Throughout 2018 and into the winter of 2019, I composted my life.
What do I mean by that?
I let it all go.
I let go of the bulk of the business that supported me for 12 years.
I let go of my marriage.
I let go of my dreams of becoming a mother.
Here I was about to turn 45 and I was faced with the truth that
I’ve always been easy to laugh. My Venezuelan cousins teased me as kids because they’d make up silly jokes that even they didn’t think were funny, and I thought they were hilarious.
It’s almost as if the child in me was tapped into the inherent joy of their silliness rather than getting caught up in what ends up being our adult, intellectualized funny/not-funny pre-requisite for allowing ourselves to laugh.
Over the past few weeks, I've been blogging about the fact that our ancestors’ experiences got passed down to our generation, along with the color of our hair, our height, and our general personality traits.
We'll call my client Rose.
Last week I shared with you that in Family Therapy there's this cool tool we use called a Family Histogram.
Doing my own histogram helped me discover that my great-grandmother's forbidden love for my great-grandfather, their illicit affair, and their early deaths leaving my grandmother an orphan, had affected my life in ways I hadn't realized before.
I got my Masters Degree in Counseling in 2003, and my certification in nutrition coaching in 2006. In other words, I've been immersed in the field of health, emotions and food for some time.
So when I woke up with eyelids nearly swollen shut a few weeks ago, I was perplexed.
What could have brought this on?