Reborn

 When we are born, if all goes according to greatest hopes, our first experience of eye contact is in love. She beholds us with blood, sweat and tears. And in that moment, our body does not yet know that we are separate. If the environment is tense, loud… we cry. If the environment is soothing, we are soothed.

We take our first steps. It is the beginning of our awareness that we are separate. I can run away from you! I can climb those stairs if I’m fast enough! Drunk on independence, we still look back every time we fall. Am I ok? Did that hurt? Is this safe? Is that person nice? We have begun to understand ourselves as something not quite separate, not quite connected.

Over the years of childhood we stretch this tether. We go to school. We go to camp. We go to practice. And eventually we begin to recognize: I and thou. You are over there. I am here.

We no longer find ourselves in the eyes of the parent. Instead, we seek to determine our own personhood. Ironically, we do this through trying on other peoples’. Does your coat fit me? How about your jeans? Do I like talking this way? Do I enjoy this activity? This music? We no longer find our personhood in the liquid pool of a loving mother. Instead, we find it through group identity. I am okay because my peers tell me I am.

We grow older, and we leave childhood. We leave behind “peer pressure”... except now we try on coats of a different kind: career, industry, production. I am an artist. I am a lawyer. I am an athlete. I am “finding myself”. We expand once again: beyond the first embrace,  beyond the circle of close peers. Now we seek to know who we are from an even wider circle of input. What is my village? What is my community? What are my values? What do I want for my life?

We partner. We pair off. Some of us then become parents ourselves. Lost in the pool of reflection for our own children, the cycle repeats in them.

But there is an interesting thing that we don’t talk about: the space beyond this perfect circle. Because you see, we still see ourselves in reflection. We may have expanded the mirror- but it is a mirror yet. It is fragile. How do I know? Because when the mirrors crack, it sends us into a great cataclysmic collapse.

Laid off.
Divorced.
Fired.
Disgraced.

Left.

Failed.

Evicted.

Rejected.

We suddenly don’t know who we are. We are lost. A child without a mirror cannot find themselves. They have no sense of self: no I, no thou. 

There is a collective collapse right now. We have lost our many mirrors. The co-workers. The yoga friends. The community. The grocery clerk. In a vacuum we cannot hear our own voice.

The losses mount. The grief turns to anger turns to despair. We lament the loss of things. Then we ultimately lament the loss of self. The desolation feels crushing.

If this is you right now, listen to me. Dear sweet child. You were born of blood and sweat. The moment of your birth is at hand once again.

This time it is not birth through another. This time it is not a self understood in a reflection pool.

Oh no, this is much more. This defies words. But let me try:

Have you ever seen fire in your own eyes? Have you ever known your own tenderness, so sweet you could only cry with relief? Have you ever felt heat melt your bones from the inside? Leaving behind molten lava? Have you ever thought you would die? Split in two and never live again? Have you ever felt sure that you could not go on. Not. one. More. moment? But then you did?

But then you did?

But then. You. fucking. DID. 

Have you ever felt sure you possess alchemy inside of you? Magic in place of bones? Fire proof?

Have you ever felt the space inside you that is unbreakable?

That is what you are birthing now.

Don’t you dare give up, dear one. You must be your own midwife here. You must be unafraid. Or you know what? Screw that. Be afraid. Scream. Be angry. If you must thrash, then do it. But oh you must keep going. Because this is your undoing. 

Every role you’ve ever called yourself. Guess what? It was bullshit. You are more. So much more. You are ineffable. You are indescribable. You defy coats. You defy mirrors. You are only truly your own in this life. That is it.

And once you know that. You are reborn. 

Trauma and Activism

Working with birth and mental health professionals across the globe has made me very aware: Most birth professionals have trauma related to birth.  Most mental health professionals have trauma.

In fact, many enter the profession precisely because the trauma they experienced (or the injustice) was so unacceptable, they had to do something about it. I love that. I believe there is nothing more central to the purpose of life than to leave behind better than you got. 

This is why birth and mental health professionals are my people.

Anyone who takes trauma and turns it into loving action has my attention. 

And yet, there is something not being talked about here and frankly, it's starting to worry me:

How To Care For Someone Who Has Trauma

Roughly 8% of the general population suffers from PTSD. Chances are high that someone you love will experience difficult symptoms after a traumatic event. It can feel overwhelming and confusing. What can you do?

When Your Traumatic Birth Is Fresh At The Holidays

I see you mama.

Your loved ones want to hear all about it. They expect smiles. They expect you to be so overjoyed.

They don't see the pain you're in. Maybe they don't even want to see it.

Care Providers Are Hurting

Can We Talk For A Minute?

To my readers who are care providers: the ones who wear work clothes marked by other peoples’ bodies. To those who consume copious amounts of caffeine so you can work while others sleep. To those who have held life and death in your hands and know the fragile knife point of the sacred and the tragic. To the ones who spent long years and the cost of a home for the privilege of working in such liminal space with far too little recognition of your sacrifice.

We need to talk.

What Is Birth Trauma?

Are you experiencing Birth Trauma?

Birth Trauma symptoms and resources:

If you found your way here because you might be suffering from Birth Trauma, here's what I want you to know first.

-You can love your baby and be grateful for your baby's health and still have birth trauma. People who suggest "just be thankful for a healthy baby" don't get it. They may mean well but they are shaming you. Do not listen to them. What you feel matters.

Nope. Try again.

"You're doing it," my particularly bossy friend told me in college.*

I didn't listen to her. Not the first time. Not the second time. Not even the third time.
"Just come to the interest meeting!"... she finally wore me down.

And with this, I embarked on one of my most formative experiences in life:

Hack Your Brain, Reach Your Goals

It's no secret that the human brain is pretty terrible at long-term goals. Anyone who has started a diet knows exactly what I'm talking about. It sounds like a good idea on Monday, by Friday it's forgotten.

I'm going to give you some shortcuts to making your goals stick, keeping your brain motivated, and reaching your goals.

Why Holidays Can Suck

Ladies, We Are Being Heard

Those of you who know me... for about 5 minutes... know that I have this passion (obsession?) with healing trauma. And a specific subset of this is my passion for treating birth trauma. I will talk about it to anyone who will listen (sorry) and basically think it's one of the foremost unidentified mental health issues of young women. That's all. I'm pretty much on a mission to tell the world about it.

Fear Sells. Don't Buy.

For our ancestors bad news was a matter of survival.

Knowing which berries were poison, which cloud pattern indicated a storm, or which bird song meant danger: this kept them alive. On the other hand it wasn't helpful to remember which trees were prettiest in the fall. The most beautiful sunset they ever saw? Well that wasn't going to keep them alive either. Over time nature rewarded the worry-warts and we've been living that legacy ever since.

So it's not your fault, you see.
You're biologically programmed to fear.

Shame Is Sh*t

I don't believe in shame.

Oh I hear you now- but "what about when I do something really terrible Krysta? I should feel badly for it."

Yes. Feeling conviction or remorse is a healthy sign of an intact conscience; but that's not shame.

Like hopelessness, shame seeks to have the last word. It's a period at the end of the sentence which intends to gobble up anything that comes after. Shame is sticky and heavy and weighs you down.

When Someone You Love Has Awful Politics

As a therapist
I’ve seen eyes roll.
Arms crossed.
Yelling.
Personal attacks.
Paint-melting rage.
I’ve even seen a checkbook thrown across the room.

And none of this compares to what I have seen this election season.

Tarnished

This morning I found it. A necklace I had lost almost three years ago. The crazy thing is, it was right under my nose the whole time.

I had been looking for a different necklace on my jewelry holder. This lead me to search a little deeper than I normally would and that was how it caught my eye: a tiny delicate diamond on a silver chain. It was snarled in a much larger clump and I almost missed it.

It used to be bright silver, and that’s how I knew it.

Fully Starving

Stop. Breathe.

It all feels so real. The carefully procured creation in front of me. So real and yet so far. It reveals everything but it reveals nothing.

I know about you, but I don’t really know you.

How To Set Your Compass

Fear is a dirty liar.

There, I said it. Sometimes I just need to get to the point.

The part of you that doesn't walk down a dark alley at midnight? The one that doesn't jump off tall buildings or drive the wrong way in traffic? That isn't fear. That's wisdom. Those things aren't smart.

I'm talking about fear. You know the one. It stops you in your tracks and blocks you from moving through your own dark spaces. You either run or freeze. It goes by other names. Some call it anxiety.

A Letter From The World To You

By Greg Rakozy

(The ones who need to write this, cannot. Please consider this their letter)


Dear Precious One And Only You,
Inside you. Can you feel it? Your heart beating. Your chest rising and falling. Your body fidgeting. 
You are alive.

What Is Brainspotting Like?

If you've ever wondered what Brainspotting is like as a client, or why you want to do it, here's a handy quick video to tell you all you ever wanted to know.

Our Best Kept Secret

by Toby

"Oh, funny, my friend just texted me because she's getting out of her therapy appointment too!"
Comments like this are typical for my teen clients. They openly discuss their mental health and therapy appointments. They exchange ideas and experiences during lunch. They even encourage one another to seek professional help when they are cutting themselves, depressed, anxious or suicidal.


Yes, times are changing and I am proud of how this young generation respects their mental health.

But there is a strange divide. For my clients who are only ten to fifteen years older, I am far more likely to hear
"This is so embarrassing"

How To: Protect Your Kids From The Bad Guys

I usually don't like to write about this kind of thing. But I can't stop thinking about it.


We spend so much time trying to keep our kids safe. We research car seats and we shop organic and we don't let them play in the front yard without supervision. And our desire to keep our kids safe is so noble. It is so right.

But we are also getting it really, really wrong.