an entrepreneur. From a young age, I was taught to work hard, go to college, and get a good paying job. There was no other path to success in life. It was no surprise that I felt completely broken when I didn’t fit that mold. I’d land amazing job after amazing job, only to feel empty several months into it, all passion and spark completely gone. I began to feel ashamed, and it took a huge toll on my self worth.

Now that I’m an adult, I realize all my feelings and emotions were due to the fact that quite simply, I was never meant to work for someone else. Knowing what I know now, I truly think sometimes that we are born as entrepreneurs but depending on the environment we grow up in, we don’t ever get the opportunity to realize it. Did you know that many intelligent, hard working entrepreneurs make some of the worst employees? We are the ones who have trouble with things like following authority and staying on task. I spent so much of my adult life believing that something was wrong with me, when really, I just wasn’t on the right path for me.

The most ironic part of this is that I work harder now for myself and my clients than I have in my entire life. I work more hours per week than my husband, and I love every crazy minute of it. This is what I was meant to do, but nobody had ever opened my eyes to the fact that there is an alternative to the traditional mindset of college and the corporate world.

I had always dreamt of being a writer and working in advertising and marketing, but I didn’t know what that looked like. When I left nursing, it was almost like the finality of the decision weighed heavily on my shoulders. I had just worked so hard and had gone into deep student debt for a degree I didn’t love. What did that say about me as a person? Where would I go from here?

Many people ask me how I got started in marketing since I don’t have a background in it. I was a marketing minor in college, but everything I learned then is obsolete now because of the rise of social media and digital marketing. The foundation remains the same, but the logistics are so different. When I first began freelance writing, a small start-up reached out to me and asked me to run their social media. Their premise was a safe, COPPA compliant social network for children. They offered me the position because in their words, “I was a good writer and also a mom, so I knew their audience.” Thinking that it could be a great opportunity, I took it. This was the tiny stepping stone that I needed to open bigger and better doors for myself. I was in the right place at the right time, and though the start-up ultimately failed, I then moved on to bigger and better clients who taught me even more about the incredible world of content strategy and social media marketing.

Today, I have my own digital media agency and work with clients that I love and admire. I have also recently gotten into photography and launched my own photography business that I think really compliments my agency and has sparked this newfound passion that I never knew existed. I’m so excited to see where it takes me.

I dedicate at least one hour per day to education, where I listen to podcasts, read articles, and improve my overall knowledge so I can best serve my clients and continue to grow. I have huge plans for my future and where I envision myself. Sometimes I find myself daydreaming about it, and it takes me back to those days where I thought that the only correct path in life was to choose a career from a handbook and spend your life inside that box. There’s nothing wrong with this, of course. As one of my close friends once told me, she watched her father own his own business and never have any boundaries, so she knew she wanted a position that she could walk away from at 5PM. There is so much happiness on both sides – it’s just about finding which side speaks to you, your passions, and your priorities.  

Being a former teen parent, this transformation into who I am as a business owner and entrepreneur goes hand-in-hand with my transformation as a mother. I was so young when I had my daughter, and motherhood was not something I was welcomed into with open arms by those around me. In a way, I felt like I didn’t have permission to be happy and fulfilled in this role. I was supposed to struggle. It was supposed to be difficult. It wasn’t until I gave myself permission to be who I was – to leave a job that I had worked hard for, to have my second and third children – that I had the courage to really become the career woman and mom that I always felt I was meant to be, on my own terms.

I’m motivated each and every day by my family and by my desire to bring something unique and different to the world. I thrive on watching business owners reach their goals and fulfill their dreams. Being the one to help them get there is the most incredible and rewarding feeling that is almost indescribable. I no longer dread Mondays. In fact, I welcome them each week as I dive into my day’s work, able to drop it at a moment’s notice for a sick child or a school function. This is the life I dreamt of – and I’m living it.

I can’t sit here and pretend that it’s perfect, of course. I always joke that I have the best and worst of both worlds. It’s very true that I don’t have any boundaries. I work in early morning hours, late night hours, and on weekends. I work at nap time, bed time, and am guilty of using PBS Kids for a last minute sitter. Still, though, I wouldn’t change a thing. I have built this incredible lifestyle for myself, and I am so excited to see what’s next.

Here’s one thing I want young women everywhere to know –

there is no distinct path to success and happiness. It’s ok to be unsure about your future and what fuels you, even as an adult. It’s ok to feel fulfilled being a stay-at-home-mom, or not feel fulfilled as a stay-at-home-mom and know that you’re a better mom for your family when you work.

The path to joy is not linear, and you are not the victim of your own life.

If you want something, go out there and get it. There is enough for everyone, and don’t let any woman or person tear you down or talk you out of your dreams. Big risks can mean big failures, yes, but also big rewards – and is it ever a failure if we’re learning from it?

Essay by: Jessica Rockowitz Fielder

You can get in touch with Jessica here:

Jessica Rockowitz Photography  Media Agency  Facebook  Instagram

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Jessica captured this moment for us, and I love it!

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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

Sign Up Here



The Courage to Become | Kiema Rogers-Washington

The Before Photo

They say,“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger! As a mother sometimes we don’t know how strong we are until our motherhood is threatened. We as women give so much of ourselves to people, taking a risk to love and possibly not receive the same in return.

I met my son’s father when I was 20 years old and he was 37. I’ve always attracted older men, so this was no surprise. I had an 8 month old and I was out of a job. I met him at a party in Houston and fell in love with him through conversation. After leaving the party, we kept in touch through Facebook. I felt my young heart falling for him more, especially since he was sending poems everyday. It wasn’t long after I moved to Houston with him. I know it may have seemed fast, but I had made up my mind in the short 3 weeks of our dating. I didn’t know that he was a felon, nor did I know that we would be living with his 92 year old father. I was taking a risk by leaving the comfort of my mother’s home to go live with a complete stranger!

Soon we settled in and he revealed to me that he was a felon and it would be hard for him to find a job. I thought it strange but, because I was so blinded by what I thought was love, I decided to stick with it and do what I needed to do to make it work. But there was still a question in my head that needed to be answered, “What was I getting myself into?”

Although skeptical, I decided to ignore that little voice in my head. After all, he did help take care of a child that wasn’t his. As time went on he became more and more controlling.

I also forgot to mention that his very pregnant ex girlfriend (at least that what he told me) was also living there because she had no place to go.

I couldn’t go certain places or talk to family members.

I finally found a job working at Pappa’s BBQ in Houston. It was right down the street from Reliant Stadium where the Texans played football. My mother had come to get my son to spend some quality time with us and also, it was easier for me to work without having to search for a babysitter.

Back at the house my boyfriend was getting angrier and we were fighting more. He had thrown me up against the wall and choked me down to the floor. He was calling me all kinds of bad names like B-tch, worthless, and the worst of them all, you’re a horrible mother.

I was only falling deeper and deeper into depression, I couldn’t tell my mother or my family for that matter, how much hell I was going through. I couldn’t tell them that he was hitting me. I couldn’t tell them that he had gotten so mad at me that he tried to run his car into an 18 wheeler with my then 3 year old son in the car.

I stayed because I knew he was a broken man, he needed help and I thought I would be the one to help him. You see I’ve learned in this journey called life is that when you’re damaged, you have  a desire to help those around you, who are just as damaged as you. But as I stated before, I kept this secret for a while. I continued to live with him and I surely didn’t want to lose my job and move back in with my mother.

Fast forward to get the real reason my life began but also ended.

The very thing that would give any mother a reason to keep living. The night was quiet and I had just gotten off of work. I was tired and just wanted to sleep. An argument was started between the both of us and I opted to stop and not say anything. Like a lot of the other fights that began, it turned into a physical fight.

Some may say, “Why didn’t I call the police?” Well, being that I had called the police numerous times and no one came to the house or he would use his prison wit to get the police to believe his lies. One thing he could do so well, was to get me upset and play it cool with the authorities to be make it seem I was angry and deranged.

As we fought and argued, I decided to just stop talking because it was only making it worse.

He threw me down and raped me.

It was the worst feeling in the world!! I didn’t want my boy considering he was an ideal example of a father.

I kept my mouth shut!! I never told a soul what happened that night since I was already a victim of childhood molestation and no one believed me anyway. I felt helpless!!

Time went on and I found out I was pregnant. At the time we were broken up and I was working at another job, living with friends, and I didn’t want to look back.

Nine months went by and I gave birth to son. I had been so hurt and broken, that I thought about giving him up for adoption. But as a mother I couldn’t allow my son to be raised by complete strangers.

When someone has hurt as bad as this man had and raped you knowing that you didn’t want to have a child by him, what would you do?

I am a Christian and I don’t believe in abortion so I thought adoption would be best. I had a cesarean section and I knew my recovery would be hard and long. Soon after taking me home to his father’s home, he came up with this crazy excuse as to why he had to leave me and the baby alone. I was left alone at home by myself with a newborn baby to fend for myself. The only thing good that came out of that was his 92 year old father felt so bad for me that he gave me one of his cane to help me walk on. I was lonely, scared, and on top of that, fighting bed bugs that weren’t there before I went to the hospital to give birth.

But I kept pushing through the pain. A mother’s love besides the love of Christ is the greatest of them all! We have to thank God for being able to display that unconditional love to our and for our children. Eventually he came back to the house and of course I was still on my own considering the fact that he never really helped with anything.

Some more time had passed and we were living in our own place. He had left us once again and I had gotten used to it. We were living there a year but he had left and gone to live with another woman whom he promised while we were together that they were only friends. He had also recently gotten out of jail from spending a 4 months there, due to my mom writing a letter to Board of Pardons of Parol to tell them of the abuse that I had endured from his hand and mouth.

You see, sometimes life gives and opportunity to escape, but because we’re so brainwashed we find it hard to leave.

Some women ask, “Why didn’t you leave?”

It was so complicated!

Since my first son’s father wasn’t in his life I was trying to do the right thing by letting him be a part of our son’s life, regardless of the circumstances. See, I tried to give him a chance. Do the right thing!!

In July 2012, yet another argument and he grabbed our son and took him to the car. I ran outside after him. He locked the doors, backed up, let the windows down and yelled “Fuck you bitch I’ll see you in court!” Sorry to be so uncensored but that was the worse day of my life.

I tried putting him on child support and reaching out to him but nothing worked.

I received a letter in the mail stating that he was suing me for full custody and child support. Seriously? The nerve of him. I was taking care of our son and breastfeeding him.

I didn’t know where he lived so it was kind of hard to put and address on the child support papers I had filed before him. I was angry and scared.

The day was April 10, 2013. I had been in yet another abusive relationship and had gotten pregnant. I was 9 months pregnant with my third son when we were due in court.

I had gotten a lawyer and all he was had was his girlfriend. I had the emails where he called every name in the book except his child’s mother. Even armed with all of that, I was still ordered to pay $125 in child support. What?

I felt like it was over! How could I have visited my child when I didn’t know where he was living? The police kept telling me that it was a civil matter.

I was broken, poor, and pregnant. My mother held me in her arms so tightly as I shed my tears.

How could someone I thought I loved be so cruel. I was also ordered to have visitation every first, third, and fifth, weekend and some holidays. I was 23 years old and I was lost!!

Eight days later I gave birth to my third son and he took away some of the pain, but my heart still ached. My first visitation began the day I gave birth in the hospital. I was afraid my son wouldn’t recognize me. But when I got him he was different, he wasn’t smiling but pointing to everything instead of talking. I didn’t know what was going on at that house but I knew my child wasn’t the same. Years went by and months but nothing changed. I had tried to fight it in court two other times afterwards but was unsuccessful.  And to think that now til this day he hasn’t brought him to see me nor he has he abided by the court order.

I never knew how strong I was until being strong was all I had. Until God was all I all I had.

Here I am in 2018, happily married to my best friend and I’m now a minister. There have been ups and downs but God has kept me through it all.

I am due back in court April 6 of this year. Keep me in your prayers.

My boys

This is for all the mother’s who’ve lost their children and who have lost their innocence. Those who can’t seem to leave. I know how scary it is to start over.

And to those family members that don’t understand, don’t give up on them, they need you, their children need you!

-Kiema Rogers-Washington

After

Essay by Kiema Rogers-Washington

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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

Sign Up Here

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.

"LAM is a rare and progressive lung disease that occurs almost exclusively in women. It is estimated that for every million women, 3-5 will have LAM. LAM is so rare, that the medical community is not familiar with it, and for this very reason, my symptoms went undiagnosed for three years. Because of its effects, LAM is often misdiagnosed as asthma, emphysema, or chronic bronchitis. Chest x-rays are not sufficient to detect LAM." 

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

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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

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The Courage to Become | Shelly Weiser

I am originally from Louisiana and moved to Austin in 2011 for a change of scenery with the plans of going back home after a year or so. Three years later I bought my first house and I knew this was the place for me. I met my husband in 2010 we were married in 2011 and had an amazing little girl in 2013, followed by our super sweet son in 2014. Needless to say it was a whirlwind of five years, most of it spent just trying to survive the baby years. Now that my son is 3 and I have officially made it through that crazy time, I am realizing that I lost my self identity in the process and forgot that I was a woman and not just a mother.

Creating The Hive was basically me flying out of the tornado, raring to go!

THE HIVE

Coffee Shop + Co-working Space + Child Supervision + Beer & Wine = The Hive. Where you can be productive, or just be. The Hive is a brand new concept in South Austin offering parents and friends some much-needed time to get things done – whether working or just visiting with friends – while their little ones enjoy playing in a safe and fun on-site supervised area. We also have co working desks, a board room available, and a beautiful indoor and outdoor space perfect for meetings or just solo-working.

• What was one thing you always dreamt of doing, were afraid to do, but did anyway? (I can’t

really think of a good answer for this, but I guess this venture would qualify)

• How did it feel getting started?

When I first started this crazy journey it was exciting to say the least. It was something that I knew had to be done for so many reasons, for so many parents. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing but I thought to myself “someone has to do this, so why shouldn’t it be me?”.

• Tell us about some of the obstacles you faced when you got started.

My main obstacles we’re not having any idea what I was doing and figuring it out on a daily basis. While I love a challenge, doing it with two toddlers was almost too much of a challenge. There were plenty of days that I woke up and just wanted to stay in bed and hide from commercial leases and fire marshals and just go back to making macaroni necklaces with my kiddos. My amazing husband would help ground me and then kick me in the butt again and remind me that I am just as capable as anyone else to do this and that all of the hard times would totally be worth it. 

• What motivates you?

My motivation is twofold: the first is to prove to myself that I can accomplish anything I put my mind to and to go to bed at night knowing that I kicked ass at something, even if that something was just catching up on a ton of emails or making it through the day with healthy happy kids, fed and (somewhat) clean.

My second motivation is actually my children. I know that this business will affect my family and our time together, but knowing that my children will see their mom kicking butt and doing something big will give them a positive example for when they’re older and facing that same potential struggle.

• Which living person do you most admire?

This might seem a bit cliché, but I truly admire my parents. My dad started his own business when I was very young, probably the same age as my daughter is now. Growing up watching him work so hard for what he wanted, while it meant that he sometimes had to work late at night or on the weekends, was such a great real life learning experience for me. To see him overcome struggles and continue the amazingly hard task of owning a small business was truly inspirational. My mom was extremely supportive of him, there by his side every step of the way. I know that she was out of her comfort zone as well (not necessarily by choice) but they pushed through together and made an amazing life for my brother and I, who are now both self employed. I’ve always pondered the nature versus nurture question, but feel that it is probably a bit of both. I hope to provide that same real-life example to my children so that they can see  (and experience) that anything is possible if you put your mind to it.

• Which talent would you most like to have?

Hmmm, this is a tricky one. I’ve always thought it would be fun to have the talent of Barbara Eden in I Dream Of Jeannie. Can you imagine wiggling your nose and your kids have you eaten, taking a bath, and are in bed sound asleep? How amazing would that be?!?!

• What is your most marked characteristic?

I would honestly have to say my stubbornness. You didn’t ask for my best characteristic or worst characteristic so this covers both bases. If you’re talking to my husband about who loads the dishwasher the best, it may not be my best characteristic that he lists at the time. But in this endeavor, I think it has come in quite handy.

• What is your motto?

I haven’t given much thought to this but I would say at this moment in my life “just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming”. You know you’re saying that in Dory’s voice right now. :) 

• What are some things you are proud to have accomplished?

I look around at the amazing life that my husband and I have created, and I’m not sure you’d consider that an accomplishment but it is something that I am so thankful for everyday. Talk to me an a year and hopefully a will add opening The Hive to that answer.

• What keeps you going when you feel like you are knee deep in mud?

I will have to get back to you on that after I go respond to my 1,800 emails and then call the electrician, the accountant, and the caterer. Oh wait, what was the question?

In all seriousness, the only thing I can do is take it one minute at a time and know that every little tedious task will be worth it once The Hive is a well-oiled machine and I’ve accomplished exactly what it is I set out to do!

• What’s one piece of advice you’d give to women who are about to embark on the journey you are on?

Do ALL of your homework and make sure that you know 100-percent, or at least as much is possible, what you’re about to get yourself into. Be prepared for the days that you don’t want to get out of bed and be ready to pick yourself back up again when you get knocked down (isn’t there a song from the 90s about that???).  Know that it will happen more than one time but nothing that is worth it will ever truly be easy. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming. (you know you’re still singing that).

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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

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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.

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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

Sign Up Here

The Courage to Become | Laura V. Tolin

Fearless in the Face of Uncertainty

          Before I launch into this crazy true story of mine, there are a few things you need to know about me.  First: I’m a planner.  I believe more things get done, and are done better, when you plan for them.  I’m the kid who, for the middle school band trip to Disney World, created a full-color info graphic for her friends to decide what rides were top-priority and to get everyone excited about all the planned activities we were going to do (much to everyone’s chagrin). 

              Second: I believe, despite perfect planning, our attitude and current environment impact what ultimately happens.  Even deeper than that, I believe there are many realities possible in a single moment.  That moment right before you have a car crash?  It’s been preceded by all the moments in your entire life that have lead you to this singular reality.  Think about that for a minute: every. Single. Action.  Sound “woo-woo” enough?  Maybe by the end of my story, you’ll come around to this idea.

              Lastly, you should know I’m a mom of two living in Austin, TX since 2008 with my husband of 9 years.  Our kids are 2 and (almost) 5, we have a dog and a cat and a beautiful house on a very quiet street.  I’m originally from a small town of about 3,000 people in West Tennessee called Somerville, and my parents are still there, living in my great-grandmother’s Greek Revival-style house on Main Street.

          I have a Bachelor’s in English and a Master’s in Theatre/Playwriting.  I tried to plan my life out so that I would never do anything but write. But life had other plans for me: kids, cars, houses, travel, living far from family – things that require me to hold a full-time job that makes steady money.  So, I’ve been a conference coordinator for the last 10 years, and it’s given me financial abundance with which to live my life. 

          But something was always missing.  Even though I have so much, and am so blessed, I felt restless. I want adventure, in the deep core of me. This comes from spontaneity, which is something that doesn’t come naturally to a planner.  I have a deep existential desire to experience transformation.

          Two years ago, I would never have done the things I’ve done today.  I wouldn’t have been as brave.  But here I am, ready to tell you the impossible true story of something that happened to me in 2016 that changed my outlook on life forever.  Something that encouraged me to be fearless in the face of uncertainty.  It was a “lightning moment” that shocked me into a new reality.  May it give you hope that your own moment could happen at any time.

PART ONE: The Choice

          I stared through the foggy window of my mother’s guest bedroom, just before 9am on Wednesday, February 10, 2016, at a small, unassuming Cruise America RV that was parked across the street by the abandoned elementary school.  It was unusually cold outside, and I was exhausted.  Just the day before, around 4pm, I had made the decision to pack up myself, my husband, our three-year-old daughter and barely three-month-old son, into our Honda for a thirteen-hour-drive to make it here.

              Because Billy Corgan of the Smashing Pumpkins said he’d be at my mom’s house at 9am.

          The day before this fateful morning, I was out and about with my baby Eli.  I was still on maternity leave, and my time was my own.  I went to HomeGoods and bought some candles.  I snagged a grande vanilla latte.  I got some lunch at P. Terry’s Burger Stand.  The week before, I was having lunch with my husband and baby in tow at a little Mexican place, and there amid the queso and enchiladas, I told him about Billy Corgan and how he was driving around the country to interview people about the “American Dream.”  In my fantasy-land of maternity leave boredom, I had written a nice, concise response to Billy’s website’s contact form, suggesting they go to my mom’s house in Tennessee because she has a lot of cool antiques that I knew Billy would like.  I put my contact info in the form, hit send, and forgot about it.

              On this particular day, I didn’t check my email until I got home, which is unusual for me as I’m often glued to my phone.  When I sat down at my computer, I saw a notification on Facebook.  Billy’s most recent live video popped up, and lo and behold I watched him walk the train tracks of Selmer, TN – a small town very near my own small hometown of Somerville.  He was snapping pictures of the tracks and abandoned buildings with his friend, long-bearded and brainy pro-wrestler Jocephus Hudson.  I couldn’t believe they were so close to “home.”

              My son, Eli, was still sleeping in his carseat, so I continued browsing and checked my email.  And there it was: the subject line read “Is anyone available?”  It was from Justin, Billy’s friend, and it read:

Hi Laura,

Would love to know what the availability is of doing interviews in Somerville today or tomorrow if possible.  Could you provide me with a contact number for you or your relatives?

Respectfully, Justin

          I did a double, triple, quadruple-take.

          It was almost 4pm.  It was a Tuesday. 

          At this very moment, I had a choice to make.  At this very moment, there were a dozen realities swirling in the ethereal sea above my head, waiting to see which one I would choose.

          So, I called my mom.  That was the first step, right?!  Mom had to be on board with them coming to her house. My heart was racing.  Mom picked up, and I explained feverishly what was happening.  Eli stirred in his car seat.  He would be awake soon.  Mom knew who Billy was, due to my teenage obsession, and she screamed a teen-idol scream.  She said yes, of course they could come, but what on Earth…?!  So I hung up and responded to Justin, giving them my Mom’s number.

          I live in Austin, TX, and Somerville, TN is almost a 13-hour drive away.  My planner brain kicked in, and I started to do the math.  Meanwhile, Justin called my mom, and she graciously said she needed to “vacuum” before they came over, to which he laughed.  And they said not to worry - they’d come tomorrow morning, around 9am.

          My mom told me the details and I started going through scenarios.  Not only did I have a three-month-old, but I also had a three-year-old, and a husband with a job.  I could take Eli with me and spring for a last-minute flight.   But who knows if we’d make it on time. 

          Then I made the craziest decision I’ve ever made.

          I decided that we needed to drive there.

PART 2: The Visit

          I called my husband, who was a high school teacher at the time.  He was just getting out of school to go pick up our daughter from daycare.  I tried to explain what was going on.  Luckily, he already knew I’d submitted that form last week so I didn’t have to explain much.  David listened calmly.  It was around 5pm.  I asked him, ultimately, “what should I do?”  After a few moments of contemplation, he said he’d bring Nora home, and we would drive.

          Holy. Shit.

          I immediately threw diapers, clothes, and food into suitcases.  I didn’t have time to pick and choose, I just had to throw things in.  Eli was awake at this point, and started crying to get out of his seat, so I obliged him and, holding him, continued working.  I sat down to breastfeed him right before David arrived home with Nora.

          We made the necessary pet arrangements. I called my friend Becca, who was in the middle of getting her hair colored, to tell her to “stop everything, Billy Corgan is going to my mom’s house,” and would she take care of my cat?  My mystified friend said, “Ok?!”  Then, we dropped the dog off at our local boarding place. 

          We loaded up and left at 6pm – in the height of Austin traffic.  We could barely make it out of the city and I worried we had missed our window of getting there on time.  Eventually, we did make it out, and committed to the long drive.

          At 10pm, both kids were melting down.  Nora asked why we were going to NaNa’s house and said she didn’t want to go anymore.  Eli just wanted to be held.  We calmed them down, gave them some food (and milk), and eventually, they fell asleep.  We pushed on through the night.  I had to wear headphones blasting electronic dance music at full volume so I wouldn’t fall asleep and wouldn’t wake the kids.  I had to take breaks to interact with the breast-pump and try to feed Eli as well.  It was madness, but we made it.  We arrived at 7am – 13 hours after we hit the road.  Any later, and we would have missed the whole thing. 

          Eli was still sleeping when we entered my mom’s house.   I took the world’s fastest shower and tried to do my makeup.  I was more tired than I’ve ever been, but I was running on adrenaline.  I didn’t even know if Billy would come.  I didn’t even know if this was real.  My mind cooked up a whirlwind of scenarios.  What if they were just coming to make fun of us?  I mean, what if they weren’t nice people, what if this was going to be an awful experience? What if my teenage idol didn’t “like” me or acknowledge me or if I didn’t ask the right questions, or look good enough?

          Thankfully, I didn’t dwell on those thoughts in that moment. There were so many unknowns, my head was swimming, but the exhaustion didn’t allow me to fully feel the fear.  All I thought was, “Will he show up?  Will they really show up?”

          Little did I know what was going to happen next.

          At 9am on the dot, the RV parked across the street by the abandoned elementary school.  Eli was sleeping and Nora was happily playing with my parents.  David and I watched as Billy and his two friends, all impossibly tall dudes, stepped out of the RV and rounded the big wraparound porch to the front of my mother’s house.  David checked in with me, “Are you ready for this?”  Bleary-eyed, more tired than I’d ever been, I smiled, and my Dad opened the door for them to walk through.

          I want to stop here and say this: I could have done anything in that moment. I could have exploded into tears.  I could have hidden in a corner.  But I stood there, faced Billy like he was a normal person, and shook his hand.  We explained that we drove through the night, and he was impressed.  What followed was Billy Corgan walking around my childhood home, admiring my mom’s myriad collection of antiques, looking into my childhood bedroom (what?!), sitting upstairs in our informal den and talking to us about his film project. 

          Holy. Shit, y’all.

          He interviewed my mom and I sat on the stairs and listened.  Then, he asked me to come over and interview with him, too.  He asked me questions that I had ALWAYS needed to be asked by someone – let alone by my favorite rock star. I can’t divulge much here as we signed a nondisclosure agreement (whoa!) but I will say, it was a lot about my upbringing and my hopes for the future.  I told Billy that he was hitting so many huge questions for me, and at the end of the interview, I cried, and he hugged me.

            After the interviews, Justin suggested that we all take photos, so I have photographic evidence, y’all – and videos.  Billy even stepped into the living room and played the piano with my daughter.

           The visit lasted about two and a half hours.  When they packed up and were all done, I went immediately to lie down on the couch and just let everything go.  I knew this was something epic, but I had no idea what it “meant” or even how to process it!  I messaged my old high school friend on Facebook and we met the next day for coffee in midtown Memphis.  I showed him the photos and videos and it was so surreal.  But even more surreal was seeing him and talking to him after fifteen years of very little contact.  It’s amazing what these big moments in life will make a person do.

          We stayed at my mom’s house an extra day and then we had to pack it up for the long drive home.  I was more thankful for my parents in ways I have never been before.

          You see, every single moment in my life had led me to this moment. If anything at all had been different, I wouldn’t have been able to make this journey and have this experience.

PART 3:  Returning Home

              It was close to Valentine’s Day and I had already booked a “crazy” trip to Houston for us to see a Cirque du Soleil show and stay in a hotel for the first time with kids – little did I know that we would be driving back to Texas from the craziest trip of our lives.  On Friday, we landed at the Houston hotel and crashed.  Staying in a hotel with two little ones and seeing the Cirque show was easy compared to what had just happened. I kept the experience quiet on social media and tried to process it throughout our little weekend together.

              We finally made it home on Sunday and I can only describe the feeling as that sinking emotion you feel after you’ve planned a wedding and it’s over: you get to the highest heights and then there is nothing left.    

              After I became a mother, I felt like a lot of “what if” doors closed for me.  What if I wanted to sleep in ‘til noon and have no one bother me?  What if my husband and I want to stay out ‘til 2am at a concert?  What if I wanted to just pack up and go on a trip one day?  What if I wanted to devote all my free time to writing and writing and writing?  I thought all of these what if’s were now impossible.  But now I see that nothing is impossible, especially with children – with enough consideration, they can come along for the ride, or they can be left safely with someone else, or they can be right in the mix of everything.  Adulting can be super hard, but we can’t let this life get to us.  We have no idea what the next day will bring.

              Since my experience, I have said “yes” to so many things in life and have received a resounding “thank you, here’s more!” from the universe.  Maybe It’s all about perspective, but I have asked the universe to bring me exciting opportunities and it has delivered.  That’s not to say that I don’t plan out these things, I most definitely do, but I am less afraid to do them now.  I am not afraid to ask for what I want and what I need.

              It’s only when you are knee-deep in uncertainty that you can make that giant leap forward.  When you’re unable to think, and there are so many thoughts swirling...  When everything you’ve ever done or known is staring you in the face and telling you that you need to back down – but instead, you rise up.  I can only liken it to giving birth – pushing past that point of complete uncomfortableness, to appear on the other end with a tremendous sense of relief and a new life in your hands.  We birth ourselves again and again in this life, moving inward and searching, being challenged outside, and finally emerging as something new. 

              There are so many factors that go into getting a person somewhere - physically, mentally, emotionally.  Every single thing you do takes concerted effort.  Pat yourself on the back for the little things and keep plugging away, because one day that “big” moment will come along and you’ve got to be ready.  If any one thing had been different in my life – my job, my husband (how amazing that he helped me get there!), my kids, my parents, even the place where I grew up, my actual mother’s house, my physical wellbeing that day -  ANY one thing, I would not have gotten to experience this.  The experience itself was great, but the getting there was the epic part.  The getting there was the adventure.  And afterwards, now, is the new world created by it.

---

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

Sign Up Here



The Courage to Become | Penny Williamson Lucas

I am a survivor.  I am free.  I am blessed.  

I say these words to myself often. I have survived abusive marriages and my son dying in an accident when he was 9.  Some days I wonder how I’m still standing but then I remind myself that it’s God’s grace and love and the love of the people in my life.  

Timmy was my only child from my marriage to my high school sweetheart.  My husband was a young alcoholic who saw his dad abuse his mom so it was a normal thing in his world.  I divorced him when I was 21.  In 1999, Timmy was 9 and he fell on an electric fence while visiting his grandparents and his airway closed up.  He was alone at the time so no one was there to save him.  I was completely devastated.  I grew up in church.  Every Sunday morning/night and Wednesdays we were in the building.  When Timmy died, especially in such a horrific way, I was furious at God.  I didn’t go to church, pray or even let myself think about Him.  Why would he take my only child?  I couldn’t understand it.  Little by little my faith reminded me that God is in control.  I will never understand why my child died but I rejoice in the fact that I will see and be with him again one day.  I cherish every memory that I have.

Seven months after Timmy died, I was fortunate enough to get a job at the Texas School for the Deaf in the middle school office.  Being around the students helped fill the hole that losing Timmy had left in my life.  The friends I’ve made in the last 18 years here will be life long friends.  About 10 years ago I started doing community service projects with the students and I love it so much.  We have prepared lunch at the Ronald McDonald House, served lunch at a soup kitchen, reorganized the library and did sign language classes for the kids at the Helping Hand Home and various fund raisers to send money to different organizations.  Helping children fills me with much joy.  

I met husband #2 in Dallas night club in 1997.  This marriage had a new set of complications because he is black and in the 90’s it wasn’t that common around Austin.   I saw a whole different side of life and it was not always nice.  As diverse as Austin has a reputation of being, when I was out with him, I was treated horribly.  We would get seated in the worst part of restaurants and our service was not as good as I got when I was not with him.  I had no problem speaking up about it but it was unreal to me.  I didn’t let that affect my marriage or my desire to have children.  We are blessed to have 2 daughters who bring so much happiness and laughter to my life every day.  I was in that marriage for 8 years and though there was no physical abuse, there was mental and emotional abuse.  I wanted to make the marriage work badly.  We went to counseling more than once and I tried my best.  I couldn’t be divorced TWICE!!  But when you are married and feel single, that is no way to live.  I struggled with the thought of God being upset with me for yet another divorce.  Finally, I just didn’t think that He would want me to be so unhappy and He knew how hard I tried so I went through divorce #2.   

By 2008 I had been single for 5 years, really tired of the dating life.  I met, online, the biggest mistake of my life.  An ex-con who was the sweetest talking, most persuasive man I’ve ever known.  I believed everything that he said, including the lie that he wouldn’t hurt me again every time he did it.  After we were together for 6 months, he went back to jail, where I married him…I know, what was I thinking!?!?!  For the next 3.5 years while he was in prison, I was the loyal wife that visited every weekend, wrote every day,  and put money on the books.

When he made parole and came home, he put my daughters, my mom and me through hell for the following 3.5 years.  He was abusive in every way.  He would disappear, my money would disappear, my peace disappeared. I thought he was going to kill me more than once.  At the end of September 2015 was the final time I suffered his abuse. I finally followed through with filing charges and he fled the state.  When he tried to contact me, I didn’t respond. I had no guilt in filing for this divorce.  

The most often asked question to abused people is why did you stay?  It’s a very frustrating question to be asked because it’s impossible to explain.  People that know me and those that meet me can’t believe I was in an abusive marriage because I’m not meek or weak by any means.  It’s different for everyone.  I wasn’t financially dependent on him, quite the opposite.  I didn’t need on him for shelter or food.  We didn’t have children together.  I didn’t NEED him but he convinced me I did.  He isolated me from my friends and some of my family.  He made me feel that I couldn’t keep a marriage going and that no one else would ever want me.  He made me forget that I was God’s child, precious and worthy of being treated that way.  I was told once that abused people will stay in that relationship until they hit a wall and I found that to be 100% true.  I was so fortunate to get out alive.  

I was that girl that always needed to be in some type of relationship.  There was a desperate need to fill a void that I had inside me.  For a year after that final assault, I went into hibernation and healed.  The joy that he had taken away came back.   My girls, family, friends and church wrapped me so tight in love, forgiveness, grace and understanding.  I finally know that I am 100% awesome all by myself.  I don’t need a partner to fulfill me, I am more than enough.  I had constantly given that power to other people.  No more.  

For those who are in an abusive situation.  You are worthy of love, you are special, you deserve better.  Trust that I know it’s not easy to leave.  I know others don’t understand that….I understand 100%.  You are God’s child and He wants you to be safe and happy…so do I and everyone that loves you.  You have probably been convinced that no one else loves you…please know you ARE LOVED!!!

For anyone who has lost a child, the loss is always there but the burden of it gets easier to bear as time passes.  I focus on the almost 10 years that I was blessed to have him here as my boy.  I celebrate his life and that I was so lucky to be his mommy.  I wouldn’t trade that for anything. 

I am more thankful than I can express for my mom and my girls.  They have loved and supported me at my worst and my best.  As much as I tried to shield them, they had to live through a lot of the horrors of my last marriage had and I will forever regret that.  My sister, Bonnie and 2 cousins, Terri and Laura (the Fearsome Foursome) get me through life in a constant group text.  We support each other daily and I don’t know what I’d do without them.

I thank God for giving me everything that I have.  With everything that I have endured and overcome I love the person that I am.  I am a good mother, daughter, sister, friend.  My life is peaceful.  My finances are secure.  My house is full of laughter and love every day. 

When Catia asked me to do this blog and I looked at some of the former blogs, I was a bit intimidated at first.  I don’t have a business, I haven’t written a book, I haven't finished college (yet).  I’m just a country girl from Mississippi that has been through a few things.  The more I thought about it, there are probably people reading this that have lost a child or have been in, or are still in abusive situations.  My prayer is that I can give someone hope that things can get better.  I am proof. 

I am a survivor.  I am free.  I am blessed.  

Essay by: Penny Williamson Lucas

---

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

Sign Up Here

Saying Goodbye

Beau came to me when he was 4 months old, a rescue. The rescue center promised my then boyfriend that the dog, then named Snoop Dog, would only grow to be 45 pounds. When Snoop Dog showed up as my Christmas present I was not the happiest camper. I didn’t think I had the time or money for a dog. Turns out I did.

But surely he couldn’t keep the name, Snoop Dog. My goodness.

I was 21 or so and loved all things sports, so I thought about naming him Major or Mack, because I did graduate from UT after all. But those didn’t seem to fit.

Bo Jackson was my favorite athlete growing up. I mean, who was more amazing than Bo Jackson? But my dog looked more distinguished than a “B O” or so I thought, so I gave him a little southern flare. Beau. He would be Beau Jackson.

Beau and I became fast friends and then I became his mommy, and he became my Beau Beau. I worked in hospitality through all of my twenties and early thirties, which meant long hours. Which meant Beau needed a mid-shift break. I’m not kidding.

I would ask, plea, and at some point pay (I think) my cousin, my Comads and my brother, David, and anyone else who had time to go walk Beau in the middle of my work shifts. I was so crazy about it, I even made these people, doing me a favor, sign in and out with a time stamp. I was crazy in love with Beau and also a little crazy. I wanted the best for him.

Beau lived with me in Houston and then Austin, and then we made the long trek back to the RGV. Beau was with me through ALL the boyfriends, always gracious, maybe thinking to himself, how long are we going to be around this guy?

Back in our heyday, he and I would run to the park, soccer ball in hand and then play soccer together. My gosh. The legs he and I used to have. Greeks were jealous.

Beau went with me on road trips, to the lake, the beach, and always a welcome guest.

One day, I was thinking about dating this one guy – we’ll call him Bob. And Bob said, I’d like for you to come visit me, I can’t wait to see you! And then he said, but your dog has to sleep outside. I said, no way. Beau’s with me. He said, you’re picking your dog over me? I said, I don’t even have to think about it. Beau was my priority.

Every August we celebrated Beau’s birthday. The first few years, digital cameras weren’t really a thing – so I don’t have too many photos, but we’d celebrate with cake. Not special dog cake, Pilsbury cake, because – let’s get serious, I wanted it. And I knew he’d like it. Some years it was a swim at the lake, other years it was a dog party, but every single year, a cake, birthday hats and singing. Eventually the gig was up and so I started buying him special dog cake.  

When Beau was 5, he started to have leg surgeries. My goodness. Over the course of his life, Beau had 5-6 surgeries, maybe more, and they each cost a pretty penny. I went half-and-half with a boyfriend one time, maxed out my credit card 3-4 times and then I finally wised up and started saving some money for Beau’s fund. Every surgery, he was a champ. Beau was half Great Dane and half Black Labrador, so his legs were finicky. But he was strong and so beautiful. The most handsome. The King of Kings like my mom called him.

A few weeks ago I realized that God gave me Beau. Beau was God’s hands here on earth, working on me and growing me.

When I met Beau, I did not know how to care for someone or something and I certainly didn’t know how to love. Beau taught me dedication, devotion, consistency.

Love is an action, love happens every day, love feels good.

Beau walked me through my single years, moved with me to countless houses and apartments. He even entertained my stint with a neighborhood cat, Charles. He and Charles were precious. Every night when I’d get home from work, Beau and Charles and I would walk around our apartment complex together. It was a sight to see. A 100 pound dog, an 8 pound tailless cat, and me, free walking, no leashes, together.

Beau walked me into womanhood.  Beau walked me into being a wife, and a mother of two girls. I can say with absolute certainty that I would not be the woman I am today without Beau’s spirit, without his steady nature, without his love.

Beau took every change in our lives with grace. New car? Let’s do it! New house? Let’s give it a try! New food? Okay! New baby? Okay! Another new baby? Sounds good! New bed? That is what I’m talking about!

Then a year ago, our family dog, Mischa passed away. She was 14 and Beau was 12. And just after she passed, he started to let go a little. It was as if he was letting her get all the love and care she needed, and then when she passed, there was space for him to get care. So for the last year, Beau’s body has been loved on and cared for – extra.

A few months ago, Beau’s leg function really started to decline and he began needing assistance getting up and down stairs, then no stairs at all, and his joints just kept deteriorating. And I started to really think, wow, this is really happening. How do I do this?

I knew that I wanted to honor Beau in the highest way I knew how. I knew I wanted to send him out and into the next chapter of his life wrapped in love. I wanted him to be joyful and peaceful.

But how?

I watched him and talked to him. I literally had conversations with him. I said, “Hey Boo Boo Bear, this is what’s going on, what do you think?” And we would just sit and exchange energy. I would feel him and he would feel me.

I called in my therapist who does Quantum Healing, and she helped us. I called in a specialist who does energy healing, and we had sessions with her. I took him to his Orthopedic Specialist, we sought help from everyone. He was on prescription medication, yes, but also a ton of natural supplements and essential oils and flower essences.

Some of you may think I’m crazy, and that’s okay. I know, these things sound out of the norm. Energy healer? Flower essences? Yes. I believe in these methods 1,000% percent.

When Beau could no longer walk up and down stairs, Guapo and the girls and I moved our life to the first floor.

Then a few weeks ago, I started to overnight next to him, on the floor. We would just have an old school slumber party. It was a great feeling, like he was a puppy sleeping in my bed again.

Then last week, I left to California for a meditation retreat. While I was there, I focused on Beau, on his energy. I focused on connecting with him and wrapping him in white light. I dedicated every yoga, Qigong, and mediation session to him. As much as my little brain and spirit could concentrate on him, I did.

When I got back to Austin, Beau hurt his leg so bad that he was wincing when I tried to move him, and then I knew, it was time.

I called in the energy healers again and made an appointment for Beau to get his angel wings.

Making the decision to call, and the call itself is indescribable.

We spent his last days enjoying the sun and green grass as much as we could, eating treats and being so very close to each other. I made our slumber party room beautiful with candles and flowers. If we were sitting or lying, we were touching and syncing breaths.

And then this morning, as the sun was shining. Beau and I shared worship music, bacon, a spring breeze and his last moments. He looked handsome and had joy in his heart, even on his final day.

Two things.

I am in grief. After Beau left our home today, I showered and let the water run over me and I closed my eyes, and for a split second, I had no idea where I was. I had to open my eyes and touch the shower walls to check-in.

And

Thank you, God. Thank you for Beau. Thank you for sending Beau Jackson, to be your hands here on earth for me. He is one of the greats.

--

Beau Jackson,

Quite a love letter, huh buddy? I know. Listen, you’re my guy. This is just the beginning of me loving on you in your new form. Remember, I told you we’d be able to feel each other on the other side? Well here we are. This is the start of that. Mommy feels you, here, right now. The space you occupy in my heart will continue to get bigger and bigger. Beau Jackson, mommy loves you. I’m going to go to sleep now. Let’s meet in our dreams.

We are packing our bags and moving to....

Guys, we have 3 weeks left in Austin. I can't even believe it. 

The place that is OURS, the place where Beau and I earned our stripes and ran 6 miles to the park...before my work shifts!  

The place where I met my husband and married him under an oak tree.

The place where I prayed for my baby girls, and brought them into the world. The place that has endless tacos and football. We are saying goodbye. 

As a family, we have been on quite a ride since 2012. Guapo and I met and dated and married. We had pregnancy scares (health of our oldest), we went through IVF (so hard), we moved houses 3 times, said goodbye to our beloved Mischa, and had career roller coasters. We have lived a lot of life in 6 years - and we are ready to push pause. 

As a family we decided to take some time and get off the hamster wheel of life, to sell and giveaway our stuff, pack our bags - and find some quiet to time to be with each other. 

May 5th is our last day in Austin, and a few weeks later we are moving to Panama!!!!! 

I don't have a lot of answers. How long will you be there? What will you DO? All we are really focused on is regrouping as a mama, papa and two young girls. Just being with each other, taking some time to adventure and really be intentional about our time together. 

Society says that now is the time for me to strike while the iron is hot. This career of mine is just getting up off the floor. Books are selling, I'm getting paid speaking gigs, I'm doing a TEDx talk in a few weeks for crying out loud! (Super fun and amazing). But I am just going to stop - and live and let the land lie fallow. I trust that God will make use of this time and will make use of me and my gifts on the other side of this. 

I moved to Austin in the fall of 2001 as a freshman in college, and have lived here on and off, but mostly on. 17 years! Holy cow. 

I'm one of those people who says "It wasn't like this when I was in college...." ha! 

I am excited about slowing down and BEING with my family.

I will miss Austin, and maybe we'll come back, but maybe we'll find a new place to plant roots and enjoy this little life of ours.