We live in an adult-centered, anti-child world where mistreatment of children is considered, not just appropriate, but preferred.

At best, kids are considered loud, messy and exhausting.

At worst, they are considered inherently “bad” and in need of training, which is usually doled out in the form of mental, emotional or physical abuse.

It’s true that children are the only group that is still boldly and legally discriminated against. They are the only people who are legally allowed to be hit, stolen from or held against their will. There is even a movement to ban the “brats” from public places based on nothing but their age.

Think about any of these sentiments said about a particular race and you’ll see my point. It is a very anti-child society we live within.

Of course, all of this instills in children a belief that they are less than, broken or bad. And unless they heal that belief, because children are the only oppressed group who will outgrow their oppression, it’s a belief they will continue to carry into their unoppressed adult life and inform every choice they make, including the treatment of the next generation.

So, we are essentially creating an entire culture of broken, hurting human beings for generations to come.

And I keep hearing so many parents complain about this and the so-called “brat bans”.

We are all appalled and offended when someone speaks condescendingly, assumes a child’s guilt or otherwise passes judgment on them based on their size.

But how many are doing anything about it?

Guess what?

If you want the anti-child treatment to change you’ve got to come out of your hiding places and start talking about.

Not just on Facebook.

Not just on your blog.

You need to start speaking up. At family reunions. At the grocery store. With your best friend. With strangers at the park.

You need to grow some cahones and start creating real awareness by speaking your Truth.

You need to live with Integrity.

Last week I got the opportunity to ask an older gentleman to drop some anti-semetic remarks he was making in front of us.

This was a strong, opinionated man who never backs down. He’s the kind of man that constantly makes racist, classist or sexist remarks and is used to winning arguments. The kind of man no one even bothers arguing with anymore.

I knew all of this going in. I’ve seen how people will sit uncomfortably and listen as he makes these remarks and not say a word, because they don’t feel it’ll help. They all looked pained as they shrug their shoulders and ask “What can I do?”

But I live by my own integrity.

And according to my integrity, all people should be treated with honor and respect and compassion. Even this man who was making anti-semetic remarks.

So with respect for him, I clearly stated that I was uncomfortable with his remarks, explained why and stated that I would appreciate them not happening in front of us.

Because I spoke with respect, not anger or fear, he did what no one had ever seen him do before.

He apologized and said he hadn’t looked at it that way.

We then went on to have a nice conversation for several more hours.

The One Rule To Speaking Your Truth

It doesn’t work when you speak from a place of anger or fear.

It doesn’t work when you fight or demand or criticize.

People shut down when they hear your anger, or feel attacked.

But people hear Truth.

Truth is not angry. It’s not fear-based. It’s not judgmental.

It’s just Truth.

And real Truth comes from a place of love. It comes with compassion and acceptance and gentleness. It doesn’t back down or hide.

And it speaks volumes louder than anger.

If we want to change these anti-child views…if we want to promote respect and love, compassion and kindness…we get to speak out while we set an example of what respect, love, compassion and kindness look like.

We get to live our Integrity out loud.

(And really, if you’re speaking with anger, are you really living your integrity?)

Change doesn’t happen by complaining about it.

Keep this in mind: the reason these anti-child (or racist or sexist or any-ist) sentiments make you uncomfortable is because you’re not living according to your own beliefs, your own integrity, when you don’t speak your Truth.

You’re sacrificing your beliefs to “keep the peace” (what peace?). And that’s uncomfortable!

To live with integrity means to take your authenticity and your Truth out of its box and into the world.

What do you know as Truth? What is holding you back from speaking your Truth with compassion and respect for everyone involved?

Because if you see the abuse and hate occurring towards children – or anyone else – and you do nothing about it…or you increase it with abuse and hatred of your own, whose really to blame here?

Now that I have your attention let me please make one thing clear…

You chose to have children.

You chose to be a caregiver, to take on the responsibility of providing for your child’s physical, emotional and mental well-being.

Your kids don’t owe you thanks for your own decisions.

They just don’t. They are here to live their lives, growing and learning in a way that makes sense to them.

They aren’t here to meet your needs.

That’s your job.

It’s your job to meet your emotional needs. It’s your job to fill yourself with love. It’s your job to care for your own well-being, give yourself the things you love or want and make sure you are happy.

So, are you?

Are you loving yourself? Are you making your well-being a priority? Are you giving yourself everything you need to be the parent, the partner, the person you want to be?

No one else is responsible for it. Just you.

And here’s the Truth…

When you can honestly answer “Yes” you will start to notice that others treat you with the same care and consideration you treat yourself.

And when you are honest enough to know the answer is “No” you will notice that others treat you with the same care and consideration you treat yourself.

A lot has happened since I experienced my perspective shift toward receiving.

I’ve experienced such an incredible insurge of insight and experience in the matters of support, creating tribes and the intertwining acts of creating our worlds.

There is no separating these exchanges from Who We Are. We give. We receive. We shine.

Sometimes the exchange feels big – an A-ha moment that rocks your world, the purchase of something that brings beauty into your life, a new commitment or change.

Sometimes it feels pretty small – a tip left for the waiter, a smile to a stranger, a phone call from a friend.

But more and more I’m recognizing one of the greatest gifts to give or receive IS the most simple: Our presence.

Holding Space + Vision With Our Presence

My Visionary Mom team is wrapping up this month and I can undoubtedly say the women I’ve come to love on this team will be a part of my life for some time to come. We’ve laughed and cried, voiced our anger and fears and victories. We’ve shared advice, resources, tools and ideas with each other to help accomplish our dreams.

But it’s come to all of us in the past few days that perhaps the greatest gift we’ve given to each other is not so tangible.

We’ve created and held sacred a wide open space for one another to Be, to dream, to discover and to create.

But even more incredible is what is held within that space:

A vision of “Who You Are”.

This is such a gentle, careful thing. Without expectations or attachments, we just hold in our hearts an image of the other person  – an image of strength, of beauty, of authenticity, of the incredible women we are.

In my darkest hours or deepest and messiest challenges, it was this space and this vision that moved me through.

When I felt I lost my hold on my own light, my own vision, my own strength, I was reminded that they were holding it for me. It never went travels from me, because those around me never let it go.

The Opposite is Also True

The space and image we hold for someone can be freeing and empowering for them….or it can be incredibly limiting.

We can hold an image of someone that is negative: an image of brokenness, of unhappiness, of pain, of being wrong.

Or we can hold an image based on our own expectations, based on what we want or think is best but that does not resonate with the other person.

And that image can shape their beliefs of Who They Are, what they are capable of doing and where they are going.

It can feel just as slight as an affirming image, so much so that we don’t realize we’re doing it.

• She’s never happy.
• Oh, he’s just like that. That’s just the way he is.
• They are always wrapped up in drama.

It doesn’t matter if we feel it’s true. It’s still constricting.

We do this with more than just labels, though; we do it with our expectations, with our limiting beliefs of what is possible and with our fears.

• I don’t think he’ll follow through.
• Here we go again….
• You’re not being practical.
• But you could be hurt!

In the same way an affirming or positive image never travels far from me, a negative image never travels far either.

Your ideas of Who They Are are always there to be accessed, remembered and absorbed by them.

And the closer you are to that person – a parent or child, a lover, a close friend – or the more vulnerable a place they are in, the more your image of them will have an impact.

What Are You Holding?

In the past few weeks, I’ve have been more consciously holding space and vision for those I know and love or with whom I come in contact.

With my son, whom I tend to worry about. With my husband, whom I tend to help too much. With my mom, my friends, my clients.

Sometimes the shift is incredible: Zeb has felt the freedom I’ve created by holding that space and vision for him and he’s flourishing in it. (Yes. It was only my fear that was holding him back before.)

Sometimes the shift is in my internal processing: I feel freedom, compassion and wisdom in my own course of action when I’m approaching life without these limitations.

But even if the only thing to shift is our own perspectives, we’re still on the right track. Because our perspectives shift everything.

I’m Holding This For You.

My intention with this blog is to promote my message of Being Organic.

I talk a lot about what that looks like in my own life, but I have no idea of what that will look like in your life.

Some of my Truth – organic learning, organic living, minimalism, authenticity, unconditional compassion, autonomy – will resonate with you. Some of it won’t. And that’s okay.

I don’t need to know Who You Are in order to hold a space and vision for you.

I just need to know one simple truth:

You are wise and wonderful. And you shine best when you remember that.

I’m holding space here for you, a vision of that in you. You are welcome to access that space and that vision anytime you need to remember.

What are you holding for others?

There’s an epidemic that has infiltrated our culture. It creeps in to families and relationships and make us all sick. Sick of each other, really.

It’s the If/Then Syndrome, sometimes referred to as the When/Then Syndrome. And it gets us all at some point. It’s that tit for tat behavior that we all loathe, and yet it’s just as much a part of us as we feel it is of anyone else. Some examples of its symptoms:

• If she’s going to be rude to her kids, then I’m going to tell her off.
• If he’s gonna yell at me, then I’m gonna yell back.
• When you act nice to me, then I’ll act kind in return.
• When you help me with the chores, then I’ll pay you.
• But if you don’t help me, then I’ll be moody and passive-aggressive.
• When he apologizes, then I’ll stop giving him the cold shoulder.
• If she cheats on me, then I’ll cheat on her.

Truly, it’s all equal and it’s all pretty immature thinking. But the most mature among us fall victim to it. We apply it to our parenting, our partners, and our friendships.

It’s not entirely our fault. It’s the culture we live in, one based on rewards and punishments. We feel that every action must be met with an equal (or greater) reaction. We give kids grades based on their performance, allowance based on their contributions, attention based on their behavior. We give our spouses snide comments or biting retorts. We give others parents pointed looks, or offer hurtful, harsh remarks. And we say (and truly feel) that things won’t change unless we do these things.

We’re a culture of human reactors.

I’ve just realized I do it all the time. If Justin isn’t helping out, I am moody or unhelpful in return. If Zeb is cranky, I act cranky right back. It’s stupid, really because here’s the thing:

I need to be Who I Am, not because of anyone else, but because it’s who I want to be.

I want to be the kind, patient, compassionate mother, not to get a particular behavior from my son, but because I want to be that mother.

I want to be the generous, loving wife, not to get something from my husband, but because that’s the lover I want to be.

And what does it say about ourselves otherwise?

We expect kids and adults to “take responsibility” for their own actions and we don’t allow them to use others as a scapegoat for their own behavior. Then we yell, punish, criticize, humiliate, embarrass, lose our tempers or our patience and we say it’s because of something they did. We say it’s because we have to make a difference, because they need to change, because of some outcome if we don’t.

Bullshit.

It’s not because of what they do; it’s because of something we do. We base our actions off our expectations, instead of our intent. We sacrificed who we want to be because they aren’t being who we think they should be. And when we didn’t get what we wanted (and how often does coercion really result in real cooperation anyway?) we responded with something akin to a temper tantrum.

How can we possibly expect our children to do something we ourselves can’t master?

This is what unconditional love is about: That we continue to love a person in the same exact way regardless of whether they are being kind or mean, helpful or disruptive, quiet or loud, thoughtful or inconsiderate, joyful or short-tempered, patient or rude.

Anything less is not unconditional love. It’s fair-weather friendship, it’s the parent who isn’t there when their child is hurting, the partner who leaves you feeling alone. And if love is not unconditional, we’d better not call is love at all.

Over the past few weeks, with engine problems and stress pouring out of our ears, I’ve been told by nearly everyone that it all happens for a reason; it all works out for the greater good, that we are exactly where we need to be. It’s so easy to apply that principle to things like dead batteries or a long pause in your plans. But why don’t we apply the same principle to our relationships?

If we truly believe we are exactly where we need to be in tough times, that there are no accidents, and that it all happens for a reason, how can we try to change someone at all? Every mood, every attitude, every hurtful or kind word, every helpful or hindering action from our children, spouses, friends or loved ones is exactly where and what it needs to be.

It’s all good, even the messy, the hurtful, the disruptive. It’s all opportunity, experience, chances for understanding, an occasion for contrast, a space in which to learn. Not just for them, maybe not for them at all. Maybe it’s just there for us.

There is always a bigger picture to view. We get all caught up in the details of the moment, the stories we tell ourselves, without ever remembering one of the most important reasons for the moment, for life at all: Growth.

And only by meeting people where they are and accepting them for who they are in that very moment while remaining who we want to be, do we give anyone the opportunity to grow. Only by being the person we want to be can we allow others to be who they are, as well. Only by accepting ourselves as imperfect first, can others accept their own imperfections.

Only through unconditional love and compassion can anything be okay.

I lost it yesterday. We were trying to pack up the weekend leftovers and searching out the remnants of our keepers. I couldn’t find something and when I asked my husband if he’d seen it he said something that felt an awful lot like an accusation. I went to playful whack him, but it came out a whole lot more angrier than that. I think I shocked myself as much as I shocked him.

That’s when I realized I’m bordering on losing it. I went upstairs, laid down on the floor and took a four hour nap. When I woke up I went out to the RV and slept all night.

I’ve spent the entire morning in a very hot, very long bath trying to figure out where all the emotion came from. And I realized the estate sale was what I was holding in my mind as the last Big Thing to do before we leave. I was holding it all together to get through it, essentially putting off my own processing and acclimation and emotions until they now feel like they’re pouring out.

I feel a bit like I’m detoxing. My allergies have been horrendous, my head pounding and my body hurting. And my mind is so discombobulated I can hardly think straight. And when I look around there is still more to do than I imagined.

I’ve spent the last two nights sleeping in the RV. The first night was tough; I felt both safer and less safe. Safer because the area feels cozy, almost womb-like and I could hear any potential danger. Less safe because it felt we were so close to the outside world with only a few inches separating us from said potential danger.

Why I’ve even felt so concerned with “potential danger” is still unknown. I assume it goes back to that perceived sense of security we gain from a home. But on the other hand, living in a home with wheels means feeling unsafe is less likely – if we perceive danger, we can simply move on.

Zeb had a few rough days before and during the sale. I needed more help than he was able to manage and I had to remind myself that this isn’t his job. Since then he’s been able to balance helping out with enough downtime to still process and adjust.

Justin is still working on Benny’s veggie oil conversion with Sara’s husband, Matt and it’s taking much longer than anticipated. They are still waiting on parts to ship and we may not even be ready to roll out by Monday. Justin is also taking care of anything big, so that I can relax a bit today (it’s a pretty good man that sees my outburst as a cry for help).

I’m know there is a lesson in all this about “expectations” and “letting go”. Again. Because that seems to be the lesson of my life, doesn’t it? I need to take a really deep breath and stay in this moment. I need to let go of the expectation of things going a certain way or happening by a certain date. I need to chill and realize we’re not in a hurry. If I can’t do it now, how will I do it on the road?

When we first started discussing the decision to travel full-time and eventually settle outside of Vegas, we included Zeb. How could we not? He’s one-third of our family and his experience will be as life-changing as ours.

So, we sat down. We talked over our situation and our choices as best we could without overwhelming him or stressing out an easily-stressed soul. We told him every pro and con of full-time RVing we could think of, we gave him a timeline for being on the road but were honest that it could change, we discussed the potential challenges. And we asked what he thought.

He was hesitant, for sure. Thoughtful and questioning. But after some time, and a promise we’d make room for his Legos, he told us it would work for him.

And then he was excited…for about a week. That’s when his real transitioning began.

Zeb is an emotional, highly-sensitive child. He creates strong attachments to animals, friends and family, as well as things that hold special significance. For years he kept his school reports and certificates on his walls because it reminded him of *something* good from those difficult years. So it’s really no wonder that this transition – away from loved ones, best friends, his hometown, all that he knows, even his pets – would hit him hard.

All at once he was torn between sadness and anger. This isn’t to say he wasn’t simultaneously excited. But he realized how much he would miss his friends and family. He worried that he’d be bored. Truthfully, I think he was a bit afraid of such a Huge Unknown. In his ten years, he’s experienced some pretty difficult stuff and it’s left him leaning heavily toward the hesitant side of life. Now here we were, and he was feeling as if the security we’ve built for ourselves was being stripped away. It’s a big world out there and it’s already proven to sometimes be scary.

This went on for awhile. Some days  – many days – I didn’t handle it well. Truthfully, my own excitement was building and I was feeling resentful for his raining over my parade. I didn’t want to be pulled into the emotional upset and away from the budding joy. Internally, I didn’t think I had the energy to handle it.

On those days I tried to rationalize with him, remind him how much fun we’d have, how many more friends we’ll see and make, how many things we’ll have the opportunity to do. I took lots of deep breaths and left the room countless times. It’s not that I didn’t understand him. It’s that I was too wrapped up in my own expectations to react to his needs.

He doesn’t need to be rationalized with or reminded that he had once agreed. He needs to mourn what we are leaving behind, so that he can be prepared to move ahead.

Zeb has always needed a slow transition. He’s slow to get out of bed, slow to stop one thing and start another. We work with this by giving him plenty of notice before we leave, before we eat, before company comes.

And this anger and sadness was the beginning phase of a very big transition. All he needed from me was a place to vent, some validation over what will surely suck and some patience. So I finally stopped rationalizing or talking him out of his emotions. I stopped trying to fix it. (Wait. I thought I learned this one already?)

I allowed myself to be his emotional punching bag.

He needed a safe place to let it all out. And with lots of deep breaths and quiet reminders to myself to keep my mouth shut, I became that place. Sometimes he yelled, other times he cried. Sometimes he questioned and voiced concern. Some days he talked excitedly and made plans. At one point he blamed us for ruining his life and called us names, hating us with conviction. And that’s about when I was suddenly able to see past my own expectations and look with compassion on my son who was grieving a loss in advance.

And as soon as I managed to stay present and compassionate during his storm, it passed. In a matter of an hour he went from total meltdown to cuddling in our arms. In the end he gave us a look that resembled a Thank You, a hug that said I Love You Too and he was off to conquer the day without the heavy emotional load dragging him down.

I’m not about to assume we’ve seen the end. He’s not that kind of kid. And he still has his moments of fear amid the moments of excitement, although they aren’t as explosive now. But if I can remember to breath and not take it personally, I know we’ll get through them, too.

There is plenty more to say on the subject of transitioning/moving/traveling with a highly-sensitive child. You could probably consider this Part One.