good mother myth, IFS, lived experiences, Mothering, reflections, Self-care

To the bone-thin kin of starved women inside us šŸŗ

To my kin with tired bones. Women who have carried too much for too long, listen.

There are seasons when the she-wolf is hunted, exhausted, bones showing through her fur. She runs for years, giving milk when she has none, hunting with empty belly, guarding pups in a storm. Many women live decades like this.

And then, at last, she finds food, warmth, safety. Her fur grows thick again. Her ribs no longer show. She is strong. She is it. Capable. Present. Full. Contained. She lies by the fire and guards her den with a fierceness that will not let anyone in. She does NOT let anyone or anything in. Her cave is sealed.

I have sat with guilt in this space. And I surely witness that often in my therapy practice with women.

Do not be ashamed of this.
This is not coldness. This is instinct.

When you feel no urge to answer the phone, when you protect every scrap of time as though it were meat hard won, when you do not fling yourself into every sorrow around you, remember: the starved wolf must first eat and sleep before she can run with the pack again.

This is your season of guarding. Of saying no. Of letting your heart rest from bleeding.

And later, not now but later, you will rise. You will howl again with your sisters. You will give a drop of water, a slice of meat, without fear that the whole carcass will be taken from you.

But first: eat. Rest. Guard your den.
You are not heartless. You are healing.

With fierce protection,
Aleksandra 🐺

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