FINDING YOUR PURPOSE IN THE MIDST OF MOTHERHOOD.

There you are, again, sitting on the floor, neck deep in the drudgery that is rumpled laundry waiting to be folded and distributed to its respective dressers, wondering if there is more to life than this? Post kids, finding fulfillment becomes extra challenging. There are rewarding activities that come from a little self indulgence (going to hot yoga or reading self help books in the bathtub… oh, is that just me??), but I'm not referencing that type of fulfillment, I'm talking about actual purpose.

Many of us, men and women alike, will never even make it to the self exploration required to identify our purposes in life. Kids or no kids, it's a struggle that requires time, intention, and introspection. The few, the lucky, will seem to come out of utero primed to do what they were born to, and then there's the rest of us.

It's easy to get lost in momming and never make it out, sorta like when you dress your pajamas up with a jacket, call it an outfit, proceed to wear it all day, and then roll right back into bed with them still on. Self neglect is widespread in the realm of parenting, and it's a sure fire way to stunt growth. Many of us will go to our graves never having found our reason for living.

This is probably going to hurt a little, but your soul purpose (the play on words is intentional) is not “only” to be a mother. Ouch, I said it. Don't hate me. I say “only” not as a way to condescend or minimize the immeasurably important role that is motherhood, just to express that there is more. Let's break this down logistically for a minute, somewhere between 80-90% of women have children during the course of their lives. That's the bulk of the population. The world needs variety to make it go round, child rearing is more or less a given in a woman’s life. That's a whole lot of us filling the same bracket. Birthing and raising children is a requirement for our species’ survival. Yes, it has purpose, loads of it, but as far as being your reason for living, unlikely. The reason you're alive, yes- you, me, and everyone else, but that's completely different from your purpose in living. Make no mistake, a solid two decades of our lives will be dedicated to sculpting and nurturing our children. Flour, water, and yeast don't make bread unless crafted by our two hands. And, fostering the growth of our children is purpose laden, fundamental stuff. Decent humans make for a decent world.

But, here's the problem with parenting being a soul purpose- It ends. At some point, your children leave the nest, and your work is over. You'll forever worry about them and field the occasional phone call, but assuming you did your job right, they won't take up residence in your basement or look to you for constant support, post adulthood. So, who are you after that?

Unintentional parenthood came early for some, and that's put a strain on personal progress. Not to say that we don't learn copious amounts about ourselves during the process of child rearing. Strengths are identified that we never knew we had and priorities are shifted in ways they'd never have been otherwise. But, parenting also serves as a major distraction from the individual woman that resides somewhere in there, amidst the boo boo kissing, dinner making, soccer games, school drop offs, and dishes. The focus is on others. Much of learning yourself, as a woman, happens with the mistake laden, self indulgent and self absorbed craziness that is your entire 20’s. Motherhood and womanhood are two exclusive beasts, with vastly different types of growth inherent to each.

Others have chosen parenthood early. It’s a natural social progression to marry and start a family. If you were blessed enough to meet the yin to your yang in high school, that process is accelerated, and the aforementioned exploratory 20’s may have bypassed you. You might have checked right into motherhood or a career that fell into your lap, and has thus far made all of the choices for you. Pursuing your passion can be scary stuff and feel like an overwhelming responsibility. For most women, this isn't a conscious choice, but a subconscious avoidance. Knowing what feeds you as a woman is, for many, life’s greatest mystery, and entertaining the idea of figuring it out can be so mind boggling that it leads to paralysis.

Generally speaking, it's nice if you can identify what makes you tick before you procreate, but things don't always come in pretty little packages with perfect timelines. It's going to be difficult to do your soul searching with a bunch of hungry, dirty diapered toddlers tugging at your apron strings, but it's more than possible. It's imperative. Listen now and listen hard, if you want to lead a truly satisfying life before, during, and/or after children, you have got to identify what the hell your soul was put here to do.

This is always, every single time, going to involve serving others. Being instrumental in the lives of your fellow humans comes in a myriad of forms. Maybe you bring health and confidence by teaching yoga. Maybe you inspire young brains of the world by teaching. Maybe you prepare healthy meals that invite nutrition, or create music that gives a voice to others thoughts. Whatever this thing is, once you acknowledge it, a spark will be ignited that cannot be burned out, and you won't be able to turn your back on it without significant emotional repercussions.

I have a lot of things that I love to do. Decorating makes my heart go pitter patter, exercise lights me up, reading feeds me, cooking and baking warm my soul, but none of these things are IT for me. I exist to accumulate knowledge via reading and life experiences and then dispense that information. It is my raison de vivre. I can't not do it. Anyone who knows me will attest to this. If we’re in the same room, at some point I’m going to unload info that I believe will be of use.

Initially, I went to school for interior design, but towards the end of the program I realized that this field was too aesthetic for me, and centering my life around it felt trite. I resigned to make it a hobby, something to help friends with, and then promptly changed my major to psychology. A year away from a master’s degree in marriage and family therapy, I quit the biz to become a hairstylist. Probably doesn't sound like a smart move given my passions, but at the ripe old age of 27, and in the midst of a struggling marriage that was soon to end, I didn't feel equipped with enough life experiences, patience, or know how to counsel anyone through anything.

Doing hair was creative for me, but never purposeful. My soul found a way to emerge within the constraints of my job, as it often will, and what drove me was the interaction I had with the women in my chair, a captive audience to dispense the aforementioned information to. Two hours of face time lends itself to intimacy. Women who get their hair done with any consistency, spend more uninterrupted personal time truly engaging with their hairstylist than most anyone else. Bonus for the girl who loves talking about relationships and human nature.

After my third child, work became overwhelming, given my propensity for depth in interaction and communication. Between my job and parenting, I didn't have much left to give. I was running on empty. When we moved, I decided to stop doing hair and try my hand at being a stay at home mom.

Care taking fuels me in many ways. I'm a nurturer by nature, but my kids aren't interested in the ramblings of a 40 year old woman or why the mucilage emitted by chia seeds is cleansing to the digestive system.  After almost a year of having minimal outlets for communicating and sharing, angst set in, commingled with a little depression. Facebook and Instagram became unjustifiably interesting, and I often found myself lost in my phone, trying to fill a void with crap that other people were posting to fill their voids, i.e. pictures of dogs cuddling kittens and chalkboard signs for every non monumental event in their children’s lives. Not gonna work. I knew I wasn't feeding my soul, but didn't know how to remedy the situation. Doing hair again, and building a clientele from the ground up, wasn't realistic or financially sensible with three kids, and would land me right back into the exhausted boat I started with. I asked the Universe for an answer, it arrived in the form of blogging. When the inspiration showed up, it was like a sucker punch, swift and clear, stopping me in my tracks. I knew exactly what I needed to do and exactly how to do it. When you identify your passion, it'll hit you hard, there will be no denying it. Blogging may not be the end all be all, but my eyes are opened, and I have unwavering faith that my path will unfold before me if each step I take is conscious and with purpose.

Let's chat about how to work this out for yourself:

1. Be mindful, take moments for yourself to be still and listen. Ask for guidance, whether that's to God, Allah, the Universe, or your spirit guide. This may take time. Ask and ask again. But, you've got to be still to hear the answer. Make that space for yourself. Get off your phone and hide in the closet for five minutes. Go for a run without music. Turn off the lights when you're on a bathroom break. Quiet your mind in the shower. Breathe and listen. No excuses.

2. Pay attention to how you feel when you’re pursuing different endeavors. This requires mindfulness again. Is there anything that you're doing, be it ever so small, that ignites purpose? For me, when I'm talking to people about subjects that evoke passion in me, it's like my brain goes on autopilot, and I'm a bystander to my own words, because my soul is acting through me. It may be different for you, but there should be some sort of spark, a soul’s remembrance if you will, when you're in the zone of pursuing your purpose.

3. Read some books about the subject. See recommendations below.

4. Journal about it.

5. Talk to a friend, brainstorm, voice your deepest ideas and fears. Epiphanies are easily met when putting thoughts into words.

6. If there is a fear holding you back or a contextual issue, list the worst things that could happen if you went for it. And, remember, step one doesn't have to be moving to a third world country to join the Peace Corps. It could be as simple as organizing a food drive at church. Work within the realm of your own world.

7. Know this with complete assuredness, when you open the door to progress and desire, to something meaningful that enhances you and those in your wake, turning your back on fears, you will be doubly rewarded. Doors will fly open all around you. But, you have to take the first courageous step, keeping the fear of failure and inadequacy at bay, or you’ll never even see those doors. The prize of personal risk is progress and nothing halts progress quite like fear. Fear often comes in the form of excuses; “I'm too busy,” “I’m too tired,” “I’m too broke.” Bullshit. This is what you were born for. Get it.

And on that note, I'll leave you.

-Angi

GUILT OR PLEASURE, ROAD TRIP Part 1.

I was intent on ruining my good time as we crested the hills of Tehachapi. For the first three hours of our journey I felt sick to my stomach, a passenger during a drive where I could have contented myself with conversation amongst friends, or enjoyed music. I spent my time instead glancing out at sad dairy cows and tilled-up acres of farmland, consumed with wallowing in my own guilt. I didn’t belong here. I said it over and over. My 15 month old would need me. I had abandoned my family to deal with her misery.

With her natural disposition as an independent woman, and her joyful propensity for adventure, it was Sara’s firm conviction that life would continue on without me, I only had to go. We were now in route, three friends on their way to Arizona. Sara sang along softly to the lyrics as she drove. The wind coming in through a cracked window picked up strands of her golden curls and tossed them freely about in the air.

But I was intent on thinking about John, the kids clambered about him like a tiny mountain as we pulled out of the driveway. “Have a good time.” He had said it endearingly, like he knew the cost of my absence, but my enjoyment would make it a worthy expenditure. I was letting him down. We were headed to Cottonwood, Jerome, Sedona and ultimate freedom. He would have to do it all. The cooking, the cleaning, the butt wiping, the peace making.

The giant white windmills droned silently through the sky and led us to the valley below where we stopped to stretch our legs amongst the Joshua trees. I flung open my door and headed straight out to nowhere. The sand sunk into the backs of my shoes as I walked. I stopped in the thin line of shade provided by a sad excuse for a tree. My breasts ached, filled to capacity with nourishment that my daughter would never receive. I trudged back to the car and grabbed by handheld breast pump. I almost grabbed a container to collect the milk, but of course, there was no need. I popped out a boob in the evening desert air and watched as the white liquid trickled off the end and straight into the sand. This might have sent me over the edge if it wasn’t for another very dear to my heart friend. I watched as she tucked her hands over her own swelling breasts. She asked “Can I use that when you’re done?”

The desperateness that we were both feeling in that moment, she a mother to a year-old child just as I was, I realized we could wallow in our self loathing together, or we could mirror each other’s strength. We both began to laugh at the terrible situation, our liquid gold squandered to the earth like a splattered sacrifice to the journey ahead. Breasts resolved, we looked around us at the alien landscape. It was all here for me, right now. I was suddenly aware of the vacancy that unrelenting responsibility had left. What did I want to fill that space with? That day, absorbed in the now, I chose joy. We darted through the sand past the crooked giant hands of Joshua trees, reaching up out of the ground. We dragged sticks behind us leaving swirls and circles in the sand. I promised not to waste the gift that my family was giving me with this trip. And after that moment, it was an easy promise to fulfill.

As a woman I experienced a plentitude of wealth on that trip; rediscovering the delicacy of solitude, identifying and calmly challenging my social vulnerabilities, and restoring the awareness of my natural beauty by a hippy woman along the shores of the Verde River, (but that’s another story!). My family invested in me, and I returned to them as a more complete person, ready to resolve disputes, slice apples, hose off muddy feet and be loved by my favorite people in the world.

-Emily

IS VARIETY THE KEY TO SUSTAINED HEALTHY WEIGHT?

After my second child, at the age of 35, all of my go to weight loss tricks stopped working. I used to fast through dinner, a few nights per week, and that kept me right where I wanted to be. If I tried to pull that now, I’d gain weight immediately. Having a second child totally changed my lifestyle and increased my stress levels immeasurably. Being a full time working, nursing, and co sleeping (read not sleeping) mom left me exhausted and over run. The kids didn’t nap simultaneously, which meant no opportunities to mentally recharge, exercise had to happen before waking hours, and after getting home from work at 7:30 or 8:00, evenings were chaotic. This was a far cry from the relatively relaxed and routine life I’d been pulling off with one kid.

Dieting is a form of biological stress. Denying the body of consistent sustenance might work when the rest of your life isn’t nuts, but is sure to backfire any other time. I’m not advocating skipping meals, as I did, although now it’s a health craze called intermittent fasting- guess I was ahead of my time. Unfortunately, I wasn’t doing it to reduce inflammation or be healthy, just to be skinny.

I landed myself in the midst of adrenal fatigue (see my other article if you’re interested in learning more about this) with the stress, over exercise, and failed attempts at fasting, and gained 10 pounds lickety split. After years of working myself back into wellness and experimenting with several different ways of eating, I’ve figured a few things out about maintaining a healthy weight and feeling good. Sustainable energy levels are paramount, with three kids to chase after. I’m right around the weight I was before children (being thin isn't a natural state for me, if I eat like crap, I gain easily), and it doesn’t take an extreme amount of effort if you’re already dialed in to your wellness game.

1. Obvious stuff here, limit processed sugars and processed foods. They are laden with inflammatory ingredients, even the so called “healthy” ones are laced with soy, and hydrogenated oil, or carageenan. It took me 30 years to realize that even miniscule amounts of soy were the cause of my cystic acne. Check labels. Trader Joe’s is guilty of putting soy in so many foods you wouldn’t otherwise suspect.

2. I indulge in ways that aren’t off the charts unhealthy. If I bake, I use less sugar, like if it calls for two cups, I’ll use one, and generally substitute white sugar for coconut sugar (it’s low glycemic). For me, a common indulgence is chai with nut milk and a teaspoon of coconut sugar or raw local honey, or a hot cocoa with organic raw cacao powder, nut milk, vanilla, and a teaspoon of coconut sugar. Kombucha really hits the spot in the summer. Those small daily treats keep me honest. Time it when you know you’re most likely to cave to cravings. For most, it’s that post-dinner/ pre-bedtime urge that gets us.

3. I usually have three meals and one afternoon snack. Be kind to your body, and give it a break from digestion by not being a chronic snacker. Your system will run a lot more smoothly. My snacks are generally an apple or pear, a few almonds, raw veggies, or potato chips fried in avocado oil, which leads me to my next point.

4. Avoid canola and vegetable oils. They are GMO and heavily processed. They cause inflammation, and inflammation causes, you guessed it, weight gain. I use avocado or coconut oil for cooking, because they don’t deteriorate when heated. When heated beyond its smoke point, olive oil gives off toxic smoke (not healthy to inhale) and heat destroys its antioxidants, so what’s the point? That being said, I save it for salad dressings. You shouldn’t need anything beyond those three oils.

5. I don't go crazy in the fat department. I'm not avoiding it like the plague, circa 1990’s, but it’s not the second coming for me like it is for some others. My body doesn't like a lot of fat. I stick with healthy oils for cooking and salad dressings, seeds, and avocados.

6. Almost everyone is deficient in Magnesium, Vit D3, B12, and Omega 3’s. A good multivitamin for women that contains folate instead of folic acid (hard to find and a must) is Ritual. Being low on these nutrients can cause sleep issues, energy problems, and weight gain.

7. I eat healthy carbs, like squash, sweet potatoes, white potatoes (unless nightshades are out for you), quinoa, chickpeas, lentils, eggs, buckwheat, and the occasional organic rice. I try to carb cycle from one day to the next. If I have a particularly carb heavy meal one day (say, butternut squash soup for lunch), I limit them the next, usually by having a salad with protein for lunch. Or, maybe at dinner, I'll eat my main dish on a bed of steamed zucchini or sautéed kale versus rice.

8. I’m not a firm believer in high protein, low carb being the ticket to weight loss. That works for some, but not all, me being one of them. The effects seem to peter out after a few months anyway. I eat meat a couple times per week, and only once per day. Meat requires a longer time to digest, so it’s best taken at dinner. I amp up my protein with the addition of hemp seeds, raw pumpkin seeds, raw sunflower seeds, chia seeds, flax seeds, collagen powder, lentils, chickpeas, and goat cheese.

9. I rotate my nut milks, to avoid becoming sensitive to one of them, which would cause inflammation and weight gain. When I run out of almond, I switch to coconut. When that’s done I do hemp, or macadamia. You get the picture.

10. This is a big one and maybe a surprising one. I rotate my food. If you eat the same foods over and over again (total woman problem because we are such creatures of habit) you’re likely to become sensitive to them over time. That sensitivity may not have any physical symptoms other than gradual weight gain. I do best if I don't repeat a meal more than two times per week, no matter how healthy it seems. We have the same dinners no more than twice per month, and I really try to work seasonal veggies in, to get a good mix of nutrients. So, if I have a veggie scramble on Monday, I’ll have chia pudding the next, and then buckwheat the following day. At that point, I can start the rotation over again. Maybe for lunch, I’ll have sweet potato soup and Pepitas on Monday, then a large salad with hemp seeds, apple, and avocado the next, and on Wednesday I might do lentils with sauteed kale and goat cheese. Repeat. Or Whatever. As long as you’re not eating the same meals more than twice per week and are doing your damndest to avoid the back to back stuff. Some family favorites for dinner are vegan chickpea masala, buddha bowls with roasted chickpeas, breakfast dinner (nitrate free bacon with sauteed potatoes and peppers and onions), salad with homemade mint dressing and chickpeas, served with pitas for the kids, crockpot thai basil chicken over rice, beef stew, and skirt steak with an olive oil cilantro sauce and potato salad made with olive oil and fresh herbs instead of mayonnaise, veggies added to all of those in some form or another. Kale and zucchini dice up nicely into many foods without morphing the flavor too much. Check out the Mindful + Mama Pinterest page for these recipes.

11. I freeze portions of leftover dinners. This makes it easy to rotate lunches without repeating and major meal prep. Soup is another great freezer item, because it's inevitable that there's always too much.

12. I allow the occasional indulgence (like twice per month)- sometimes you must have a burger or pizza, period. I just try to balance it out by skipping the fries, etc, because to me, it’s not worth feeling lethargic or bloated for the next several hours. There are some foods that aren't ever worth dabbling in, because they are very disruptive to my system, like ice cream and high fat dairy. I'm happier and healthier without them. Know your limits and respect yourself enough to maintain them.

-Angi

LIVE LONG AND PROSPER. Know yourself to love yourself.

The past three weeks have been a whirlwind of emotions. My paternal grandfather, who lived a beautiful and full 100 years, passed away. I also attended my 20-year High School Reunion. Two completely different scenarios, each bringing an array of emotions, and leaving me reevaluating my past, present, and future.

I thought about the long life of my grandfather, the legacy he’d left behind. Grief is debilitating at times, but creates moments that push you to look at your life and contemplate how to make it more meaningful. Trite things, like the new shoes you want or your bad hair day no longer hold relevance.

My 20 year High School Reunion; fun! Before I attended, I went through my yearbook. Gazing at all the pictures and comments people wrote was comical, but got me reminiscing of my past; more specifically, the type of person I was. I wondered, if I could travel back in time and talk to 18 year old Nayantara, what would I tell her?

Toeing the line of adulthood, I was full of myself. I didn’t care what people thought of me, I had a smart-ass mouth, was egotistical, goofy, sincere, loyal, trustworthy, and compassionate about the things that mattered. Like a lot of teenagers and young adults, I was “finding myself.” Along the way of “finding myself,” I made a TON of “mistakes.” I hurt people and got hurt in the process. Events in my life rattled my core, yet I tried to brush them off like as though they didn’t put a dent in me. I became jaded, selfish, and lost. My life went this way for some time. It wasn’t until I walked into my advisor’s office that everything changed.

Dr. Arthur Wint, one of the most influential people in my life. I went to him to talk about my career path and left sobbing my heart out. He said these words to me five minutes into our conversation, “I see pain in your eyes.” My stomach dropped, I knew he saw right through my facade. On the outside, I was put together; on the inside, I was a hot mess. He encouraged me to seek counseling, along with pursuing my Higher Education in Marriage and Family Therapy. I wanted to be an FBI Profiler, and he saw right through that, too; stating I was "too nice” and that he envisioned me touching others with my “empathy and intuition.” This man is and was right about everything he stated; I trusted him, and I am so grateful that I did. His words led me to counseling. Through counseling, I finally “found myself.”

So, what would I tell 18-year-old me?

1. Have Awareness of Who You Are- sounds cliché, but think about it. Do you really know who you are? We stress every day about what we ate or when we’re going to find time to work out, but how often do you ask when you will learn more about yourself emotionally/spiritually? We tend to focus on our physical sensations, but ignore our emotional, spiritual, and mental health.

2. My students say I am a “mind reader,” and I say, “I wish.” I do know that there are patterns we lead, influenced by our pasts. One, which is very common, is settling for the love we BELIEVE we deserve. Yet, most people will say, at their core, that they don’t believe they deserve happiness; I was one of them, and I didn’t even know it. Lucky for me, I was 24 when I realized this, instead of 38. Yet, if I'd known this at 18, what a difference it would have made. Know yourself, truly know yourself. Seeking counseling is a wonderful way to start. Let go of the stigma you hold on to, look at it as a means of understanding yourself.

3. Forgive Yourself and Forgive Others- We are often our own worst critics. We tell others to forgive themselves because they “didn’t know any better,” and then beat ourselves up for making choices that are often subconscious decisions based on Ego. If you knew better, you wouldn't have made the decision in the first place. The fact that you are ashamed means that your soul feels it is wrong. It can take years to recognize your soul, to find that self-awareness. Others that have hurt you probably didn’t do it on purpose. They too were operating from their Egos; the subconscious survival mechanisms they’ve used all of their lives. Holding on to their misfortunes only ties you to their toxic behavior. Let go of the hurt and pain, embrace empathy and compassion for yourself and for them.

4. Be Vulnerable- We often negatively relate vulnerability to weakness. Vulnerability means showing your true self, flaws and all. We live our lives hoping people will see us one way, that they don’t notice our insecurities, our wounds, our hearts. I tell my students to ask their patients, “What’s on your heart today?” I then follow it up with, “I know it’s cheesy, but trust me, it works.” You may be scared to speak from your heart. You may not feel internally that you deserve others to listen to what is in your heart. I want you to know, the ones who truly love you want to, those that will always be there will listen. You are worth their time, and when you speak with your heart, you are expressing your soul’s desire. How amazing and powerful is that!

5. No Regrets, No Shame- Remember that movie The Butterfly Effect (small causes can have larger effects)? Every bad decision, painful circumstance, and toxic relationship made me who I am today. I am proud of the woman I've become. I know I am far from perfect, and I know how to look at that. I will no longer shame myself, beat myself up, or ruminate about something I cannot change. I am human, shame and doubt inevitably creep in. I am okay with that. My self-awareness has taught me to continually foster introspection and re evaluate myself.

LIVE LONG AND PROSPER.

-Nayantara

40 IN FOREVER 21- Coming to grips with the process that is aging.

The checkout girl, no more than 20, looks up at me. I'm not sure if it’s the lines around my eyes, the weary look of parental defeat, my inability to follow the credit card machine prompts, or my pile of washable cotton basics, and she says, “are all your kids at school today?”

A punch to the gut. Here I am, a 40 year old, in Forever 21. I’d previously failed to notice that everyone around me is 20 years my junior and every shirt is a crop top with some ridiculous bold phrase, “allergic to mornings,” “babes do it better,” “made in the nineties.” Ugh, or seventies. I struggle to find anything wearable in the store that used to be my cheap girl Mecca. It's been a few years since I set foot in the place, I’m now three kids deep and a stay at home mom instead of a hairstylist. At least when I did hair, style was an expectation. I was excused from the pragmatism of mom wear, because I was repping a hip industry.

For the first time, I’m self conscious of my presence here, painfully aware that I've passed an age threshold. I still feel like the 21 year old that wore risqué trends and walked around bare bellied like she owned the place. There are moments when my current life seems like a dream that I've stepped into, as if I woke to a house full of kids after a long night at the bar. Who even is this girl? And, can I call myself a girl anymore?

Sometimes it feels dispiriting to think about the excitement that I'll never have again, to be aware that parts of my life are now completely known, no mystery as to how the story ends. No day dreaming about my future house or children or husband, loved as they may be. They're here now. We’re living it. That girl is someone to reminisce upon, her adventures things of the past. I allow a twinge of sadness as I say adieu to her, the uncharted possibilities she encompassed, walking out of Forever 21 for what will likely be the last time.

I'm forced to recognize that when I was her and she was me, she was an unknown to even herself, fumbling through life and love, making mistakes left and right, assuming she knew it all. She was uncomfortable in her own skin, experimenting with ways of being, trying to find her self worth, her identity, approval. She was selfish, often hurtful with her thoughtless words, impatient and obtuse.

Becoming a parent forced an evolution that could only have occurred through the necessity to focus on people other than myself. Patience and selflessness created a sensitivity that was lacking. I've grown immeasurably because of the permanence that is my family, my responsibility. The loss of freedom and time that goes hand in hand with parenting has created a much stronger woman who prioritizes only the things that matter. I have a resilience to criticism that wouldn't have existed before, because the only opinions that truly matter are contained within the walls of my home.

My youth may be taking leave, but the truth is that the story of my life as a woman is just beginning. I'm more than just a has been buying $4 leggings at Forever 21. I'm creating futures for three beautiful children. I'm crafting the foundation for their youths, carefully curating experiences for them to build upon, opportunities to explore who they are and what they love. I'm busy solidifying identities to instill confidence and worth, exposing them to as much as I can to peak their curiosity and desire for knowledge. What's more, I'll get to witness the excitement that is their 20’s, stumbling from one experience to the next, as they learn themselves.

The day shall come when I'll see myself through their teenage and adult eyes, and I'll unravel all over again, our dynamics teaching me what is and isn't working.

As empty nesters, my husband and I will make ourselves anew in who knows how many ways.

The journey is far from over, an evolution after every season of life. I find myself with tears in my eyes as I think of that 21 year old girl, silly and excitable, naive and bold, searching for her place. But, it is with tears and joy, intertwined, that I picture myself as a 60 year old woman, story more than half written, finale yet to be determined. I adore that these two women will have inhabited the same skin, given breath to so many vastly different adventures, none more or less important than others to the making of a woman, the sculpting of a life. They will have seen through the same eyes, but interpreted what they behold from evolving perspectives, none more right than the last, just differently informed.

And, one day, my daughter will look into the mirror and behold who she was, is and has yet to become. Each layered upon one another, maybe not gone, just within. I guess a part of us will always be forever 21...

-Angi