After a bit of a stressful move, a weekend in which I had a fight (and a LOVELY make-upJ ) with my husband afterwards… no working wifi in the house…etc.

I woke up today, Monday, and decided to have a good day—to be the creator(ess) and do my workout no matter what. Once I got that down, I even decided to put on cheerful clothing—some of my favorite pieces & colors (turquoise and glitter, of course), and even put on a little makeup—as I rushed out the door to get my son to kindergarten by foot, and then myself on the next train to my “Integrationskurse,” basically German class.

Anyways…I push my son and I out the door, and we still manage to “save” a few snails on the walk down to his “Kinderhaus,” I still manage to shove him in the door, take his boots off, his “houseshoes” (a German must—that is, indoor/house slippers) on, and jacket off. Quick kiss, a wave by the window, and I manage to get to the train 2 minutes early still.

I make it to my German class late. There are no empty seats left. I make one between two ladies (this is an all-women’s class).

About 10 minutes into the class, the lady next to me (from Romania or Bulgaria, I forget right now) starts pointing out –or mimicking—the way I am journaling. With our respective broken German, I am trying to figure out what she is saying or meaning to say with pointing out that I am “schreiben” (writing). It seems like she just wants to make fun of or copy the gestures of what I am doing and laugh. Okay. Lost in translation? I make a generous assumption.

About 20 minutes after that, as I am returning from a trip to the bathroom, she turns towards me, points to my clothing and says, in German, “You wear things as if you just want everyone to look at you. You look like you’re going to the disco. All this bright stuff.” I am a little floored. I don’t know what this lady’s problem is with me today. The girl on the other side of me says, “We call this [on your clothing] glitter.” I go off of her cue and try to take the tension out of the room, adding, “Yes, this is glitter. I like glitter. Don’t you like glitter?” The woman who started off pointing out my clothes makes a yucky face. “No.” “Ok, well, then, I don’t really know why you’re pointing out all of the things you don’t like about me today, but…I just don’t think it’s necessary. Thanks.” (in broken German) She says to me she doesn’t think I understand what I am saying to her. But the thing is, I perfectly understand what she’s saying. She further tells me that she dresses “normal”.

I am sure I will have more to say on the topic later, as I am about to read “Warrior Goddess Training”; however, in the meantime this: Sisters, we are here to LIFT one another UP! Sure, we all have a day where we catch ourselves about to rant…and that is okay. But we must distinguish –are we gossiping about someone or being clear we are venting to find out how and where WE can take ownership of the situation? Are we sharing to grow or to push others down?

When we take part in gossip and judging others, the only one who comes off looking pretty bad is ourselves; this is wholly distinct from when we consciously engage in a conversation with a friend and first “lay it all out on the table”, so to speak, so as to later start distinguishing and putting things in order and their rightful place—with responsibility and ownership.

Know what I mean? Truly, what lies at the heart of this matter, at least very, very personally for me, has to do with the Mother Wound. Some of you may know that I am an affiliate for Bethany Webster’s “Healing the Mother Wound course,” this being because I am a FIRM believer that this healing [of the mother wound] is at the very crux of our reclaiming of our essence. For me, I have to go back through the loop of the spiral, time and time again; this time, it is to notice—just as it is difficult for me, taboo by our culture, to acknowledge how raw, vulnerable, and needy the little tiny Tanya in me is (my inner child) –it can also be hard for me to acknowledge that I have been hurt. When a friend, another woman, or someone else, simply, does something hurtful, it can be difficult for me to acknowledge that this is painful because I often wanted to overlook the wounds my own mother inflicted on me. I so many times wanted to overstep my own boundaries with regards to my own mother’s behavior—to accept her clear violations of obvious “good” behavior, that it can be difficult for me to uphold the boundaries towards other sisters, women, when, even when they are clearly acting out, in response to my own inner compassionate, empathic healer. I am not saying I would want to become this women’s best friend, but, I would hesitate to share this story with others for fear of being a gossip, rather than allowing myself the need to share because I feel hurt.

Let’s be good sisters for one another. Let’s hold space for one another—to love, to learn, AND to GROW. Let’s not cast out each other shame, however, also not enable one another to continue behaviors that only hurt ourselves and others; and let us do this by continuing to share. To open ourselves. To be courageous, brave, and live big (paraphrasing Brené Brown).