Finding Grace and God in Mexico
A new door opening to self-compassion
I am so grateful for the increase of subscribers over this last year, almost at 900 which is almost at 1K and that would be a huge deal for me. Part of being a writer is the interaction with readers whether it be from a “like” or a comment or even the emails you send me acknowledging these words that I string together to process the topics I’m obsessed with — “Motherhood, Mental Health and Spirituality.” If you’re looking to spend time off social media or any other platforms, download the app you won’t be disappointed. There are some amazing writers here. Plus, there are benefits to interacting with me on the app as well like when I send out reminders of a mindfulness or free-write session or for us to have community conversations.
A huge thank you to you for being here.
This is a preview of some words that may go into the book I am writing about the 8-year journey as a mother who is challenged with her son’s mental health diagnosis from the age of 14. I’ve decided to make this for paid subscribers as it’s some of my most vulnerable and revealing writing I’ve published outside of my journals.
A pivotal moment in my spiritual journey was when I was with my family on a sailboat in Mexico, reading “Polishing the Mirror” by my beloved teacher, Ram Dass. Reading by book light, in the berth of the boat's bow, I found these words between tequila shots. Don’t judge. We were anchored in the tumultuous bay of Yelapa, where they told us not to anchor because we’d regret it, and sure enough, it was non-stop rocking like two determined kids on a seesaw in a violent way.
Our daughter was “sleeping” in the kitchen next to the table where the tequila rested peacefully, as she quietly watched her Dad and me stumble out to take one shot after another without crossing one another’s path. We both had the same desire to be knocked out for that long night.
It was the kind of night that is endless and dark, with the clock ticking like every minute is 120 seconds instead of 60, and the tiny inchworm is trying to get to the other side of the boat.
A perfect scenario for a spiritual awakening?
Let me rewind a bit to share why we were in the middle of Banderas Bay.
After my son had stabilized well enough from his mental health crisis in 2018, my husband booked us a family vacation in the port of Mexico on a 40-foot boat in the hopes of forging a deeper connection between us. My insides were still reeling from the intensity, loss, and confusion of the previous few years of hell our family went through, especially our son. Grief wanted me to run away from it all, and propelled me to ask for a separation. This was a last attempt to save our family unit, and while today I’m grateful for his efforts, at the time, my insides were in flight mode. There was no escaping the boat.
