Memoir

I was shamed and scorned for exposing the truth of my heart.

Does my nakedness make you squirm?

Does my unapologetic living make you uneasy?

Do you question my audacity?

Do you doubt my credibility?

That’s ok…I have no shame.

I didn’t just write a book, I composed a memoir—a deeply intimate collection of living truths and a documentation of an awakening in which one catches a glimpse of light peeking out from the shadows of places they never before knew existed. It’s a depiction of the map followed by a heroine who courageously ventures out of the comforts of home and into the unknown territories of her soul to excavate the buried relics of treasure-truths of who she is and why she came. It’s a celebration of the heroine’s fortitude and perseverance motivated by countless teachers along the way who challenged her to feel what before she only knew how to repress and suppress. It’s a blueprint for how to re-enter the world with a new view, and wings to soar the skies with clear vision. And It’s an invitation for others to find the courage to embark on their own heroic adventures, with the comfort of knowing they are held closely by the heroines who came before them.

A memoir isn’t just another book to shelf.

It’s an embodied, living, breathing soul.

A new life that is born from the womb of the heroine, who authors the story like a loving mama nursing her newborn.

For me, It’s beautiful in every way, to witness such honesty from myself. To celebrate my book-baby.

But unlike the celebrations that ensue when a human baby enters the world, not everyone accepted my book-baby with open arms.

Some rejoiced with me.

But many others met me with scorn, detest, admonishment, and abandonment.

This book-baby has cost me relationships with friends, family, and those who promised they would never leave my side. Those who told me they would always support me. Those who told me they loved me.

It’s amazing to witness how standing in our truth, raw, naked, completely cracked open and vulnerable could make so many people squirm.

But I know it’s not personal.

I’ve learned that there are those who will shame your authenticity because they frighten so easily of what it would mean for them to confront and express their own.

Facing my own nakedness offers an invitation for others to do the same. To see their own shadows. To sit in the discomfort of an undistorted reality. Authenticity is about truth—and sometimes the truth hurts. But it’s also what sets your free.

Yet not everyone is ready for it.

Some people prefer to remain veiled and disillusioned.

And you know what, that’s ok!

Not everyone is comfortable with being naked.

There was a time when I wasn’t.

There was a time when shame called the shots.

Not anymore.

I didn’t write my story to be loved.

I didn’t write my story to be praised.

I didn’t write my story to be understood.

I didn’t write my story to get recognition.

I didn’t write my story to get “likes.”

I didn’t write my story to get validation.

I didn’t write my story to get feedback.

I didn’t write my story to get sympathy.

I wrote my story

to heal

to love myself

to belong to myself

to inspire those who are ready.

I wrote my story to be the change so needed in this world.

I wrote my story to catalyze a movement and a mission.

I was strong enough to write what previously terrified me, courageous enough to share it for the good of the collective, and compassionate enough to treat myself with the love and kindness that I so deserve as I unravel the intricate web of stories that form the fabric of my being, while elucidating the gorgeous complexities of humanness.

Not only did I make peace with living a life that most people don’t understand, now I seek to unabashedly just live my life out loud.

I surrender to the fullness of who I am, and who I came here to be.

So I’ll continue to expose myself, heart wide open, shining like the stunning light that radiates from my magnificent heart.

If you bask in my glow…

Thank you, I love you.

If you cover your eyes in scorn…

Thank you, I love you.

The lessons are the same either way.

I am, because we are.

And so it is….

Want to read my story?

ReWilding: A Woman’s Quest to Remember Her Roots, Rekindle Her Instincts, and Reclaim Her Sovereignty.