The Hearth: Vol. 1 Letter 2: The sisterhood wound

In my last letter, I told you that I used to be terrified of being in community with women.

The funny thing is, I also desperately wanted sisterhood.

Those two things lived side by side in me for a really long time, and honestly, they still do.

Because my sisterhood wound is not healed.

It's healing.

I'm still in the messy middle with this one.

I've experienced incredible sisterhood over the last decade.

I've had deep, intimate friendships and online communities I genuinely can't imagine my life without.

I've learned how beautiful it can feel to be truly known by women over time, to trust, share, practice, receive, drop the mask, and really be seen as me.

And life continues to unfold.

I still have encounters with women that shake me to my core.

Just this summer, I found myself in the middle of a text exchange that really hit a tender place inside.

I was sitting at the car dealership when I read it, and my body went into literal panic.

The pit dropped into my stomach.

My hands started shaking.

My body started shaking.

I felt nauseous and hot.

I had to excuse myself, leave my daughter on the phone with my husband, and go into the bathroom.

I splashed cold water on my wrists, my face, my neck.

I sat on the toilet with both feet planted firmly on the ground, breathing and breathing and breathing and drawing up the energy of the earth until I could feel myself grounded again.

Not shaking.

That's how alive this wound can still be inside me.

After all the circles and all the shadow work and all the inner work and all the incredible women, all the spiritual work, all the years of learning to trust myself and be discerning with others, healing doesn't mean I never get triggered again.