This isn’t a crisis.
It’s a threshold.
That low hum of anxiety & the emptiness that makes you wonder, “Is this it?”
The way you sob uncontrollably while watching “Call the Midwife”, even though you chose not to have children.
The flashes of rage when people stumble past your rickety boundaries & scorch the scrap of peace you’ve cobbled together with scotch tape covered in cat hair.
This isn’t something to fix.
It’s something to face.
If you recognize yourself here, this is where we begin.
Midlife handed you a pair of Lululemons & what you actually need is a shovel
You’ve already done So. Much. Work. to get where you are right now.
The advanced degrees. That fifth certification program. Your self-help books which are so inundated with sticky tabs they look like they have teeth.
You’ve listened to the podcasts on mindfulness. Maybe you even set them to 2x speed like I do. And…smack dab in the middle of them there’s an advertisement for Botox. You’ve unloaded your history in therapy. And those red lipstick affirmations you wrote on the mirror? They never quite rubbed off, literally and figuratively.
None of it was wasted.
And none of it was enough.
Despite the shifts and growth, still…here you are.
And instead of a shovel, you’ve been working with a toothpick.
Here is what stayed buried:
Grab your peacoat & galoshes and take a journey with me…
Everyone has their story of when their not-enoughness began. Not smart enough…Not pretty enough…Not creative enough…
Not enough. Period.
In part, mine started when I came home from school in the 4th grade waving my report card in my stepfather’s face so hard that the miniature turtles on the white sleeve of my turtleneck were all a blur. All A’s and one B.
I was so proud.
He was not so proud. And mornings before school, he’d pull out our vinyl soundtrack from The Wizard of Oz and play “If I Only Had a Brain” every morning before I went to school.
Thirty years later, the grooves on that record were as deep as the Grand Canyon. Bachelor’s degree at 40 years old with a Valedictorian nomination. Masters degree at 47. Coach training after coach training and certification after certification.
And pretty enough? The sheer number of times per day that I would re-apply my foundation during lunch in high school—a secret behavior which continued well into my forties. There was no amount of Cover Girl that could ever be enough. And ladies, it was the eighties. I looked like a damned Oompa Loompa. And let me tell you, the stains never came out of those shirt collars. Not a good look.
And artistic enough? One piece of careless feedback from an MFA mentor canceled out all other praise of my writing and I went publicly silent for nine years. Instead, I threw myself into helping others to write their books; build their dreams; succeed in their businesses. It was a protective way to stay writing adjacent without the exposure and the criticism.
Then the losses came. My health after being diagnosed with hashimotos and rheumatoid arthritis. My father. My brother after he fell into his own campfire. Aunts. Uncles. Pets. Friends.
And somewhere in the middle of all of that grief, the things I’d given so much credence to had lost their meaning. My not-enoughness felt ridiculous against the backdrop of actual deaths and illness. No foundation (even Mac) was going to cover this up. No Botox. No Lululemons.
So I picked up the shovel.
I owned the disowned parts of myself—the ones I’d been performing around for decades. The conditioning. The inherited stories. The one I’d written myself. I did the heavy, unglamorous work of stopping trying to fix myself according to what everyone else thought I should be.
I’m not 1,000 miles ahead of you.
I’m just far enough ahead to hold the lantern.
And what was I waiting for?
Permission slips?
As Jungian analyst James Hollis writes, midlife is a time to “go back and pick up the bits and pieces that you left behind—gifts, talents, capacities, interests, and passions.”
So. How do we pick up the bits?
We begin by looking at what you buried.
We’re not digging around in the muck to fix you. You’re not broken. But…we do have to understand what went underground with the worms and why.
Your soul is utterly brilliant. It created a character who knew to adapt and fit in for survival. That character dimmed your light so you wouldn’t be rejected. It said “of course” instead of saying “no” so you could belong. It managed everyone else’s experience so you would be loved.
It made sense.
100%.
We unearth the patterns, both the ones you inherited and the ones you created for yourself, and we follow them all the way back to where they began.
That’s when you start to see the story you’ve been living. The one that keeps everyone in your life (including you) right exactly where you are. Comfortable? Perhaps. Miserable? Likely.
And once you see it, you can change it.
Our work together unfolds in six-month containers which include bi-weekly sessions, a whole lotta depth, and enough time to bring those patterns to the surface, examine them, and allow them to shift. Some clients choose to continue in another six-month container, and others don’t. But at the end of that first six-months, you’ll have a personal myth—a piece of writing that brings to light the story you’ve been living unconsciously, the patterns that have been dictating that story, and a new version of the story that is asking to be written. This isn’t a memoir for the world (though I won’t say that hasn’t happened.) Rather, it will be the clearest thing you’ve ever put down on paper, a place where you see all the seemingly disparate threads of your life and how they weave into the life that wants to be lived through you.
I am in awe of the person I have become since working with Melanie. I just completed my last session and although deeply saddened as our time together has come to an end, I am walking into my new life with direction and a confidence I sorely lacked five months ago… In addition to fulfilling her commitment to me, through my writing, I was able to heal so many years of emotional suffering. Melanie’s authenticity, nurturing love and well-honed intuition provided her with a deep soul knowing of exactly what I needed and when I needed it. She simply took my lead and my hand and guided me with amazing gentleness to the most unexpected and healing results. I will be forever grateful to her and whatever entity brought us together.
Here’s what I imagine for you
You’re ninety-four years old, sitting in front of your fireplace as the snow swirls outside. A young woman who honors you and your wisdom shows up to visit.
Your own peacoat is hanging on a hook by the door covered in splats of rain and mud. Your galoshes sit below the coat, holes in both shoes.
Your body too may be all but worn out. Your hands misshapen from a life of serving what showed up with both bravery and with love. Your spirit is tenacious. The light in your eyes is fierce and sharp.
You’re sharing stories of adventures. Of saying “yes”…to yourself. Of how you let go of all the cares around “what will everyone think” and followed only the voice of your own soul.
And if you passed tomorrow, you would feel complete. You couldn’t possibly wring out one more ounce of lived life.
Nothing left unsaid.
Nothing left unwritten.
Nothing left undone.
I’ve experienced a deep sense of being witnessed in our time together as I work through healing aspects of my ‘story’ and of having a compassionate, intuitive, wise, inquisitive, and interested companion as I travel this journey. It is so deeply healing.
This Work Is For You If…
This Work Is NOT For You If:
Begin with a Threshold Conversation
Nothing to be frightened of. It’s simply a 30-minute space to talk, to share, to see what feels right (all the way down to your toes.)
You’re not signing up to become someone new. You’re simply drained at the prospect of continuing to drown out those whispers.
You’ve been performing all your life and you have all those well-earned, shiny accolades. You can set them down for just a moment. Clarity isn’t required here. Connection is.
What are you waiting for?
Permission slips?
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