Welp. Here we are again.
Have you ever woken up in the middle of the night and just known you needed to get out of bed because something was calling for your attention?
Welp, I’ll admit that happens a lot for me. Haha. But tonight, the calling was very clear.
The women of my lineage who came before me were calling, and the message was received.
I feel this deep pull to heal the women who came before me. And over the last few days, I’ve been seeing the messages unfold right in front of me, especially in my relationship with my daughter.
The resistance. The friction. The moments when things feel harder than they should.
I’m learning that when things get tough, sometimes we’re being invited to pause and ask: What is being asked to be witnessed here?
What patterns am I repeating? What might have been passed down to me? And what am I ready to do differently?
Even as I sit here writing, the messages are coming in STRONG. But I’m also learning that I need boundaries, even with Spirit.
I cannot take on every energy I feel as my own. There’s a difference between carrying someone else’s pain and allowing it to be witnessed.
And perhaps that’s part of the healing, too. How many women before us were taught to carry everything? Their families’ needs, their partners’ emotions, their children’s struggles—often at the expense of themselves?
How many of us are still doing the same?
The imposter syndrome is REAL.
As I write this, I keep asking myself, Who am I to help other women heal their lineage?
So, naturally, I pull out an oracle deck and ask for guidance.
And the card I pull… you already know.
Um… NO, Spirit. That’s literally why I’m asking for help. Hahaha.
But here’s the thing. I may not have the words to explain it, and I certainly don’t have the entire roadmap figured out. Yet when I’m in a room with women, I can feel the undercurrents. The things left unsaid. The patterns waiting to be brought into the light.
My logical mind wants to understand exactly how this works. But perhaps I don’t need every answer before I allow myself to explore what this calling means.
Perhaps I can be both the woman who feels deeply called and the woman who is still learning.
And then there’s the music.
I have my husband’s Spotify playing in the background, and song after song keeps circling back to ancestors and daughters. Here I am, writing about my lineage and my relationship with my daughter, and the music keeps echoing the very themes moving through me.
I can’t make this stuff up.
It has me thinking about how much of our own healing unfolds through motherhood. How our children can illuminate the parts of ourselves that still need attention. How we can love our children fiercely and still find ourselves repeating patterns we swore we would never repeat.
What if we started looking at those moments with curiosity instead of shame?
What if we recognized that healing isn’t about becoming perfect mothers, but about becoming more conscious women?
As I sit here, one thought keeps coming through:
This is a mass healing.
Not because one person can heal everyone, but because every woman who begins to recognize her patterns has the opportunity to change what gets passed down.
Every time we choose a different response. Every time we honor our boundaries. Every time we stop abandoning ourselves to meet everyone else’s needs.
That is how we begin to reclaim our sovereignty.
I don’t know exactly what this calling will become. I still have questions, doubts, and plenty of my own healing to do.
But I know I’m being invited to pay attention.
And maybe that’s where it begins.
So, I want to ask you:
Have you ever noticed patterns repeating themselves through the women in your family?
Have you ever heard yourself say something to your child and suddenly realized you were repeating words you once heard yourself?
What if we started having more conversations about the things we inherit—and the things we are ready to change?
I’d love to hear your thoughts.
For now, I’m going to honor the message, respect my body’s need for rest, and see what unfolds.
Because apparently, three in the morning is when Spirit has decided we’re having this conversation.
And who am I to argue?
Well… clearly, I still am. Haha.
In Peace, Love and Service,
Rebecca
