From Mighty Oak to Little Acorn: My Journey to Loving the Imperfect Me (Still in Progress!)

Alright, fabulous humans, gather round! Your resident, slightly wiser than yesterday, 50-plus woman is here to dish the dirt on a topic near and dear to my heart: self-love.

Now, before you picture me meditating on a mountaintop, surrounded by incense, worshipping Buddha, ear pods in listening to my newly created “Yoga and Meditation” playlist on Spotify (although this is currently my jam. That and the “Top 100 from the 80s”), let me paint a more accurate picture. My self-love journey has involved less chanting and more peering into the mysterious, often dusty, corners of my soul.

From People Pleasing to Possessing Poise

For decades, my internal compass pointed firmly in the direction of "What can I do to make them happy?" If someone asked me to jump, my only question was, "How high, and should I bring snacks for everyone watching?" It was exhausting. And frankly, a little bit ridiculous. I was so busy trying to fit into everyone else's mold, I forgot what my own shape even was.

Hitting the big 5-0 (plus a few glorious years) has been surprisingly liberating. It’s like I received a permission slip written in bold, glittery letters, that read, "You are hereby authorized to stop people-pleasing. Seriously. It's time."

The first few attempts at setting boundaries felt like trying to untangle a knot with your elbows. Awkward. But with each shaky "no," with each "that doesn't work for me," a tiny spark ignited. That spark? My inner strength. I figured out how to say "no" without immediately breaking into hives. And let me tell you, for a recovering people-pleaser like myself, that’s a spiritual practice in itself!

My Body: A Masterpiece in Progress (and Definitely Not Magazine Cover Worthy)

Let's talk about bodies, shall we? Because for years, mine was a constant source of internal debate. Too soft here, not firm enough there, definitely not resembling the photoshopped women on the cover of Vanity Fair. I spent a good chunk of my life chasing a "perfect" body that, let's be real, probably doesn't even exist. But you know what? At 50-plus, I've had an epiphany. My body has carried me through five decades of life – through happy times, heartbreaks, questionable fashion choices, and an impressive number of ice cream cones. It's seen some things. It's earned its lines and wrinkles, and all of it’s delightfully squishy bits. And guess what? I'm comfortable in my own skin. (And I’m allergic to burpees, so there’s that.) Not in a "I'm going to strut naked through the streets" kind of way (though power to you if that's your thing!), but in a "this is my body, it’s strong enough to get me where I need to go, and it deserves kindness and appreciation" kind of way. It's never going to be "magazine worthy" by conventional standards, and honestly? Who cares! It's life-worthy, and that's better.

The Radical Act of Emoting (Yes, I Cry)

Here’s another big revelation for this former "everything is fine, just fine" enthusiast: it's okay to emote. For so long, I felt like showing any emotion beyond polite cheerfulness was a sign of weakness. Crying? Absolutely not. Anger? Unthinkable!

But here's the truth: everything is not always okay, and that is absolutely okay. Pretending otherwise is counterproductive. Allowing myself to feel the full spectrum of emotions – the joy, the frustration, the occasional wave of unexpected sadness – hasn't made me weaker. It's made me more resilient. I've learned that true inner strength isn't about not feeling things, but about feeling them, acknowledging them, and then deciding how to move forward. It's about recognizing that sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do is just admit, "Yup, this sucks," and then order takeout. My view has changed from needing to be “strong like an oak tree”; an unshakable, towering masterpiece, to being a glorious, evolving acorn. And honestly? It's much more obtainable.  

So now, if I'm feeling overwhelmed, I might just have a good, hearty cry – a tiny acorn of emotion finding its release. If I'm frustrated, I might stomp my foot (mostly metaphorically, of course), like a young sapling testing its ground. And if I'm happy, I'll probably do a little happy dance, basking in the sun like new leaves blossoming.

Because that's what true inner strength looks like: the courage to be as authentic, messy, and as wonderfully real as the journey of a tiny acorn.

Always a Work in Progress (and That's the Best Part!)

Now, if all this sounds like I've got it all figured out and I'm floating through life on a cloud of self-actualized bliss, let me be clear: this is a glorious, messy, ongoing work in progress. Some days, I still catch myself almost saying "yes" to something I really don't want to do. Sometimes, I look in the mirror and my inner critic tries to chime in (and I have to firmly tell her to go sit in the corner).

The beauty of self-love isn't about reaching some perfect endpoint where you're eternally Zen and flawless. It's about the journey itself – the continuous process of learning, growing, stumbling, and getting back up with a little more grace and a lot more self-compassion.

So, if you're out there, navigating your own path to self-love, remember this: you've got this. You're stronger than you know. And if you need to say "no" to something to protect your peace, do it. If you look in the mirror and your inner-critic is particularly loud, be kind to yourself and embrace your squishy bits. And if you want to cry, then cry. Your glorious, authentic self will thank you.

Why This Mid-Life Mom Took the Yoga Teacher Training Plunge

Confession time: I used to think a "downward dog" was just how my dog looked when he was begging for treats. But here I am, a little older, a little wiser, and definitely a lot more bendy, having just wrapped up my 200-hour yoga teacher training. What possessed me, you ask? Well, grab a kombucha, because it's a tale of self-discovery, forgiveness, and a whole lot of "aha!" moments.

Deepening My Own Wobbly Warrior

Let's be real, my initial motivation was purely selfish. My personal yoga practice was inconsistent, a bit like trying to keep a plant healthy by watering it only sporadically – it never really got the consistent care it needed to truly flourish, but I knew there were fertile seeds waiting to sprout, even if my own garden was currently neglected. I wanted to further my own practice, beyond just touching my toes (which, let's be honest, is still an ongoing saga). This training cracked open the philosophy, the anatomy, the energetics – basically, the entire universe of yoga. And huge props to Colynn from Frik-Shuhn Yoga & Coaching, my amazing teacher. She didn't just teach poses; she taught presence. She has this magical way of explaining complex concepts with such clarity, making even my most wobbly warrior feel like a masterpiece. And to Rachelle. You are a powerhouse – so bendy and little, yet full of such amazing fire and energy. I appreciated your guidance and vibrant spirit.

My practice has gone from an inconsistent routine to a genuine adventure, and I'm finally understanding why my hips feel the way they do after a particularly enthusiastic pigeon pose.

Hugging My Inner Critic (and Kicking Out the Others)

Life’s a bumpy road, right? And I, for one, have carried a suitcase full of "should haves" and "could haves" for far too long. A big part of this journey was about learning to forgive myself. Turns out, all that internal nagging was just draining my battery! Through the introspection woven into yoga philosophy, I found a safe space to acknowledge past fumbles without judgment. My training had an environment where self-acceptance wasn't just a buzzword, but a lived experience. It's like I finally gave myself a giant, permission-to-breathe hug.

And speaking of baggage, I also realized I was lugging around some heavy grievances against others. Holding onto resentment is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to get sick. So, I also needed to forgive others. Yoga's emphasis on interconnectedness and ahimsa (non-harming) provided the perfect toolkit. Through deep breaths and a whole lot of heart-opening poses, I've been able to consciously release those emotional anchors. It's not about condoning actions, but about freeing myself from their grip.

Authenticity: My New Favorite Outfit

As I navigate this glorious "second half" of life, there's a burning desire to live authentically. Honestly, I'm tired of trying to fit into shoes that are 2 sizes too small! This training has been like a grand closet clean-out, shedding all the expectations and norms that weren't truly mine. It’s about aligning my actions with my defining purpose, speaking my truth (even when my voice quivers a little), and embracing every quirky, wonderful bit of who I am. I found my own unique rhythm, on and off the mat. How incredibly liberating. It’s like finally finding the perfect outfit that makes you feel utterly, wonderfully you.

Becoming a Cozy Cocoon for Others

Initially, this was all about me. But as I delved deeper into my own healing, a beautiful ripple effect began. I felt a profound pull to be able to hold space for others. It's about creating a safe, judgment-free zone where people can just be. Whether it's guiding a yoga class, or simply being a more present and empathetic friend, I want to offer that same soft landing I found. This training has given me the confidence and the tools to start weaving that kind of comfort into the world.

My Tribe

The friendships I forged during yoga teacher training were, to put it mildly, a unique blend of spiritual connection and absolute chaos. We bonded over our shared struggles to execute poses, cold plunges at 7am, and deep conversations that never took place during quiet times (right girls. 😉). I'm pretty sure my "lifelong friends" are the only people who truly understand the existential crisis that comes with realizing you've been doing "downward dog" wrong for a decade. We shared tears over our frustrations and "what the f@?! was that?" moments during some of the more...questionable practices. We arrived as strangers, some flexible as pretzels and others, like me, possessing the flexibility of a rusty gate, but we left as a tribe, forever linked by our shared journey into the world of chakras, mantras, and the occasional, deeply ungraceful fall.

And for My Rory,

My Little Lion

Perhaps the most precious motivation of all bloomed from my heart: the desire to share these incredible teachings with my autistic son, Rory. He's my little lion, navigating a world that often feels overwhelming. I truly believe the calming power of yoga – the focus on breath, the gentle movements, the body awareness – could be a superhero tool for him. My biggest hope is that by sharing this knowledge, I can offer him a path to greater ease, a way to find his own inner calm amidst the noise, and to feel more connected to his amazing self. Imagining yoga bringing a bit more peace and understanding into his life fuels me more than any perfectly executed handstand ever could.

So, my 200-hour yoga teacher training has been a wild, wonderful ride far beyond just learning how to cue a pose. It’s been a deep dive into self-love, universal love, and preparing to show up authentically for the rest of my days. And for the beautiful guidance and boundless spirit of Colynn and her counter part Rachelle, I am forever grateful.

If you've ever felt that little whisper to explore yoga deeper, listen to it – you never know what profound transformations await!

Check out Colynn's offerings. She is fabulous! https://frikshuhn.com/

Autism is Awesome

Rory has taught me so much. Patience, patience, patience. Routine, routine, routine. Did you know that the world is a much louder and brighter place than you realize? And that dragons and dinosaurs are real? And that there is such a thing as “too” honest? He has shown me the importance of embracing his strengths and celebrating ALL his wins. But most importantly he demonstrates everyday that being different is awesome!

Today, April 2, is Autism awareness day, a day dedicated to spread awareness and acceptance of individuals with autism. Autism spectrum disorder (ASD) is a developmental disability caused by differences in the brain. It is a spectrum disorder. The symptoms and characteristics can present themselves in a wide variety of combinations, from mild to severe. Level 1 requires some support. Level 2 requires substantial support. Level 3 requires very substantial support. It took us years and a lot of persistence to receive the level 2 diagnosis for our son Rory. This diagnosis was needed to receive the support that served him best, but each autistic individual is different, and so are their strengths and difficulties. Therefore, there is no way of predicting or accounting for the unique details of Rory’s personality or behaviours.

Rory sees, hears, and feels the world differently. He is a sponge for knowledge, wants to be a scientist or a dragon master when he grows up, and although it would seem that he would rather keep to himself, he wants friends and social interaction just as much as any other kid his age. Having a little insight into Rory’s world has taught me so much. Perhaps by sharing a few of these insights with you, you too will look at things a little differently.

Patience, patience, patience

It takes Rory time to process what is said. Slow down. Be clear. Give him time to react. One thing at a time. You may think he is not listening as he wiggles in chair, or paces back and forth, but believe me, he is taking it all in. His ability to retain knowledge is quite remarkable. Give him a chance, you’ll be amazed at what he can do and what he has to say.

Routine, routine, routine

Routine makes Rory feel safe. It helps him cope and gets him through the day. If something changes, and he is not prepared for it, it causes him a lot of anxiety. From having his carrots cut a certain way, to watching the same you tube video over and over, to morning and bedtime routines, he needs to know what comes next so he plan and prepare for it. This is not to say that he doesn’t like to experience new things, he does, he just needs to be in the know so he can adapt.

Louder, brighter, bigger

Imagine for a moment that you were wearing 3-D glasses and hearing in Dolby surround sound with the inability to turn down the volume. Everything would be just too loud, too bright, and too much to process all at once. This is what Rory experiences each and every day. We are conditioned to live with a constant hum of noise around us. We are able to tune out what we don’t want to hear. Rory is unable to filter out the sound of his brother’s rap music coming from the basement, the conversation I am having on the phone, the neighbours lawn mower, the dog barking down the street, the flag flapping in the wind, the hum of the air conditioner, the bright sun beating through the window, the smell of bacon frying in the kitchen. Each individual sound, sight and smell is heightened. It is overwhelming. He will often retreat to our bedroom or hide under a blanket with his iPad in attempt to shut out the world around him. Last night, he was experiencing an overload. The dog was barking, the tv was on, supper was cooking. He was visibly upset. I asked him what it felt like. He explained, “it’s like there is a big balloon in my head. It keeps getting bigger and bigger until it takes over my brain. And then, boom, it pops. It’s going to be messy.”

Imagination

Rory is going to be the next J. K. Rowling. It is like he is living a live-action movie in his head at all times. Sometimes this movie involves dragons, dinosaurs, or made up creatures. Sometimes he places himself in a replay of the latest youtube video he just watched. He calls this his “thinking time.” He will pace back and forth, make exaggerated movements with his body, and chatters away. I wish I could catch his stories in their entirety, as I’m sure they would make Oprah’s list. To him, his thoughts and imagination are his reality. Dragons are real. Dinosaurs are going to live again. The stories he creates in his mind are true. His truth. This innocence is something I truly hope he holds onto.

Honest, to a fault

I remember a time when Rory was 4. He approached a man with white hair and a beard and inspected him closely. When I say closely, I mean 2 inches from from his face. He touched his hair and announced, “you have white hair, you must be old. Wait a minute, are you related to Santa?” Mortified, I apologized profusely. Thankfully the man realized that the comment was coming from a 4 year old who lacked social filters and was not offended. He is now 9, and is still, and always will be, brutally honest, sometimes to a fault. It’s not “cute” anymore, and is sometimes a cause for embarrassment. He is often pegged as rude or disrespectful, but his transparency is something I think is awesome!

Today, and everyday, is a day to celebrate his differences. If we all take time to respect and understand people with autism, our world will become more enriching and inclusive of everyone.

Thank you for reading The Weekly Seed.

Laura