Hands Free Mama: Recent Episodes
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Recently I shared this essay with my Treehouse community, and I was deeply moved by how many people said, “This gave language to something I haven’t been able to explain.”
If you’ve been feeling unlike yourself lately, I wanted to share it with you, too…
One of the kindest things I ever did for myself was tell my daughter, “I am not myself right now.”
Last December, Natalie asked me to accompany her to her triathlon event in Florida, which meant six full days together.
Since she no longer lived at home, she had no idea how much I’d been struggling with hormonal changes, adjusting to Avery going to college, and a general heaviness brought on by the world’s pain and my own.
“I’ve been seeing a doctor to get my hormones balanced and my anemia treated,” I explained. “But I find myself becoming agitated more easily. I can’t stay in grocery stores very long. Loud situations send me into fight-or-flight. So, if you see me taking little walks to step away from the crowd, that’s why. It isn’t anything you’ve done.”
I’ve learned that communicating our discomfort is often kinder than expecting people to interpret it. When we put words to what we’re carrying, the people we love are less likely to internalize our struggle as something they’ve caused.
Natalie listened. She asked thoughtful questions. She gave me space when I needed it. She held me after a nightmare.
Never once did I blow up at her.
Looking back, I realize that telling her the truth was one of the kindest things I could have done for myself. Instead of keeping my sadness and discomfort bottled up until it spilled over, I was able to receive what I actually needed. Space. Understanding. Even moments of joy in situations that would have otherwise overwhelmed me.
I also realize I wasn’t simply explaining my behavior. I was giving both of us permission. Permission for me to not be myself for a while. Permission for her not to wonder if she had caused it.
Telling her the truth didn’t take away what I was carrying.
It simply meant I didn’t have to carry it alone.
Last week I found myself in that same place again. Only this time, the words stayed inside me.
Scott had asked me how my day was. I immediately began to cry.
I had taken my fourteen-year-old cat Banjo to the veterinary specialist. I found out he has small cell gastrointestinal lymphoma.
I’d known from the moment I walked through the door after moving Natalie into her new apartment in early June that something was still being missed at his regular vet. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Banjo’s body was trying to tell us something no one had yet found.
I was right.
As Scott held me, one thought became unmistakably clear.
I am not myself.
When I stop to consider everything my body is carrying, it makes sense. My recent blood work showed my iron reserves are almost depleted. My doctor has referred me for iron infusions, but there are still several steps before treatment can begin. Between the profound fatigue, hormones that still aren’t settled, and feeling Banjo’s spine beneath my hand each time I pet him, tears seem to arrive with very little invitation these days.
By Thursday morning, I knew I needed to move my body.
I’ve lived long enough to know that when life feels especially heavy, staying connected to my body matters more, not less.
As I stood by the door debating whether to brave the heat for a walk, I suddenly found myself thinking about another summer.
It was 2019, and Avery had just started sleeping in a tight, restrictive plastic brace to correct the curvature of her spine.
Wearing that brace was going to affect everything, I remember thinking. She wasn’t going to sleep well for quite some time. She’d probably be tired. She might be grouchy. It would take time for her body to adjust.
She wasn’t going to be herself for a while.
Looking back, it strikes me that I instinctively adjusted my expectations. I understood that discomfort changes people. Remembering everything her body was carrying made it easier to respond with compassion and understanding.
Then one morning Avery unexpectedly slept almost the entire night in her brace.
“What do you think made the difference?” I asked, hoping we could repeat whatever helped.
She didn’t hesitate.
“Being in the water.”
The evening before, we’d gone to the neighborhood pool to swim, stretch, float, and talk.
Because Avery was convinced the water helped, we didn’t miss a morning swim that entire summer.
Looking back now, I don’t think the water cured anything. It simply gave her body what it needed most in that season.
A place to stretch.
A place to float.
A place where the weight of that brace disappeared, if only for a little while.
Before Avery began swimming each morning, there was something she always did first. She rescued the bugs floating in the corners of the pool.
Many were already gone, but she scooped each one gently into her hand, placed it on the warm concrete, and watched carefully for any sign of life.
One morning I watched her swim into the deep end where she couldn’t touch the bottom. Keeping her head barely above water, she carried a tiny bug in one open hand while propelling herself forward with the other.
As if sensing me watching, she called,
“It’s a little heart… but it’s a heart. And we should do everything we can to keep it beating.”
I remember marveling that even while her own body was carrying something so heavy and difficult, she still noticed tiny, vulnerable things.
Pain hadn’t changed the Noticer in her.
If anything, it had made her heart even more attentive.
Avery still had room to care.
Looking back, I find myself wondering if the compassion I offered Avery that summer mattered more than I realized.
I adjusted my expectations. I looked for conditions that helped her body soften. I remembered everything she was carrying.
The way I mothered Avery that summer is the way I need to be mothered now.
But why is it so much harder to remember what our own bodies are carrying?
Why do we expect ourselves to keep functioning as though nothing has changed?
Lately I’ve cried more easily than usual.
I’ve grieved Banjo’s diagnosis.
I’ve struggled with the exhaustion of anemia.
I already miss Avery before she’s even gone back to college.
Some days I’ve felt overwhelmed by noise, crowds, and the weight of the world.
And yet…
I’m still writing to my beloved community.
Still corresponding with readers who share pieces of their lives with me.
Still preparing gatherings where we can care for one another.
In fact, I intentionally scheduled a gathering with my Treehouse community for the evening before Banjo’s appointment with the specialist.
I’ve learned that when I know something difficult is ahead, it helps to place something nourishing beforehand whenever I can.
Sure enough, after we gathered, I climbed down the Treehouse ladder feeling steadier, calmer, and more hopeful than when I climbed up.
Many readers have loved Banjo right alongside me over the years, so you can probably imagine how much I needed that steadiness before his appointment the next day.
Afterward, several women wrote to say our time together had helped them feel steadier, calmer, and less alone.
As my own world felt like it was coming undone, knowing our time together had helped steady someone else became an anchor for me, too.
Perhaps that’s what compassion does.
It creates conditions where hearts can keep beating.
Instead of judging ourselves for not feeling like ourselves, perhaps this is the season to remember everything our bodies are carrying.
This afternoon, after finishing this essay, I think I’ll head back to the neighborhood pool.
I know the water won’t cure my anemia or change Banjo’s diagnosis.
I’ll go anyway because sometimes our bodies remember what our minds forget.
The same water that helped Avery soften into a brace she never wanted may help me soften into a season I never asked for.
Maybe I’ll float.
Maybe I’ll stretch.
Maybe I’ll rescue a bug if one needs rescuing.
I may not feel like myself right now.
But my heart still knows the way.
My hand in yours,
Rachel
If this essay resonated with you, I’d love to invite you to continue the conversation with me in July’s Treehouse Gathering.
I’ll be sharing a mistake I made during Avery’s very first week of college, while we were both learning how to navigate the ache of letting go. I replayed that moment in my mind far longer than she ever did. Looking back now, I realize the hardest part wasn’t what happened. It was what I believed it said about me.
Avery’s response changed the way I think about mistakes, repair, and the possibility of self-forgiveness. If you’ve ever carried an old regret longer than necessary—or found yourself wondering whether you’ll ever stop being defined by a past version of yourself—I hope you’ll join us.
We’ll gather live on Tuesday, July 28 at 8:00 p.m. Eastern, and if you can’t make it, the replay will be ready for you the following day. To receive the Zoom link next week & replay via email, click here to join the Treehouse.
Rachel’s Treehouse is a place where compassion meets practical guidance—for anyone who wants to be kinder to themselves, calmer in the relationships that matter most, and more grounded through life’s hardest seasons. I’d love to welcome you there.
Five years ago, I found myself leaning on my child.
I’d recently had foot surgery and was confined to a bulky walking boot. In a spur-of-the-moment decision, my then 14-year-old daughter and I boarded a plane to visit people who loved us unconditionally.
With my foot confined to a bulky walking boot, I knew traveling wasn’t going to be easy. What I didn’t know was who would end up carrying whom.
Through the long corridors,
the tall escalators,
the daunting ticket lines,
Avery never failed to offer me her arm.
Again.
And again.
And again.
If you were following my work back then, you know those were difficult years. We were living through the aftermath of something that changed our family in ways we never expected. Avery and I were both learning how to find solid ground again.
In the face of so much pain and uncertainty, I often wondered if I was taking the best possible steps, saying the right things, and loving her as supportively as I could.
I worried constantly about what those difficult seasons were taking from her.
During that time, I held on to this belief:
A child’s path to independence can be tumultuous
and still end up ok…
if we’re willing to stay present through the pain.
At the time, those weren’t words of certainty.
They were words of hope.
Last week, I watched that hope—now 19 years old—walk into a summer camp for children with cancer and their siblings. A camper in Avery’s unit had huddled inside a bathroom, unwilling to return to the cafeteria. Avery said she couldn’t blame her. It was loud, chaotic, and overstimulating.
So, Avery sat with her. Rather than demanding she return to lunch, she explained the situation and offered her a little more time.
And when they finally walked back together, Avery asked,
“Can I walk with you?”
“Ok,” said the middle schooler.
Up until that moment, she had only wanted to walk by herself.
Later that night, Avery told me about the interaction. Amazed by her instinct, I asked how she’d known what to do.
“I explained that I was in a tough spot. I told her I understood the lunchroom was loud and hard for her, but I needed to get back because the other counselors and campers needed me. I asked her, ‘How can I help you and still do what I need to do?’”
Then Avery added something that made me pause.
“I just treated her like I wanted to be treated when I was struggling.”
I’ve been thinking about those words ever since.
Years ago, I worried that life’s hardest seasons were taking something from Avery.
Looking back, I can see they were giving her something, too…
They taught her to recognize overwhelm before it became defiance.
They taught her that inviting someone into the solution builds trust.
They taught her what it feels like when someone steps back instead of pushing harder.
They taught her that sometimes the bravest question isn’t,
“Why won’t you cooperate?”
It’s,
“How can I help?”
In that moment, I saw the connection.
Five years ago, Avery offered me her arm.
Last week, she offered someone else the same steady presence.
Different gesture.
Same love.
Sometimes the very experiences we wish our children never had become the source of their deepest empathy.
When I told my friend Kerry Foreman, a therapist, how naturally Avery seemed to connect with the campers, Kerry didn’t even hesitate.
“Walking through hard things builds you for this stuff.”
Avery wasn’t relying on a training manual or camp protocols in that moment. She was drawing from the hard places she had already walked through.
She remembered what it felt like to be overwhelmed.
To feel vulnerable.
To wish someone would explain instead of demand.
To need understanding more than instruction.
Because she remembered, she knew how to help.
As parents, we often wonder whether our children who go through hard things will be okay. We rarely get to see the answer all at once. Instead, it arrives in pieces.
In the way they speak to someone who’s frightened.
In the way they notice the child standing alone.
In the way they instinctively choose connection over control.
Looking back, I realize the hope I carried five years ago was well placed.
A child’s path to independence can indeed be tumultuous…
and still become something beautiful.
And part of the beauty is this:
Healing doesn’t always look like leaving our hardest seasons behind.
Sometimes it looks like carrying what those seasons taught us into someone else’s life,
so another person doesn’t have to make the journey alone.
My hand in yours,
Rachel
Hearing Avery tell me about that camper reminded me of a lesson that has carried my family through some of our toughest seasons:
Fear wears disguises… so does grief… so does anxiety.
When we learn to see the human beneath the behavior—whether in our children, our partners, our parents, or ourselves—everything begins to change.
In this month’s Treehouse Teaching & Reflection Gathering on Sunday, June 28 at 4 p.m. Eastern, I’ll share the story that first taught me this lesson, along with two practical tools that have helped my family return to connection when fear, grief, or anxiety speaks through behavior instead of words.
One of those tools prompted a mother to write after moving her daughter into college:
“Instead of taking control and being mom with a zillion questions and demands, I just asked her, ‘How can I help?’ Then she turned to me and said she was anxious and trying not to let that make her angry or lash out. She thanked me for asking what I could do. We both smiled and hugged. Thank you for your article, which helped us stop the anxiety from becoming something else and helped me focus on her needs rather than my own fears.”
I’ll share the practices behind that shift and provide both tools in a downloadable PDF so you can keep them nearby whenever you need them most.
If you’ve been thinking about climbing my Treehouse ladder, this would be a wonderful month to join us.
For $5 a month, you’ll become part of Rachel’s Treehouse—a place where we walk beside one another through life’s hardest seasons, strengthen our relationships, and practice returning to ourselves with compassion.
Whether you join us live or watch the replay later, I’d love to have you with us. Zoom link will be sent via email on Saturday. Replay sent on Monday. Subscribe here.
I walked out of the doctor’s office through the hospital corridor in a daze. While lost in thought over the painful examination, new treatment options, and the mention of another surgery, I walked right past the elevator.
That’s when I found myself peering into an occupied hospital room. I could hear the television drifting from the doorway. Drew Carey was announcing the spectacular prizes in the Showcase Showdown. I could see the bump of sock-covered feet beneath warm blankets. A food tray pulled close enough to reach the cup of ice water.
I stood frozen, overcome by the urge to crawl into that empty bed next to the window.
I yearned to shut the door to the world, drink apple juice with tiny ice crystals, and have someone remind me to rest. Just rest.
The longing hit me so hard, I felt ashamed.
That’s when the inner critic pounced.
“What is wrong with you? Normal people dream of tropical getaways not hospital stays!“
But beneath the shame was something truer:
I was exhausted.
Not just physically, but also emotionally. Spiritually. Mentally.
At the time, I was carrying the invisible weight so many women carry without question: caregiving, deadlines, emotional labor, decision fatigue, worry about the people I loved, worry about the state of the world, and the relentless pressure to keep functioning no matter how depleted I felt inside.
In thirty minutes, the school bus would drop off Avery. I still needed to figure out dinner, pick up medication, answer emails, prepare for a speaking engagement, mail out a sympathy card, and schedule Banjo’s vet appointment.
Somewhere underneath all those responsibilities was a weary human quietly longing for care.
Years ago, I might have judged myself for that longing.
Now I understand it differently.
That moment outside the hospital room wasn’t weakness; it was unmet needs.
And strangely enough, a crumpled dollar bill in my purse helped me understand that.
I had made my way to the parking garage and was rummaging around my purse for cash to pay for parking. That’s when I found the crumpled dollar bill wadded up so tightly it was barely recognizable.
Suddenly, I was transported back to the summer I was nineteen, when I spent my days caring for toddlers with solemn expressions and perpetually runny noses and my nights searching for acceptance and belonging in all the wrong places.
One afternoon, a daycare co-worker named Miss Faith asked if I could drive her home after work. As much as I wanted to get home and crawl into bed, I said yes.
Miss Faith worked in the kitchen preparing meals for the children and staff. She had silver hair, arthritic hands, and a gentleness that made people feel safe almost instantly.
During the drive, she shared pieces of her life with me: a forty-seven-year marriage, the grief of losing her husband, and the responsibility of caring for her aging mother.
“But even when it’s bad, there’s still good,” Miss Faith said cheerfully. “No matter how achy or tired I feel, I’m grateful I get to put nourishing food into those babies’ bellies.”
When we arrived at her tiny house with bars on the windows, she opened her purse and handed me a crumpled dollar bill.
“I’ve asked others for rides,” she admitted softly, “but I quickly began to feel like an inconvenience.”
The next day, I offered to drive her home again. Soon it became our rhythm.
Miss Faith couldn’t give me a dollar every day that summer, but she gave me something far more valuable: perspective, compassion, and grace.
One afternoon when I dropped Faith off, she told me I was a “wonderful young lady”.
“I don’t feel like it,” I confessed, unexpectedly vulnerable with my unconventional friend. “I feel like a mess. I keep making bad choices, and I wonder if I’ll ever do anything with my life that actually matters.”
Faith leaned into the open car window. “You come to the daycare each morning at 7:30am to love on vulnerable babies, and you drive an old lady home, and you are kind. You are doing just fine.”
That moment marked a turning point in my Summer of Shame and offered a glimpse of grace.
“Even when it’s bad, there’s still good,” Miss Faith had told me, and for the first time, I began to wonder if that goodness might exist beneath my shame too.
Years later, I think about both versions of myself often: the nineteen-year-old desperate to feel worthy and the overwhelmed mother longing for permission to rest in a hospital bed.
Neither woman was weak.
Neither woman needed shame.
Both women had needs they didn’t yet know how to honor.
I think many of us reach adulthood fluent in responsibility but disconnected from our own humanity. We notice everyone else’s hunger, exhaustion, discomfort, and overwhelm while dismissing our own.
And eventually, our unmet needs begin speaking through anxiety, resentment, numbness, over-functioning, or fantasies of escape.
Sometimes they whisper.
Sometimes they scream.
Avery is now the same age I was that pivotal summer. As I watch her prepare for her counselor position at a summer camp for children with cancer, I notice how instinctively she pays attention to what she needs.
When she feels overwhelmed, she rests. When she needs quiet, she gives herself alone time. When something feels off in her body or spirit, she notices instead of immediately pushing through.
Watching Avery has made me realize how many years I treated my own needs like inconveniences instead of important information.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about how healing it is when we finally stop judging those signals and start listening to them with compassion instead.
Perhaps the goal is not to become someone who never struggles.
Perhaps the goal is to become someone who no longer abandons herself in the struggle.
My hand in yours,
Rachel
If your needs have been whispering (or screaming)…
Part journal, part gathering place, Rachel’s Treehouse is where I help weary humans move through hard seasons with compassion, reconnect with their dreamer within, and remember they are not alone.
Through personal essays, monthly teaching and reflection gatherings, guided practices, and honest conversations, we gently explore what it means to care for ourselves and one another in more healing, connected ways.
If this essay resonated with you, and you’ve been wondering what your own exhaustion, resentment, numbness, control, or longing might be trying to tell you, I’d love to invite you into this month’s Treehouse Gathering.
Join me this Sunday, May 31st at 7pm Eastern for my monthly Treehouse Teaching & Reflection via Zoom (recording sent the following day).
Together, we’ll explore the unmet needs that often live beneath over-functioning, overwhelm, and self-abandonment. Using a guided needs inventory, reflective prompts, and supportive tools I share in my retreats and teachings, participants will identify at least one neglected need and create a compassionate plan for tending to it in the days ahead.
We’ll also explore ways to communicate our needs without guilt, over explaining, or abandoning ourselves in the process.
My monthly teaching sessions are part of the full community experience of Rachel’s Treehouse on Substack for $5/month or $3.75/month with an annual subscription. The Zoom link will be sent to your email inbox before the gathering. You can choose your subscription tier by clicking here.
What people are saying…
On the morning of my daughter’s high school graduation last spring, I received difficult news.
Staring at the text message, I took a few deep breaths and weighed my options.
Responding right then would’ve meant halting my morning preparations to craft a reply—one that undoubtedly would pull me away from the joy of the day and into an emotional spiral.
I glanced at the message again, felt the familiar tug of urgency, and made a conscious decision to put away my phone and turn back to the mirror.
As I steadied myself, three familiar words quietly rose within me:
Only Love Today.
When I got into the car with several family members, I briefly considered sharing the news. But I knew saying it out loud would throw me off-center and cast a shadow over our momentous day.
It helped to remember something my mom once told me after I delayed sharing difficult news with my children:
“It’s okay to give yourself time to process hard things before helping anyone else do the same.”
There’s an unspoken pressure to deliver bad news the moment we receive it, as if immediacy is a measure of responsibility. But I’ve come to believe that giving ourselves space to breathe, to think, to feel, is not avoidance; it’s wisdom.
My mom’s advice had helped me immensely in the past, and it felt like what I needed then. I took it a step further by imagining my small, beige clutch as a lock box. I placed the bad news inside—figuratively—and sealed it shut. There was nothing I could do about the situation at that moment, so I let it rest there while I turned my attention to what mattered most: fully witnessing this milestone in my daughter’s life.
Before sealing away the weight of the bad news, I reached for something to anchor me in the moment: an embroidered handkerchief sent by a dear friend.
Tucked inside was a message that read,
“Rachel, you are worthy of pretty handkerchiefs as you plant pauses and behold the beauty of Avery’s graduation.”
It was as if my friend intuitively knew exactly what I would need on this day. What she didn’t know was that my 85-year-old dad had carried a white hanky in his pocket every day of my life. Having this reminder of him felt especially poignant. A month before graduation, he’d made a difficult phone call to Avery—his voice catching as he explained that his health wouldn’t allow him to travel for the ceremony.
For a moment, I saw disappointment flash across my daughter’s face. But just as quickly, she collected herself and assuredly told her beloved grandpa his safety and well-being mattered more than anything else.
I knew then how important it would be to share the experience with my dad later. As I surveyed the rows and rows of chairs that would soon hold a graduate, I thought of how each one carried a story of quiet triumph.
I looked around at the proud, smiling families eagerly awaiting their child’s entrance.
And I said a quiet prayer for the family of the graduate who is no longer with us—their empty chair marked by a graduation gown and a white rose.
Staying present in that moment was the gift I gave myself, so that later, I could give it to my dad. I wanted him to know not just what took place, but how the experience felt.
It wasn’t long before Avery and her fellow graduates entered the convention center donned in their caps and gowns. As the traditional graduation march filled the convocation center, tears began to flow. In that moment, I remembered the deeper promise I was keeping, not just to my child, but also to myself.
Fourteen years earlier, at Avery’s preschool graduation, I’d had a painful awakening. I realized I was missing my own life—living distracted, self-critical, always managing—and with that, missing the chance to truly know my child. That day, as the tiny graduates sang songs about growing up, I cried tears of gratitude. Because of that awakening, I believed there was a good chance I would truly know my daughter.
Later, I wrote in my journal:
“I can’t help but feel excited about who Avery will be when she walks across the high school graduation stage years from now. I can picture it – my curly-haired Noticer of life brightening the whole auditorium with her contagious smile. I’ll lean over to the person sitting next to me and whisper, ‘I know her; I know every good thing about her.’”
To stand there all these years later, watching that same bright soul walk across the stage – and to actually know her – felt like a miracle.
Rarely does life unfold exactly as we imagined. Even when we think the plan is coming together, it can suddenly unravel. That’s when we have to return to what we can control — and our attention is one of those things.
**We can stay fixated on how it was “supposed” to be… or we can protect what remains.
We can choose to stay present for what is still ours to celebrate.**Not forever.
Not perfectly.
Just today.
Just this moment.
That is what I managed to do at my daughter’s high school graduation.
Today I see the proof on the handkerchief—decorated with faint traces of makeup and dried tears.
Evidence that I was all there—
sitting with joy and sorrow
the regrets and the grace
filling the gaps, the holes, the empty seats—
with all the love and presence a heart can hold.
My hand in yours,
Rachel
I’ve realized over the years that staying present rarely happens by accident. Most of us need gentle reminders to come back – to the people in front of us, to ourselves, to what matters most.
That realization inspired something very special I’ve been working on throughout the past year: the Only Love Today 2027 page-a-day calendar.
Designed as a daily companion, this color, tear-off calendar offers one compassionate reminder each day to breathe, refocus, soften, and begin again.
Calendars will begin shipping in August, and because print quantities are set early, pre-ordering is the best way to ensure you receive a calendar, especially if you’re hoping to have extras to give as gifts.
You can pre-order on Amazon, Walmart, Books-a-Million, or BulkBookStore. Some international retailers are also carrying it.
Just like with books, pre-orders serve as “votes,” helping this message find its way into more hands, homes, and hearts. So if you are planning to order, it would help tremendously if you do so now rather than later.
As always, I am so grateful for your support and steadfast belief in me.
“Come on in,” the gray-haired gentleman waved from the middle seat of aisle 10 on my flight headed home. I looked to the elderly woman seated next to him, hoping to get some clarity on the situation.
“He has bad legs and can’t stand so good,” she quickly explained. “Would you be so kind to just slide by?”
I took a deep breath and awkwardly squeezed past to get to my window seat.
“You just saved me a whole lotta trouble,” the man said, smiling warmly. “How’s your day going?”
I knew right then and there my hopes of sticking my iPods in my ears and chilling out would have to wait. I’d just led a multi-day workshop and desperately needed to restore my internal battery.
Within a few minutes of conversation, we discovered the couple lived in the city where my family and I used to live. Amazingly, the man had even had a hand in building the homes in the neighborhood where my daughters spent their childhood. Now he was a grandpa of ten, a retired builder, with a hobby of painting on canvas with acrylics.
I learned this as the plane filled with passengers.
Just as the man’s wife was about to show me his latest works of art captured on her phone, our chat was interrupted.
“You’re in my seat,” a man in a business suit curtly informed the woman. “I am in 10D.”
She explained they’d been moved to this row at the last minute because of her husband’s leg condition. As she tried to pull up proof on her phone, the man grew increasingly agitated.
And then something happened that I did not expect.
“If we have to move,” said the white-haired gentleman beside me, “will you move with us?”
I froze.
One part of me stiffened and screamed, BOUNDARIES, Rachel! Surely you’re not going to do that??
Another part of me softened and whispered, CONNECTION, Rachel. Thank you for listening to this man. Clearly, you’ve made a difference.
What eventually came out of my mouth was a direct result of the Soul Shift practices that have guided my inner work, along with somatic therapy. Over time, I’ve learned to preserve the empath in me while setting healthy boundaries so I can live whole, protected, and fulfilled.
“This is my seat,” I said to him gently. “So I’ll need to stay here, but maybe it’ll work out that we can stay together.”
“I sure hope so,” the man said wistfully. “You just don’t meet people like you every day.”
It turned out the couple got to remain in their current seats. I did get my rest because the friendly gentleman fell asleep as soon as he was covered in a blanket and slept the entire flight.
As we began our descent, his wife gently roused him.
“Wake up, honey,” she whispered. “It’s time for your medication.”
Once he was alert, I asked if they were going to make the late-night drive home, which I knew was about three hours from the airport.
“We are going to stay at a hotel tonight,” the man explained. “But we gotta leave first thing. It’s time for me to start cancer treatments. My doctor found three spots on my liver last month, but he let us take our anniversary cruise to Alaska.”
I told him how sorry I was to hear this news.
“No matter what happens,” he said cheerfully, “I’m just glad I met you.”
“I’m glad I met you too,” I said, feeling tears come to the surface.
Something in this man’s tenderness cracked open a place in me I’d been working hard to heal.
See, the thing is, when you begin to notice past patterns through therapy and inner work—and you see all the times you didn’t protect yourself, there’s a deep ache.
You look back and label those moments—
the times you didn’t speak up for yourself,
the times you let people take advantage of you,
the times you ignored your body’s warning signs—
as moments you abandoned yourself.
When you release fawning behaviors, you suddenly remember all the times you said yes when you wanted to say no, sometimes at the cost of your own well-being. And it’s easy to feel shame. But those were survival strategies, earnest attempts to feel safe and accepted, until you discovered that worthiness was never something you had to earn.
But in this exchange with the elderly man beside me, some of that old shame lifted. I saw my willingness to be open, trusting, and overly kind to people not as gullible or naïve, but as a soft strength worth safeguarding.
And given we are living in a time when helping our neighbors has never mattered more, the timing of that release felt perfect.
Instantly, I felt grateful for my seat in 10F…
where I was reminded that boundaries and compassion can sit side by side,
where my limits could be honored without my losing heart,
where I could rest and still care deeply,
where I could give yet also receive.
I realized then that I never want my boundaries to be so tall or so hard that they keep me from reaching – or being reached.
The world is aching for human connection right now. And I’m learning that I possess qualities that help people feel safe in my presence.
The stranger on the plane reminded me:
We were never meant to navigate life alone.
We were meant to keep reaching—
even when it scares us,
even when we’re weary,
even when it would be easier to close off.
So, I’ll keep practicing this balance:
protecting my peace while staying open to connection,
making room for grace in the middle seat,
and trusting that what’s meant to meet me will find a way through.
Because now I know,
my heart won’t lead me astray.
My hand in yours,
Rachel
If this story resonated with you—the pull between protecting your peace and staying open to connection—this is the very work that shaped Soul Shift: The Weary Human’s Guide to Getting Unstuck and Reclaiming Your Path to Joy.
I’m grateful to share the book is being released to the world in paperback on Tuesday, something that only happens when a message has found its way into many hands and hearts.
So, if you’ve been waiting for a time to bring Soul Shift into your life—or to share it with someone you love—consider this a sign.
It’s not a book of answers, but a companion for moments just like this.
Moments when you’re learning to trust yourself,
honor your boundaries,
and tend to what is true for you.
So that even in an uncertain world, you can protect your peace without closing your heart.
From readers who have walked alongside this work…
“As I approach my 50th birthday and a new stage of life, I’ve been trying to regain a sense of who I want to be. This book came at the perfect time and helped me do that in an uplifting, supportive way. I even sent a copy to my daughter in college, who is on her own journey of becoming.” —Sarah
“This beautiful book is one I return to on the hard days when I feel like I’m not enough. Rachel’s words help me reconnect with my ‘Dreamer Girl’ and find my way back to joy. This is a book to be loved and shared.” —Amy
“Listening to Rachel’s words during moments of struggle feels like a true comfort. Living with a chronic illness, I need something that is both engaging and gentle, and this book is that rare gift. Rachel seems like she understands people who struggle and meets them exactly where they are, with no judgment and a compassionate, outstretched hand.” —CM
Soul Shift is available wherever you like to buy your books, including Bookshop, Amazon, and Barnes & Noble. I am so grateful for your support.
A final note…
It’s not too late to register for my Only Love Today Retreat for Givers happening on April 24-26 at the renowned Kripalu center in Western Massachusetts. I’ve created this restorative experience especially for those who spend much of their lives caring for others and are ready to receive care themselves — to rest, reconnect, and rebuild a kinder relationship with their inner world and their body.
Together, we practice slowing down, listening inward, and learning how to give ourselves the same compassion we so freely offer others. Through storytelling, guided reflection, gentle practices, and supportive community, you’ll begin creating sustainable rituals of nourishment, rest, movement, and boundary-honoring that can travel home with you.
There are currently 17 lovely souls registered—perhaps you are meant to join us. This will be my only in-person retreat in 2026. If you feel a nudge to be there, please let me know, so we can make it happen. Learn more by clicking here.
Lately, I’ve been noticing how the most ordinary moments can hold something steady and life-giving when I need it most.
These are not big, life-changing events—just small moments that remind me who we are to each other… and how much our presence still matters.
I wanted to share two of those moments with you today.
My hope is that, as you read, you might begin to notice your own—and feel a little more steady as you move through this spring season in a world that feels heavy and uncertain.
Closer Than I Thought My young adult daughter is a few months from college graduation and finds herself facing a difficult and unexpected shift in her future plans.
“Would you come spend the weekend with me?” she asked.
I excitedly made the 2.5-hour drive. When I pulled into her apartment complex, I was surprised to find her waiting outside, standing at the top of the drive, waving in the sunshine.
My eyes filled with tears.
Suddenly, I felt so much compassion for my younger self — the mother who was learning to love herself while raising this strong, independent child.
So many times, when I knew I’d let us both down, I’d say to myself, I’m not where I want to be.
But I stayed in it… learning and trying, apologizing and loving my way through each day, hoping that someday I would get to a place I could be proud of.
Seeing my daughter waving me into a parking spot, inviting me into her world, felt like arriving somewhere sacred.
I was right where I wanted to be: fully human, fully present, ready to meet her uncertainty with love.
And I couldn’t help but feel how this is true for all of us:
You actually may be much closer to “where you want to be” than you think.
The willingness to show up for yourself and for those you love is taking you farther than you realize.
Keep going.
Part of Something MoreI went to a high school baseball game the other night with my husband. Our 17-year-old neighbor recently made a highly competitive varsity team, and we wanted to show our support.
His parents saved us spots for our pop-up chairs. They hugged us and thanked us profusely for coming. As parents, we understood. When people who aren’t obligated come to support your kid… well, it feels like a gift you can’t quite repay.
For six innings we cheered for his team, waving to him in the dugout, hoping he might get a chance to play.
It wasn’t until the bottom of the sixth that his coach sent him in as a pinch runner. As he took his position at second base, his mom leaned in and said, “I know he doesn’t look fast, but he can run.”
I knew his hitting game had gotten off to a rocky start this season. I found myself holding my breath, wanting this small chance to go well.
The batter sent a line drive into right field. Our neighbor rounded third and headed for home. It was going to be close.
He dove headfirst across the plate.
He was safe!
The team ran out of the dugout and surrounded him. His parents were on their feet, hands in the air.
And me, the woman who was just there to support her neighbor?
I got teary, the same way I did when my daughters played high school sports… lump in my throat, pride swelling.
Afterward, I had that familiar emotional high that comes from rooting for something.
It struck me on the drive home that nothing about the evening was extraordinary. It was just a regular-season high school game. A pinch runner. A close play at the plate.
And yet it felt bigger than it was.
Because showing up for someone else’s child is one of the purest ways we practice being human in a time that can feel isolating and fractured.
It comes from sharing snacks in the stands.
From holding your breath until they make it home.
From caring about an outcome that isn’t ours.
I went to bed Friday night knowing I need more of that in my life—
more reasons to cheer for someone else’s joy,
more moments that pull me out of myself and back into us.
My hand in yours,
Rachel
P.S. Have you noticed any small moments that brought you back to what is steady and good?
I’d love to hear about them.
If your current season is bringing change or uncertainty, and you’d like support as you navigate it, I’d love to invite you into my upcoming Zoom gathering in Rachel’s Treehouse on Tuesday, March 31st at 8pm Eastern.
This month, I’ll be guiding us through something many of us are living right now: how to support the people we love without taking over, fixing, or losing ourselves in the process. This teaching is inspired by my personal experience as a parent of a high school senior who was not on the same timeline as everyone else—and what it required of me to stay present, trust, and let go of outcome.
These monthly supportive gatherings are part of my Treehouse community ($5/month), where we practice this work together in real time, with replays available the next day. There is also a free tier which includes my essays on midlife—the shifts, the letting go, and what it means to dream again. If you’ve been asking, “What now?” this is a space to land, reconnect, and rediscover. Join the community here.
One final exciting note… if you have been waiting for a time to bring Soul Shift into your life—or to share it with someone you love—it is being released in soft cover on April 14th and is now available for pre-order wherever you like to buy your books, including Bookshop and Amazon. If you happen to be a Barnes & Noble Rewards member, use the code PREORDER25 at checkout for 25% off Soul Shift through March 26th.
One of my favorite reviewers had this to say:
“The other day, a teacher friend said he thought we needed a new modern day Mr. Rogers to emerge in our culture. Author Rachel Macy Stafford brings this type of patience and encouragement and hope to her readers. She encourages grown-ups and young ones alike to be real with our feelings and thoughts. She honors our reality while shepherding us along towards a brighter future. Somehow, she does this while not diminishing our pain and struggle. Her work is a gift to our culture. She helps mend the frays in the fabric of our communities and our relationships.” -Jen ht
Lately I have been hearing from many parents whose children are facing unexpected disappointments, changing plans, and uncertain futures.
Watching someone you love navigate that kind of uncertainty can stir a deep ache. The instinct to fix it, to soften it, or somehow make the path smoother than it is can be strong.
A recent essay I shared with my Substack community about this tender part of loving our children sparked an outpouring of heartfelt responses and meaningful conversations between parents and their young adult children.
Because many of you have walked with me through so many seasons of parenting, it felt important to share it here as well, in case these words are something you might need today.
One of the hardest parts of loving our children is learning to stand still when their world falls apart. There is this parental instinct that urges us to rush in and do whatever we can to pick up the pieces.
That is how I felt when my young adult daughter received news that upended the plans she had built for life after college.
As that familiar ache rose in my chest, I desperately wanted relief for her. But instead of offering certainty I couldn’t guarantee, I paused. I relied on something I have learned over the years: sometimes the most loving thing a parent can do is not promise everything will be okay but remind our children they are capable of rebuilding when it isn’t.
Later, when I reached out to ask how she was holding up, I expected to hear the heaviness I was carrying myself. Instead, my daughter’s voice was optimistic.
“I always remind myself that everything in my life that doesn’t go to plan was actually the plan all along,” Natalie said. “The best things in my life were because the original plans didn’t work.”
It was a powerful mindset—one born not from optimism alone, but from lived experience.
As she spoke, I realized I had heard echoes of this wisdom before, not in words, but in moments. Watching her steady herself in the face of disappointment carried me back to a much earlier season of motherhood, when resilience was still being formed and neither of us yet knew what it would one day make possible.
Our family had just moved to a new state, and everything familiar in my daughters’ world had suddenly disappeared—friends, routines, classrooms filled with known faces. Natalie, my older daughter, was eleven, standing at the edge of a life where nothing yet felt certain.
I can vividly recall two moments during that transitional year when I saw her pain and wanted desperately to spare her from it.
The first came when her beloved teacher abruptly left the classroom one day and never returned. For personal reasons, the teacher was unable to say goodbye. I can still hear my daughter’s guttural cries, asking why her teacher left them.
The second unfolded at the final championship of a divisional swim meet. Earlier that day, Natalie missed qualifying for finals in her event by one spot. She was invited back that evening as an alternate. This meant warming up as if she would swim, reporting to the blocks when called, scanning to see if a lane might open.
As a cautious planner with a tendency to worry, I was surprised Natalie wanted to put herself in such an unpredictable situation. But she did. I’ll never forget watching her eyes frantically scan the starting blocks, her hands clasped tightly in hope.
When no lane opened, I saw her shoulders fall. Her eyelids blinked rapidly as she fought back tears.
My child’s inner turmoil was palpable. Just like the day her teacher disappeared, her pain felt like my pain, and it was almost unbearable to witness.
In the car afterward, I told her how proud I was of her courage. I struggled with what to say next. This is what came out:
“Although the result was not what you hoped for, you gained valuable experience that will help you get through the next challenge you face. When something feels familiar, even something painful or disappointing, it becomes a little less frightening.”
I gave Natalie examples, personifying the emotions she was learning to face:
Hey disappointment, I know you. And I know you eventually pass.
Hey frustration, I’ve dealt with you before. You didn’t stop me then, and you won’t stop me now.
Hey obstacle, you tried to stop me, but I made it to the other side. That’s what I am going to do today.
I reminded her that every time she survives disappointment, she is building evidence of her own resilience.
As Natalie sat quietly in the backseat, I drove home wondering if I was cut out for parenting an adolescent. I knew that as she grew, her disappointments would deepen, and her falls would become harder. Standing by during those moments would never get easier.
But I also knew that the qualities I most hoped to nurture in my children—resilience, strength, determination, compassion—are often born from adversity. My role was not to rescue, minimize, or abandon her during struggle, but to listen, support, and believe in her ability to overcome.
The following year, Natalie earned a spot in the divisional finals. When it was time for her event, she asked me to walk with her to the starting blocks. There were no nerves this time. She was smiling… glowing, actually.
“This is what I’ve been working for all year, Mama,” she said. “I’m so happy I’m here.”
As she climbed onto the blocks, I realized that the disappointment from the year before had ignited something within her—determination shaped through effort and belief.
After her race, she walked toward a young swimmer standing poolside with tearful eyes. My daughter leaned in, gently touched her arm, and whispered something to her.
That swimmer was an alternate.
“I remember how it felt,” she told me later. “I wanted her to know she wasn’t alone.”
What Was Taking RootWatching her comfort that young swimmer, I did not realize I was witnessing something that would echo years later. At the time, it simply felt like a small act of kindness born from shared disappointment. But now, listening to my grown daughter speak with calm acceptance about post-college plans that had fallen apart, I could see the through-line clearly. The child who once learned she could survive disappointment had become the young woman who trusted herself to begin again.
In many ways, her experience is not unusual right now. I hear similar stories again and again, young adults standing at the threshold of life while the ground beneath them shifts. Carefully laid plans dissolve. The future feels less like a roadmap and more like open water.
For those of us who love them, their uncertainty unsettles something deep within us too. And as I watch my daughter rebuild from the ground up, I realize something I wish more of us knew: resilience is not something we hand our children; it is something they discover while we stand beside them, resisting the urge to carry what they are capable of lifting themselves.
Perhaps this is especially true right now.
Disappointment in today’s world is no longer an occasional detour; it is becoming part of the landscape of modern adulthood. And perhaps the resilience our children need most is not confidence that life will go according to plan, but the belief that they can rebuild when it doesn’t.
Support does not always look like solutions.
Sometimes it looks like listening without rushing to reassure.
Sometimes it looks like reminding them who they have already proven themselves to be.
And perhaps this is true not only for our children, but for ourselves as well. Many of us are navigating endings we did not choose, plans that changed without permission, and futures that feel less predictable than we once imagined.
We, too, are learning to rebuild.
These days, when I talk with my daughter about what comes next, I notice something different in both of us. I no longer feel the same urgency to help resolve what feels uncertain, and she no longer waits for certainty before moving forward. There are still questions unanswered. But there is trust—trust in her ability to adapt, to reach out, and believe a better plan awaits.
Perhaps this is what our children need most from us in uncertain times, not a guarantee that everything will work out, but a steady presence that reminds them who they are when things don’t.
Because on the other side of disappointment is not just a different opportunity or a revised plan. On the other side is self-trust—the deep knowing that even when the path disappears, we are not lost.
Maybe that is the hope waiting for all of us right now.
Not certainty or perfect outcomes.
But the courage to keep moving forward, even without knowing exactly what comes next.
My hand in yours,
Rachel
For the Road Ahead…
On the drive to her December triathlon, Natalie and I listened to the latest album from Quinn XCII. That’s where she found Yellow Brick Road.
Lately, it’s become the song helping her move forward when things feel unclear.
As the chorus says, “As long as I keep moving, I know that I’ll be alright.”
Maybe it will steady you, too.
Listen here (with lyrics)
Supporting Each Other…
One of the most moving parts of sharing this essay in the Treehouse was the outpouring of support in the comments. Again and again, people reminded one another: we are not alone in this. So many of us are carrying deep love alongside deep uncertainty as we care for the people who matter most.
If you would like a place to feel less alone in what you are holding right now, I invite you to spend a few moments in the discussion section of the essay or add your own voice to the conversation. Your presence in Rachel’s Treehouse is a gift.
If the idea of gathering with like-hearted people this spring for a chance to catch your breath and remember yourself sounds nourishing, I have one in-person gathering in 2026 — and it’s just six weeks away.
The Only Love Today Retreat was created especially for those who spend much of their lives caring for others and are ready to receive care themselves — to rest, reconnect, and rebuild a kinder relationship with their inner world.
Together we practice slowing down, listening inward, and offering ourselves the same compassion we so freely give others. Through storytelling, guided reflection, gentle practices, and supportive community, you will begin creating sustainable rituals of nourishment, rest, movement, and boundary-honoring that can travel home with you.
If this season has asked much of you, perhaps this could be a time to receive some care in return. You can learn more about the retreat here. I would love to see you on April 24!
When my daughter Avery was eight years old, we moved to a new state. Her swim team practiced at a local aquatic center, and every week she asked me to stay and watch.
Her reasoning?
“I need to see you when I come up for air.”
During those practices, I noticed an older gentleman pushing an empty wheelchair through the lobby. Every day at 4:15, he would make his way to the therapy pool to retrieve his beloved companion.
“Hello,” he said to me one afternoon. “I think we’re on the same schedule.”
From then on, we spoke each time we crossed paths.
The man was generous with his stories. And over time, I learned about pain and hardship I have not lived. This man—who was no stranger to loss—did not seem to need advice or sympathy.
He just needed someone to listen.
Our afternoon conversations became so routine that even on days Avery didn’t ask me to stay, the thought of that lonely man was enough to bring me anyway.
If I don’t show up, who will see him when he comes up for air?
It was a small thing. But it was a critical thing.
Lately, I find myself thinking about how many people are moving through the current days holding their breath.
Because knowing you matter is oxygen.
And when it is offered in the most difficult times, it can be lifesaving.
This is something I have been learning again in my own life this winter.
Not in big, dramatic ways.
In small, compassionate ones.
Letting myself cry when I need to cry.
Not forcing myself through what my body is asking me to pause.
Keeping small promises to myself—like stepping outside for a slow walk or sitting somewhere peaceful, long enough for my nervous system to settle.
For most of my life, I didn’t know how to do this.
I knew how to power through.
I knew how to take care of everyone else.
I knew how to stay busy, helpful, and agreeable, even when something inside me was asking me to stop.
But this season has been teaching me something different.
It has been teaching me how to stay human.
To stay with what I’m feeling instead of pushing past it.
To stay with what is tender instead of numbing it.
To stay with what is doable instead of trying to be efficient.
In Rachel’s Treehouse this winter, I’ve been hearing the same tender truth from so many readers.
They are starting this year tired.
Braced.
Overwhelmed.
Scared.
And those feelings are not letting up.
The world is asking the impossible of our nervous systems.
In times like these, we don’t need hard rules or lofty goals.
We need gentle permissions that allow us to come up for air.
Permissions like:
Let your body finish what it’s trying to do.
If you need to cry, cry. If you need to rest, rest. This is not weakness. This is your nervous system doing its honest work.
Remove one unnecessary demand.
Maybe it’s the scale. Maybe it’s one obligation. Maybe it’s lowering the bar on one thing today.
Make one small, compassionate promise you can keep.
A walk. A shower. A cup of tea by a window. Then keep it.
Bring your focus back down to where you can make your own small bit of difference.
When the world feels too big and too broken, return to what is close and reachable. A person you can comfort. A small kindness you can offer. A small corner of the world you can tend.
Sometimes, that is simply noticing who is around us, quietly hoping to be seen.
The man with the empty wheelchair taught me something I didn’t have language for back then.
Presence is not grand.
It is oxygen.
And the only reason I was in that exact place—the place where my life could intersect with his—was because Avery had already taught me the most basic human lesson of all:
When you are somewhere you’ve never been before, the face of love becomes a beacon.
“I need to see you when I come up for air.”
Some would say we are in a place we have never been before.
So, let’s be that for one another.
Let’s be the ones who stay close enough to be seen.
Gentle enough to notice.
Brave enough to keep showing up.
Because someone, somewhere near you, is quietly holding their breath.
And maybe today, without even realizing it,
you are the face they are hoping to see
when they come up for air.
My hand in yours,
Rachel
For those of us who are lifelong givers and nurturers, receiving care can sometimes feel surprisingly uncomfortable. If you’d like a little extra support, I recently recorded a short audio of me reading nine gentle permissions—ones inspired by a red cardinal (named Rudy) who began visiting me when Avery left for college last fall. This Treehouse essay + audio also includes a Take What You Need printable of those permissions, if you’d like a tangible reminder that you, too, are worthy of the same care you so freely offer. Click here to enjoy.
In-person opportunities for coming up for air…
1. I’ll be delivering the keynote address, Tend What Is True for You, at the Hanover College Women’s Brunch in southern Indiana on Saturday, March 14.
This message is being shaped very intentionally for this gathering and for the moment we are living in. It’s centered on helping women feel steadied, seen, and gently reconnected—to themselves and to one another—and on the quiet, powerful truth that healing so often happens in community. There will also be a book signing afterward, and it would truly be my joy to hug you. Click here for details.
2. April 24–26, I’ll be leading Only Love Today: A Restorative Retreat for Those Who Are Often Last on Their Own List at the Kripalu Center in western Massachusetts. This will be my only in-person retreat offering in 2026.
Women who joined me last November in North Carolina left with a renewed sense of self-trust, real restoration, and genuine connection—what one participant called “a miracle in these times.”
Because a minimum number of registrations is required for a Kripalu program to run, I’m also offering a special After-Hours Experience on Saturday night, April 25, exclusively for the first 15 retreat registrants (there are currently four spots remaining). I deeply appreciate the early registrants who already said yes and helped carry this gathering into being.
You can find all the details here, if you’d like to explore.
It was my 22-year-old daughter’s first Vrbo reservation.
With no hotels near the half Ironman site, renting a small house was the norm. She’d booked it months earlier. But as our eight-hour drive was drawing to a close and the access code still hadn’t arrived, it became clear we’d been scammed.
Natalie called customer service. Thankfully, a real human answered. His name was Mohamed.
After trying unsuccessfully to reach the owner, he said gently, “I recommend you cancel the reservation and find a new one.”
“But here’s the problem,” my daughter said, trying to hold it together. “I have a race on Sunday. Thousands of athletes are coming. Everything is sold out.”
“Hold, please,” Mohamed said. “Let me look.”
She leaned toward me and whispered through tears, “I feel like I’ve failed.”
“This is a small blip in the plan,” I told Natalie, with far more conviction than I felt. “You’ve worked too hard to let this derail everything. We’ll figure it out.”
Most places with availability were at least fifty miles away…
except one.
“A small roadside motel appears to have one room available,” Mohamed said. “I can’t make the reservation for you, but I can stay on the phone with you while you call.”
After a pause, he added, “I will not leave you stranded.”
Natalie dialed the number and quickly learned she was speaking to the owner, Frank.
“I know this is a long shot,” she said, hopeful, “but do you have any availability?”
“We just had a cancellation,” Frank replied.
Tears came.
“I’m sorry,” she said, gathering herself. “I’m in the race on Sunday, and my rental just fell through.”
“I’ve been hosting participants for this race for ten years,” Frank shared. “I get it. Come on. I’ve got a place for you.”
That little rustic room wasn’t fancy. But it was close to the race site. It was quiet. It was a place to rest when we were exhausted and far from home.
And it was enough.
The most memorable December weekend unfolded from there.
Natalie crossed the finish line in five hours, nine minutes, strong and smiling. Yes, she trained her heart out—but when we needed help, real people showed up.
This is the energy I’m carrying into 2026.
Mohamed’s kindness.
Frank’s understanding.
My daughter’s perseverance.
A mother’s belief.
May we all be met when we’re far from home.
May we become the ones who stay on the line.
And may we remember how much can change when we refuse to leave one another stranded.
My hand in yours,
Rachel
When I recently shared this story on Substack, something beautiful happened. It took on a life of its own, spreading further than I ever expected, and readers began responding with their own commitments to collective care.
“‘I will not leave you stranded.’ So much depends on our feelings of safety. May we be a safe place and a safe interaction for others in 2026.” L.B.
“‘I will not leave you stranded’ has become my new year’s growth plan. This year will be about finding people who need to be cared for. I’m stocking up my car with snacks and drinks to give out on intersection corners. The list will grow as I grow.” R.F.
“Starting in 2026, I will pledge to myself that I will ‘stay on the line’ for my friends and for strangers.” M.W.
“We know connection and community are what we need, but we’re exhausted and not sure how to create more of it. ‘I will not leave you stranded’ is what I needed to read to help guide me through this time.” K.A.
The man who tried to deceive Natalie did not win.
Kindness did.
(And for those who love small signs of grace: our room number was 143—which means I love you.)
Coming up in Rachel’s Treehouse on Substack this winter… I’ll be sharing guidance and nourishment for transitional seasons of life — parenting from afar, grief, and midlife hormonal changes — and gentle ways of staying human when everything feels tender, hard, and unfamiliar. We’ll be talking about how to be kind to ourselves and each other in an unsteady world.
If you ever feel like joining me there, the ladder is always down – and my essays come straight to your email inbox.
Tomorrow begins the final 21 days of the year.
A small window of time… and yet, I’ve recently witnessed how little it takes for something meaningful to shift inside a human heart. Last month, at my first Only Love Today retreat, 28 women showed me what becomes possible when we gently turn toward ourselves.
I’ve been wanting to tell you about it as we enter these last days of 2025.
I hope you will take these words to heart…
Just as the retreat was about to begin on Friday night, a participant approached me.
She told me that when she saw I was hosting my first Only Love Today retreat, she knew she had to come and tell me her story in person.
A few years ago, a student with complex behavioral needs was transferred into her middle school classroom. Each morning, he’d walk in, put his head on the desk, and fall asleep. And every day, the teacher would lean close and whisper:
“Only love today.”
Every day for six months, she whispered those words.
And then one day, the student saw her at the copy machine. He walked up, wrapped his arms around her, and said,
“Only love today, Mrs. H.”
“He heard me,” she said as tears filled both our eyes. “Those words got through. And I needed you to know.”
As I walked to the front of the room, my nerves fell away. The pressure released. More than the tools I’d prepared, more than the teachings or exercises I’d designed, it would be the messages and the space—loving, safe, human—that would carry these women toward growth and healing.
I knew I could provide that.
Fast-forward to the final hour of the retreat. A participant who’d confided earlier that she wouldn’t be raising her hand because she feared she’d cry, ended up wanting to share.
When she spoke, it was through tears, but with new strength. She said practicing Only Love Today over the years had allowed her to give her kids the kind of nurturing love that helped them thrive. But this weekend was the first time she had finally directed the practice toward herself.
At last, something clicked. Only Love Today was now self-compassion she could receive.
As my eyes filled, I thought: This is everything I hoped would happen here.
I remembered the teacher’s words.
He heard me.
But this time, it was:
She heard me.
The participant heard me when I said:
- This weekend is not about fixing yourself; it’s about remembering yourself.
- You don’t have to stop giving. You simply begin by remembering you are part of the circle of care.
- You are not invisible. Your needs matter too.
“You are not here just to do stuff, just to perform duties and complete tasks. You are here also to feel happy, and content, and inspired and well within yourself. You are here to have some fun, create meaningful moments and find the sparkle in your eyes again. You are here to unravel the magic of being alive, the magic of being you. To heal, to feel whole again. You are worth the effort.” -S.C. Lourie
Over a handful of days spent practicing listening to ourselves and exploring what it feels like to finally receive, something clicked.
Witnessing this profound shift has me thinking about the final stretch of 2025. Research tells us that a new habit can take root in 21 days. What if we choose to use these last days of 2025 to gift ourselves with love, only love?
Perhaps, like Mrs. H’s student, you feel like putting your head down and sleeping your way to the end of the year. I can’t blame you; 2025 has been tough for so many. Or perhaps you’re determined to push through, checking off the boxes and rushing toward the finish line.
But let’s remember: what you are sleeping through or rushing through… that is your very life. And your story is still being written.
Why not make it a story of love?
A story of compassion, of receiving goodness?
A story of the favorite comforts you’ve set aside for too long—
warm baths, early nights, long walks, quiet breaths that belong only to you.
May the remaining days of December become the most nourishing part of a long, trying year.
May you not wish this month away, but let it live… in you.
Perhaps it starts with a tiny gesture, a hand on your own shoulder, a quiet whisper of only love today, a moment of choosing yourself.
Years ago,I learned the power of a small moment like that during a hard December when I was just holding on by a thread.
2010 was one of those let’s-just-get-this-over-with years.
My goal for December 25, 2010, revolved around boxes—checking boxes, wrapping boxes, and stuffing emotions into boxes that I knew would spill out sideways. I could already see myself collapsing on December 26 with nothing meaningful to hold onto because I’d been too busy, too distracted, too hopeless, and too overwhelmed.
A couple of days before Christmas, one small moment changed everything.
My four-year-old daughter Avery asked if she could help fold laundry. With a heavy sigh, I irritably agreed.
Avery went straight for her dad’s boxer shorts. She slid her little legs into the openings, gathered the waistband with one hand, and launched into the most hysterical song-and-dance routine around the living room.
I began to laugh… and laugh… and laugh. I couldn’t stop.
Suddenly Avery stopped. She leaned toward me and said,
“I love that sound.”
I looked around, confused. What sound?And then it hit me: my child loved the sound of her mother’s laugh… a sound she hardly heard anymore.
In that moment of acute awareness, everything trivial fell away. I saw the big picture:
What will my loved ones remember about today?
I wanted it to be my love, my presence, and my laugh.
And here I am, fifteen years later, recognizing the truth:
Avery heard me.
She heard my joy, my exhaustion, my overwhelm—even when I could not hear myself.
And in hearing me, she helped me hear what mattered.
Just as the student heard Mrs. H…
Just as the woman at the retreat heard me…
I, too, once heard what love was trying to tell me through the smallest voice in the room.
Avery heard the joyful, unguarded part of me breaking through.
And in hearing me,
she helped me receive myself with love.
And that, my friends, is the quiet beginning of receiving Only Love Today—
not as a practice we only give away,
but as a form of self-compassion we finally allow ourselves to take in.
What if we end this year by practicing that very thing?
We cannot control much in this world, but we can control the messages we give ourselves.
And when we give love to ourselves—
when we receive it—
it ripples outward.
I hear you.
Thank you for showing up.
Only Love Today.
May the remaining 21 days of December
become the best part of a long, trying year.
May we not wish this month away.
May we let it live and breathe…
in us.
My hand in yours,
Rachel
A possibility for the year ahead…
If you hoped to attend the first Only Love Today retreat but timing or distance made it impossible, I have good news to share. I get to offer it once more, this time at Kripalu, surrounded by the soft unfolding of spring in the Berkshires, April 24–26, 2026.
Perhaps the coming season could be your turning point—the kind of deep restoration, self-trust, and connection so many participants experienced this fall and what one attendee described as “a miracle in these times.” I would be honored to hold that space with you. Click here for all the details.
If you’d like support sooner, this what I’ll be writing about — and teaching live — inside Rachel’s Treehouse, my Substack community, as we close out 2025 and begin 2026. For $5/month, you receive the Dear Rachel guidance column and access to my restorative monthly Zoom gatherings (a special one is happening on Monday afternoon, December 29th), while all other essays remain free and come straight into your email inbox.
Here are the most popular essays from this fall:
The Softest Parts of Ourselves Don’t Need to Be Erased
Be Inconvenienced to Find Belonging in This New Season of Life
How One Simple Affirmation Empowers Me to Name What I Need
Speaking of Rejection: Spread the Word
Dear Rachel: I’m Grieving the Future I Dreamed for My Child. How Can I Find Hope Again?
Dear Rachel: My kids want to revisit my parenting mistakes. Help?
*Never will I forget the women who showed up for themselves, for each other, and for me at the 2025 Only Love Today Retreat in North Carolina. Let’s make more memories this spring in Massachusetts.
I’ve never made a summer bucket list.
Creating a list of things I want to do or places I want to go has always felt like added pressure – and summer is a time of year that I long for less pressure, not more.
What I started doing several years back was collecting ‘sparks of life’ – tiny, unplanned moments where my senses were so filled with joy that I was temporarily free from fear, comparison, angst, and sadness.
Even during the stormiest summers of pain and loss, I could find sparks of life.
Whenever these moments happened, I added them to a numbered list in my phone. This way, I could go back and relive these moments during difficult times.
This summer, I collected 32 sparks. Today I want to share two of them with you. I believe they have the potential to create a warm, steady glow that will sustain you through fall’s trials and transitions.
These are my spark stories…
Spark #3 happened when I texted a friend whose 94-year-old mom began hospice care. I was bringing over some homemade soup and asked there was anything I could pick up along the way.
“It’s a bit of an odd request,” my friend texted back. “But could you go to the local farmers market and get some tomatoes? Mom loves fresh tomatoes more than anything in the world, and they have some that are perfectly ripe! I just spoke to an employee named Amy who will help you pick them out.”
Getting to meet Amy was a spark. So was learning how to tell if a tomato is ripe. But the most notable spark came in a text from my friend a few weeks later.
“Rachel, Mom is holding steady! I can’t believe it! Never underestimate the power of a fresh tomato!”
In my phone notes, I recorded:
Spark #3 – TOMATO JOY
Note to self: Make the odd requests. Ask the brave asks. They add life to our days.
My second spark story came from a toy gifted to my cat, Banjo. When we go out of town, our young neighbor, Emma, comes to our house with her mom to care for him. Unlike her reserved cats at home, Banjo allows Emma to brush him, kiss his head, even rub his belly.
When Emma came across a unique cat toy while on vacation, she asked her mom if she could get it for Banjo. The toy was called Cat Dancer and something amazing happened when I presented it to him.
My senior cat with arthritis (and a bit of extra padding) jumped several feet into the air trying to “catch” the cardboard target that mimicked a flighty moth (an insect he gave up trying to catch five years ago).
Even more amazing was that spirited response happened every single time the toy emerged.
The instant transformation from geriatric cat to playful kitten was a sight to behold, and my daughters and I delighted in it every single day this summer.
In my phone notes, I recorded:
SPARK #12: DANCING CAT
Note to self: You are never too old to stop playing. Find the right toys. They add life to our days.
As I was collecting summer sparks, I was getting heat in my professional life due to sales numbers that were “expected” to be higher at this time.
Nothing like external pressure to squelch the light.
That’s when I knew I’d been holding on to a quote from author James Clear for good reason. In an email newsletter, he’d written:
How should you measure your days?
It's easy to measure your days in dollars earned or tasks completed, but there are other units of measurement to consider:
• What would you do today if you wanted to maximize laughter?
• What would you do today if you wanted to maximize time outside?
• What would you do today if you wanted to maximize peace of mind?
What unit of measurement serves you best right now?
James Clear
I hadn’t been able to answer that question until it became clear what unit of measurement was not serving me this summer, the one being pushed upon me by a marketing team.
This numerical measurement of success was superficial, fleeting, and insatiable. And its presence threatened my sparks of life, a unit of measurement that was helping me:
connect with my young adult daughters…
nourish my body and show up for friends…
be present and grateful…
create some of the best writing of my life.
And just in case I needed confirmation that numbers don’t reflect true success, there was Spark #24 and 30:
SPARK #24: APARTMENT BOOKS
“Today when we were moving Natalie into her very first apartment, I opened the box labeled ‘living room’ to find just five books she brought from home and wanted to display. Two of them were books I had written. Natalie said the words inside help her feel calm and centered when she is anxious and worried.”
SPARK #30: COLLEGE ESSAY
“Avery asked me to read a rough draft of her college application essay. There, in her tiny, distinctively ‘Avery’ handwriting, I saw ‘Noticer’ – a term I used to reframe a negative comment on her kindergarten report card – had become a vital part of her identity. Embracing this positive trait as she navigated years of medical and emotional challenges has inspired her to pursue a career in the medical field.”
In response to these very special sparks, I wrote this Note to Self:
Do not let outside pressure stifle your light. Keep capturing those moments when your senses come alive… where fear, comparison, angst, and sadness cannot thrive. These moments add life to your days… and love to your legacy.
Here’s to an autumn that glows with what matters most.
My hand in yours,
Rachel
My friends, helping people identify and reclaim what lights them up brings me immense joy. This is the essence of my Soul Shift workshop that I will be teaching IN ONE MONTH at the Art of Living Retreat Center in the Blue Ridge Mountains, Oct 4-6. Tuition for the in-person program is $345, and you may choose to stay off site in beautiful Boone, NC if that better suits your budget. This year is a particularly small group, so if you desire a more personal experience with me, please don’t wait to register here. There are other workshops going on at the center that weekend and space is limited.
If the in-person workshop is not feasible, I hold supportive monthly Zoom sessions in Rachel’s Treehouse, a cozy space to read my words and experience community connection. Through monthly Zoom sessions and weekly essays, I share my sparks and my stumbles, the books I am learning from, as well as personal responses to requests I receive for guidance and encouragement. Membership is $3.75 a month – about the same as a cup of coffee – and many tell me the treehouse brings SPARKS to their days.
Here are some of the essays I wrote in Rachel's Treehouse this summer. Access the full archives by joining today.🩵
Since the last time I wrote to you in this space, I’ve been hearing better – and I don’t mean with my ears; I mean with my heart.
I think maybe it’s because…
- I’ve drastically reduced my time on social media.
- There’s an indentation on Scott’s neck from where the tumor was removed, reminding me time is precious.
- Natalie’s college had to shut its doors; not even a 168-year history and outpouring of support could save it.
Or maybe I’m listening to myself better now because…
- I found out I am a Dog Person!
- My “baby” Avery started visiting colleges and can’t wait to go.
- I am tired of rejecting my body, and I want to find out how to nurture her.
- I got my first bird feeder for Mother’s Day, and the first bird finally visited this week!
Truthfully, it’s probably a combination of all those factors that are helping me pay attention to what matters and not miss it.
The revelation that I am a Dog Person (in addition to being a tried-and-true Cat Person) came when I followed a strong nudge on my heart in January. I’d learned that many dogs never see the light of day once they are placed in a shelter, and I couldn’t stop thinking about that. Also, my “nest” will be empty in less than a year when Avery goes to college. I thought having this volunteer role in place could help to offset my sadness.
Come to find out, walking shelter dogs is helping me far sooner than expected. Take Dorothy, a young Goldendoodle, for example. I was warned by the shelter staff she wasn’t a great walker, and it was true. After a fifteen-minute romp around, she just wanted her ears scratched while in a reclined position.
The old me would’ve been frustrated not to “get my steps in” – but that thought came and left quickly. I recognized that Dorothy was listening to her body, and I was all for it.
We sat there for forty-five peaceful minutes with the breeze blowing back our hair. In my gentlest voice reserved for babies and animals, I assured Dorothy she was the best girl and would make someone very happy.
I think about the things I am learning from Dorothy and Peppered – the stout dog who feigned something was wrong with his paw just to get frequent belly rubs. I think about big Zeus and tiny Sissy, who looked back constantly during our walks to make sure I was still there. I know I would’ve missed these experiences to offer and receive love had I not listened to the guidance of my heart.
As I wrapped up a walking session the other day with Betsy the Beagle, I realized I’m going into summer in a way I haven’t before: More Comfortably… more Contently… more Carefree.
Truth is, my relationship with summer has always felt Complicated. A few that really stick out are:
Summer of 1984 – The summer of stretch marks and the beginning of self-scrutiny
Summer of 1992 – The summer of irresponsible risk taking in a misguided pursuit of acceptance
Summer of 2005 – The summer of surgeries and hospital stays resulting from prioritizing productivity over wellness
Summer of 2021 – The summer of deep parental pain from missing clues that would have kept my second-born daughter safe
Summer 2022 and 2023 – The summers of healing and repairing from the aftermath of Summer 2021.
As the first day of Summer 2024 nears, I find myself wondering if I can trust the full breath I am finally taking.
The birds at my bird feeder tell me I can.
The dogs at the shelter tell me YES.
The bell on my bike and the hydrangea bushes planted in Ben's memory tell me it’s time.
The day after school let out for the summer, Avery, who is now seventeen, came to my room and sat on my bed.
She told me that she and her two friends had gone to the park the night before to look at the stars. The friends suggested they go to the open field where there were no lights, so they could see the stars even better.
Seeing that would require walking through a wooded area, my daughter sensed that was a bad idea.
“I heard this voice inside me say NO… don’t do that,” Avery explained. “And, Mom, it was your voice.”Fighting back tears, I hugged my daughter tightly and told her how proud I was of her for keeping herself and her friends safe.
My daughter’s inner knowing had come through for her.
She, too, was learning to listen to the guidance of her heart.
The fact it sounded like my voice was a bonus gift, as well the confirmation I needed to continue choosing a quieter path.
I’ve listened to the loud, demanding world long enough to know it doesn’t know what I need to thrive or where I must go to be fulfilled.
Birdsong, panting tongues, tinkling bells, my very own breath… I hear the guidance clearly now, and I like where they are leading me.
JOIN ME IN THE TREEHOUSE…
The bulleted items at the top of this post are topics I have written about in Rachel’s Treehouse over the past six months. My beloved treehouse is housed on Substack, a quiet space for writers to share meaningful work with their readers without the vitriol, advertising, and controlling algorithms of social media. My essays are delivered via email, and I hold monthly live gatherings on Zoom that members find greatly fulfilling. If you’d like to climb the treehouse ladder and be part of a special community nourishing the roots of what matters most, click here.
Popular posts include:
- Seeing My Body as Good
- Who Gets to Have Closure?
- The Perfect Gift
JOIN ME IN THE MOUNTAINS…
If you are interested in a restorative weekend dedicated to learning how to listen to your inner knowing and live more aligned with your authentic self, please join me October 4-6 at the Art of Living Retreat Center for my final retreat of 2024. For the first time ever, this award-winning center is allowing me to offer a 15% discount to my long-time community members. If you would like that promo code, please reach out to me by June 20. I will be thrilled to hear from you and answer any questions you might have.
Testimonies from past participants:
- “I came to realize that just skirting the surface of the practices Rachel teaches is so incredibly different from taking a break from all the other things in life and spending time really focused on learning and growing.” -C.N.
- “The weekend retreat was magical and just what my soul needed. Movement. Meditation. Healthy food (prepared by someone else). Nature walks.Bonfire with ukulele and singing. Reflection. Inspiration. Amazing views.” -K.W.
- “What have you done to me, friend? My soul has certainly shifted. I am at my drawing table drawing and writing at the same time. I’m dictating into my phone as I create my painting. The dreamer girl in me is so happy, and the wise woman I am is so encouraged.” -A.S
- “Rachel’s Soul Shift retreat changed my life. Even with my crippling shyness and introversion, I was somewhere I felt loved and seen. I still carry that feeling with me and try to pass it on to others when I can.” -E.C.
- “It was the best gift I have ever given myself.” -E.B.
Join me at the Art of Living in the majestic Blue Ridge Mountains Oct 4-6, 2024.
Our Christmas tree was in a new spot this year.
After nearly a decade in the same corner, year after year, an adverse situation caused things to shift.
The recliner my husband needed to recover from surgery now sits where the Christmas tree once did.
Unlike the couch or armchair, the recliner allowed his neck to be in a comfortable position to heal.
Moving the recliner up from the basement (with the help of some strong neighbors) meant the living room had to be reconfigured.
After a sweaty hour of arranging the furniture pieces like a puzzle, I finally found a way for everything to fit: My cozy armchair smack dab next to Scott’s recliner, both sitting in the middle of the room, with the love seat and sofa against opposite walls.
Did it look aesthetically pleasing?
Absolutely not (the baby adults in the house were quick to point that out)
Did the side-by-side chairs match?
No, and not even in a stylish, mismatched, trendy way either.
Did the arrangement allow for a clear passage to the kitchen?
No, but if you turned slightly to the side, you were fine.
Did it have good Feng Shui?
Considering that means “creating good energy in your home”, I’d say YES… because Scott was in the best position for healing, and I was close by (extra close by) if needed.
Best of all, this arrangement tickled us. We’d often look over at each other sitting in our side-by-side chairs like an old couple and laugh at ourselves.
The other night, as were in respective spots admiring the Christmas tree, Scott looked over at me and happily exclaimed: “This is the best move we made all year!”
I know Scott meant this in a literal sense, but I couldn’t help but think about what the side-by-side chairs represented symbolically:
The decision to put things in our life where we wanted them—not in an aesthetically pleasing kind of way but in a heart-pleasing kind of way.Something that helped me make several heart-centered moves throughout this challenging period was a remark Scott made a few days before having surgery on October 13th. Our favorite baseball team had made it into the National League Division Series playoffs and the second game in the first round was happening in our city the next night.
“Do you want to go to the game?” Scott asked hesitantly, knowing he could count on one hand the number of times I did something spontaneous (especially on a “school night”.)
But what he said after that seemed to float like a hopeful balloon in an atmosphere saturated with uncertainty.
“I don’t know if I’ll have another chance.”I decided to grab that balloon and run with it.
Donned in our best Braves apparel, we went to the energized game. For six innings, the Braves were hitless, yet the crowd stayed upbeat and hopeful. When Austin Riley was up to bat in the eighth inning, he hit a home run into the Phillies bullpen, putting the Braves ahead for the first time in the best-of-five series.
Scott happened to capture it on camera.
Above the eruption of the crowd is a voice screaming for joy.
“Is that… Rachel?” confused friends and family said when they listened back.
Yep. It was me.
I was so happy we shifted our Monday night plans to be there in that full-of-life moment surrounded by people not willing to give up on their team.
I couldn’t help but feel grateful for this place – it had been in this very stadium in August that Scott had taken a selfie of us. That photo led him to seek medical attention for the lump in his neck that seemed to stand out in the image. This led to a two-month blur of activity, that led to a 2.5-hour surgery, that led to the recliner being moved up from the basement.
Recovery wasn’t easy; Scott and I spent a lot of time sitting side by side waiting for answers, daring to make future plans. But what I did have certainty around was the decision to make better use of my precious time. I set a goal to cut my social media usage in half and did so quite quickly. This freed up space to make recipes from my childhood, like Irish Lemon Pudding, and research ways to expand my retreats to exciting destinations, like my first camping retreat in California this fall. I partnered with Alice Kajoina to help her fulfill her dream of replacing her dirt floor with tile in her modest Ugandan home.
I also decided to go back to my roots, to the very first place I felt a sense of peace: My treehouse. This time, my treehouse is not a physical refuge; it is a metaphorical one, an online place without the distraction, vitriol, and algorithm issues experienced on social media. After months of building and preparing my treehouse for visitors, it is finally ready for your arrival. You can join me here.
Rachel's Treehouse designed by Milly FrancisAnd through it all, Scott and I would have our nightly chair time, looking over at each other and laughing even when we didn’t know how things would turn out.
When our neighbor offered to help move the recliner back downstairs, we told him thanks, but it’s never going back downstairs.
That’s what perspective does.It turns mismatched chairs, sitting in an odd formation, into balancing energy for weary hearts.
It squelches the notion that things must stay the same because that’s the way they’ve always been done.
It clears away things of false importance so what really matters gets the attention it deserves.
The best move we made was accepting help to carry that heavy recliner upstairs.The best move we made was allowing uncertainty a little space, but not letting it take up the whole room.The best move we made was paying attention to emotional and mental health when physical health was the more obvious area of concern.The best move we made was replacing “I should have done this sooner” to “Let’s focus on what we can do now.”My friends, as 2023 ends and 2024 begins, perhaps it is worth looking around and asking, “Is this arrangement working for me?”
Just because something has been put in the same place year after year doesn’t mean it has to stay there – especially if it’s taking up space for what really matters in life.
Is there a move your heart’s been telling you to make?Take it in 2024.
You’ll never regret the decision to put things where you want them to be. The good energy created by heart-centered moves are truly unmatched.
As mentioned in the post, I will be shifting my time, energy, and creative work away from social media to one that feels healthier, less restrictive, and more authentic to me. In addition, I will no longer be writing here on my Hands Free Mama blog, so I can focus exclusively on building my community at RACHEL’S TREEHOUSE. I invite you to my new sanctuary hosted by Substack, a thriving hub for readers to enjoy the musings of their favorite writers without the distraction of social media. I have been following several of my favorite authors for over a year and can say without a doubt that this is the right move for me.
The mission of this new space I’ve created is to have a direct connection to people who want to reclaim their sense of wonder, curiosity, peace, presence, and joy. Rachel’s Treehouse prioritizes human connection, and it simply wouldn’t be the same without you. You can join me by clicking here. Thank you for your continued support and belief in my life's work.
P.S. The California destination retreat opened for booking on Wednesday! Three of the eight early-bird discounted spots are still available! Click here to read all about this once-in-a-lifetime adventure!
For Thanksgiving dinner 2022, I made conversation cards to use during our sit-down meal.
Some might find that strange or unnecessary, but when a family goes through a traumatic event, the aftereffects can make holiday rituals, including dinner conversation, difficult.
Never had an old Tupperware dish filled with scraps of paper held so much value. Based on my family’s response to the first question I pulled out of the bowl, I sensed my homemade cards would successfully fill awkward silences and steer us away from tender topics.
Those conversation cards were a game changer that day – not just because they created an inclusive and welcoming dinner environment – but also because they helped us remember what we cherished about each other. They also helped us learn things we didn’t know after a year of growth.
This Thanksgiving, my family didn’t need cards to make conversation, but we had some. I was gifted with two sets of thoughtful, entertaining, and beautifully made conversation cards. My friend, Jessica, created these cards through her small business, Lumitory.
Although a great deal of healing has happened over the past year for my family, the cards brought an extra spark of life to the table, not to mention a great deal of laughter too. I noticed that long after the plates were emptied, people stayed at the table.
“Just one more question,” my daughters kept saying. It was one of the best experiences we shared as a family this year.
When I tried to describe to a friend what made these particular cards so impactful, I couldn’t find the words. Luckily, the owner of the printing company that printed the cards did. Chris told Jessica that he doesn’t normally read all the materials he is printing, but he took time to read every single one of the cards.
“This is what the world needs more of,” Chris told Jessica. “We need more opportunities to connect and build community.”
This is what the world needs more of.I thought about my friend Alice Kajoina who recently filled a large order of BEADS OF STRENGTH bracelet sets for my online community. Since meeting meeting Alice on a Learning Trip to Rwanda with African Road in 2018, she and have corresponded weekly, sharing the ups and downs of life.
In the fall, Alice shared that her son was getting married in January, and she would be expected to host the family introductions in her modest home. Alice expressed concern about the condition of her floor, which is currently made of dirt. Around the same time, Scott had presented several employees with a stack of Alice’s bracelets at a special recognition event. Hearing the remarkable story of the woman who made the bracelets touched the recipients deeply. Alice and I wondered if my online community would be interested in buying sets of bracelets to fund the installation of a tile floor in her home.
Sure enough, the orders came quickly—so quickly that I worried Alice couldn’t fill them all.
“Don’t worry,” Alice said. “I have many helpers.”
Alice was referring to the Brave Girls, a group she started in 2019. She’d noticed other women in her community struggling to make ends meet, so Alice took it upon herself to teach them to sew and make handcrafts so they could market their wares and earn income. The purpose of their gatherings goes far beyond creating product; it’s about creating hope through community.
As Alice and the Brave Girls worked to fill this recent large order, I received heartwarming updates:
• “Five ladies, two young girls, and myself worked hard till late evening, and it was such a good time as we shared stories. It has been long since we worked on beads together!”
• “I took to Sam, an expert in cutting paper, for accuracy so the size of the beads are all the same.”
• “I put the bracelets into stacks. Resty and Catherine select bracelets that go well together to ease the work.”
• “Brave Girls are happy they get to earn from bracelets. It boosts them so much.”
• “Don't worry, Rachel; we are all enjoying the work and our time together!”
This is what the world needs more of.I sat down the other day and went through the results of the travel survey in which I invited you to participate last month. My hope is to expand my retreats and gatherings to places my online community has asked me to visit, like the West Coast and possibly some international locations. On the survey, there was a space where respondents could type in their WHY. As I read through the responses, tears filled my eyes:
- I’d love to feel I am in a safe space to be truly me with my thoughts and hopes to move forward.
- I'd love to spend time with Rachel and make new friends.
- I would like to develop personally so I can return what I’ve learned by coming along side others and supporting them.
- Travel with great community, friendships and fun
- Make connections, share struggles and joys, support
- Soul filling experience with one of my greatest teachers and like-minded community of travelers
- A fresh perspective on life, hope for the future, encouragement and understanding from other big feeling people
- Experience bonding with women and see new sights in the US and the world
- Shared time. Community.
Over and over, the same words kept coming up on the survey:
Connection
Community
Connection
Community
This is what the world needs – wants – more of.My friends, living in a fractured society with complex atrocities, conflicting viewpoints, too much information, and too little wisdom creates deep disconnection. It would be so easy to pull back from each other… to stop trusting… to stop reaching… to stop believing in the power of community…. and yet, I am reminded by Alice, this online community, and my very own family that human connection is critical to healing and thriving.
“Our babies will eventually enroll in Brave Girls,” Alice once told me, and that beautiful vision has stuck with me.
Seldom do we, as human beings, ever feel ready or equipped for the heartaches and challenges will we face, which is is why we must never stop connecting with each other, even when words don’t come easy.
One more question… one more story… one more invitation…
This is what the world needs more of.
My friends, the results of the survey revealed California in the fall was the overwhelming top pick for our first destination retreat! In September, I am thrilled to be leading a small group (overseen by a professional guide) through Yosemite, Sequoia, and Big Sur. You can read all about the trip by clicking here and sign up to be notified when registration opens for early bird pricing on December 27. Because of the nature of the trip, (participatory camping), the group number is small, but if there is enough interest, I hope this is the beginning of more connective trips together.
Please remember a small group is also gathering in the beautiful Berkshires in April at Kripalu to experience true, authentic, soul-building connection through my Soul Shift workshop. Here is feedback from two recent participants:
“Dear Rachel, when I left the retreat, something had changed. I didn't trust it, but weeks later, I'm still existing in the world differently. The key that you handed me was a way to be nicer to myself. I cannot describe what a weight was lifted off through the reframing exercise you taught us.”
And this:
“Dear Rachel, the other morning I found myself feeling joyful. With the #SoulShift music playing, I began dancing. For five whole minutes, I twirled myself around the kitchen. There have been countless moments over the past 15 years that I have wondered if I was enough for any given situation or social moment. That five minutes marked a new beginning of truly seeing myself differently and LOVING ME. I can feel the soul shift you described at the retreat happening.”
Click here to register for Kripalu. Space is limited so please don't wait if you would like to come.
Last but not least, if you are interested in purchasing Jessica’s beautiful conversation cards, please use the special link she provided for our community. Use the code CONNECTION15 at checkout for a 15% discount. Orders received by December 17 will arrive by December 25.
Thank you for all your support and love, dear ones. My hand in yours.
“Dreams don't have timelines, deadlines, and aren't always in straight lines.”― Jason ReynoldsI never know which question I pose at my Soul Shift retreat will be The One –
the one that sparks someone to voice a vulnerable truth, which then sparks more sharing, which then culminates to an anthem of brave voices and ideas.
At my most recent retreat, the question was: “If money were no object, what would you do with your life?”
One person raised her hand, sharing details so vivid we could all imagine this community center she yearned to build.
“I’d be the first to come,” someone volunteered, which was echoed by a chorus of agreement.
The brave contributor admitted that she’d forgotten about this dream… until now… until this room… until these people.
Spurred by her contribution, more people described their dreams, along with the obstacles, damaging beliefs, naysayers, and circumstances that had halted those dreams.
“Maybe it’s not too late,” a hopeful participant said into the microphone as teary-eyed witnesses nodded.
It wasn’t planned – more like divinely arranged – that my “dream companion” (Kelly) signed up for the retreat, traveling a long distance to be there.
I’d met Kelly virtually when she emailed me early on in my career as a writer. As an avid reader of my blog, she sensed that as my platform grew, so did my feelings of overwhelm. Kelly had editing skills that were going unused in her regular job and offered them to me.
After working together on a few small projects, I realized Kelly was the reason I could finally say yes to committing to a major writing endeavor that had weighed on my heart for several years.
Through what I called my “Index Card Exercise” during classroom visits, I’d gained valuable insight into the stressors facing teens. The kids themselves explained why suffering and apathy often resulted from the inability to know themselves, be themselves, and follow their passions.
Although I desperately wanted to share my discoveries, the research and editing required for this type of book seemed unsurmountable… until Kelly.
With Kelly’s support, the dream did just feel possible, it was possible. Live Love Now: Relieve the Pressure and Find Real Connection with Our Kids was published in April 2020, which marked the beginning of one of the most challenging periods in our lifetime. As I received messages of gratitude from weary parents, educators, and counselors using the book to support teens over the past few years, I always gave thanks for Kelly.
The retreat provided the opportunity to thank her in person.
During the last fifteen minutes of the workshop, I called Kelly up to the front of the room so I could properly introduce her to the group.
Kelly had been a quiet participant throughout the retreat; I often found myself drawn to her thoughtful, listening face. As she stood in front of the room, something shifted. Although Kelly did not know I was going to call her up, she stepped into her purpose, addressing the participants on a painful topic that had come up throughout the weekend for several of them.
Kelly was further along on that life-altering journey and had words of encouragement that only someone who’d been there could offer.
As Kelly returned to her seat, the excitement and energy in the room was palpable. People who did not know each other two days prior were now eager to accompany each other as they discovered (and rediscovered) the callings of their heart.
I was in awe…
What is it about uprooting ourselves from familiar territory that makes space for possibility?What is it about feeling heard and held that makes hidden dreams safer to surface?What is it about overcoming one obstacle that makes the others appear smaller?What is it about envisioning someone else’s dream that makes us see our own?****
In the days following the retreat, I couldn’t stop thinking about the vivid dreams that had been shared. Although I hadn’t voiced mine, I began wondering if it could be part of the anthem that members of this group now carried inside us.
I went to my kitchen junk drawer and pulled out a piece of paper I’d stuffed in there a few weeks back.
A reputable travel company had reached out to inquire if I would be interested in hosting my Soul Shift retreats in amazing locations across North America and beyond.
After a promising meeting with one of the representatives, I’d written down some of the destinations that looked captivating to me: Yosemite, Yellowstone, Colorado Rockies, Riviera Maya, Baja California Sur, Sante Fe and Taos, Bryce Canyon, British Columbia.
I was told that if there was enough interest from my online community through a short travel survey, my first destination retreat could be planned for 2024.
I went to the website and looked at some of the retreats and excursions planned and who was hosting them.
I saw descriptors like yoga instructor, professional photographer, foodie, outdoor adventurer, hiking guru… and more.
Hmmm… I though skeptically… who would want to go on an adventure with The Directionally Challenged Traveler?
That is when I’d shoved the paper in the drawer.
But in pulling it out again after the retreat and meeting Kelly, something clicked. In my research on supporting teens on their path to purpose for Live Love Now, I’d been drawn to the work of Patrick Cook-Deegan, founder of Project Wayfinder. His organization partners with educators to design innovative learning experiences outside the classroom walls that guide students to navigate life with purpose.
“Young people don’t usually develop a specific purpose and then go become an expert in that thing,” Cook-Deegan explains. “Rather, they are exposed to something new that helps them develop their own sense of purpose. In short, experiences lead to developing purpose, not the other way around.” (source)Patrick’s reasoning explains why experiences that introduce young people to new ways of seeing the world (and themselves) are so valuable. Whether it’s a trip to a new place, spending time in the natural world, or working on something important to them in their community, experiences beyond one’s comfort zone can be hugely transformative.
Suddenly, it hit me! When writing that section of Live Love Now, I remember thinking, I wish there was a Project Wayfinder for adults!
Maybe this travel opportunity was it – and if I left it shoved in a drawer, I’d never know!
I quickly emailed the travel representative to see if I could still share the survey with my community.
“It’s not too late,” was the glorious response.I shared the survey last week, and while the enthusiastic responses are still coming in, it appears that many members of our beloved community have been waiting for the opportunity to leave their comfort zones and explore new territories… BUT with the comfort of a trusted companion.
It appears that a “professional travel guide” is not needed for such an experience as much as a host who has learned to trust the guidance of her soul.
That’s me!
And perhaps in my willingness to step out in courage, you will step out with me… and together, we shall offer the fresh air long-lost dreams need to become an anthem of hope.
I can see us now, lifting our voices in and around canyons, campfires, and mountaintops.
It's not too late.
If you haven’t done so already, I’d love your input on the two-minute travel survey! This will help me in knowing what destinations, itineraries, and budget ranges are most suitable for our group.
And if you don’t want to wait to gather in good company to connect, recharge, heal, and grow, please consider registering for my Soul Shift retreat happening April 19-21 at the beautiful Kripalu Center in the Berkshire Mountains. Because of the size of the meeting room, there are only 30 spots for this retreat, so please don’t hesitate to register if you are interested.
You can also register for my return visit to the Art of Living in Boone, NC, happening October 4-6, 2024. This will be my fourth time there and it is always the highlight of my year.
If you have ANY inkling to join me for either retreat, let’s do whatever we can to make it happen! Feel free to reach out to me with any questions and apprehensions.
My hand in yours
*All photos in this post taken by the amazing Amy Paulson during our time at the Soul Shift Retreat at the Art of Living Retreat Center
Our hydrangea bush that was dormant for three years decided to produce one bloom this fall.
It started out as a potted plant that was gifted to us in honor of Scott’s father, Ben, who passed away shortly after a cancer diagnosis. My family planted it in the fertile soil next to our house in the Spring of 2017.
For two consecutive springs, the shrub grew and bloomed – and then it didn’t. I wondered what I’d did wrong.
This was not a huge leap for me to take. The hydrangea bush and my wrongdoing had always been strongly associated.
I’d made a terrible mistake on March 17, 2017, when I decided not to cancel my professional obligations in Canada for the release of my book, Only Love Today. I’d convinced myself that Ben, who was on hospice, would be there when I got back, and he’d want me to honor my commitment to this book he’d proudly gifted his nurses.
While riding in a Canadian taxi, I got news of his passing from my husband, Scott. A sick feeling overcame me; I’d chosen wrong… horribly wrong.
How could you have chosen work over family? I silently screamed at myself. What were you thinking?
I felt a level of shame I’d never known.
Of all the hurtful mistakes I’ve made in my life, this is the one I have forced myself to carry. Refusing to let go of this has resulted in living in toxic regret; each time I am reminded of that life event, I get sucked into a spiral of shame and disappointment.
At the same time the decaying hydrangea bush showed unexpected signs of life, our family got troubling news. On August 31, 2023, we were presented with a concerning diagnosis that would require medical tests and appointments throughout the month of September. As the appointments (and angst) piled up quickly, I noticed a common exchange between my loved one and me:
Loved one: “You don’t have to go with me to my appointment. I know you’re busy.”
Me: “I’d like to come and keep you company, even if I just wait in the waiting room.”
Loved one (relieved): “Ok. Thank you for coming with me.”
At an appointment on September 22nd, we were told surgery was needed and would happen on a Friday in October; hospital scheduling would determine which Friday and notify us by phone. I had a whole weekend to think about the possibility that my loved one’s surgery date would be Friday, October 27, the day my annual retreat in North Carolina was scheduled to begin.
At first, I panicked… the what ifs came in abundance… but then I heard a calm, steady voice of assurance from within.
“If surgery is scheduled for October 27, you will know what to do,” spoke my inner knowing.
It was true. I knew I would break my contract. I would cancel the retreat. I would pay the consequences. I would disappoint the lovely participants and retreat center staff.
It would feel gut-wrenchingly hard to make that choice, but it would feel whole-heartedly right.
That’s the thing about acknowledging regret – as much as it hurts, moving through it allows us to see past mistakes as stepping stones to the person we hope to be.****
I was with my family member when the surgery scheduler called.
“How about Friday, October 13th?” asked the scheduler over speaker phone.
I nodded enthusiastically as the date was confirmed. It was sooner than we ever could’ve hoped, and there would be no conflict with my prior commitment.
As relieved as I was by the outcome, I couldn’t help but think about the poor choice I’d made in 2017. Guilt and shame began picking up momentum. The question that plagued me for six years was again front and center: How could I have made that choice?
I recognized that moment as a potential turning point; I could get lost in the loop of shame or I could try to pull myself out, once and for all.Using a self-compassion tool from Soul Shift, I closed my eyes and envisioned 2017 Rachel. She wanted so desperately to be worthy of love and admiration, and she thought she had to earn it by doing “great things” – like meeting the expectations of her publisher and having a “successful” book release. It wasn’t until she sat in the back of that taxi and heard Scott’s heartbroken voice, that Rachel realized she was ALREADY worthy – her presence priceless – to the people who mattered most.
If I could, I’d hug my past self and encourage her by saying, “I know you feel badly about this – but because of what happened, I know myself better. I know how important it is for me to show up for the people I love. The poor choice you made helps make hard decisions easier now because I know what I value most.”
As the October 13th surgery date drew near, I found myself visiting the one-bloom hydrangea bush a lot. Although its lavender-blue color had faded since this photo was taken, it was still a wondrous sight.
No longer did I scratch my head wondering why bloom now? And why just one flower?
Self-forgiveness is a mighty hard thing. I think Ben knew it would be for me.
“Forgive yourself, Rach,” I could hear him say, extending a swatch of blue flowers to make sure I didn’t miss the message.
With both hands, I’ve chosen to uproot my toxic regret to make space for the blooms of today.
I am worthy… and so, my friend, are you. Using this Forgiveness Letter Template from my book, Soul Shift, let this moment be a turning point.
Dear Precious Self,
I know it’s been difficult to forgive you for… _____________________________________________________________________
But looking back at the situation with compassion and curiosity, I see that at the time you were… _____________________________________________________________________
I’ve noticed that you are trying to do things differently now by… _____________________________________________________________________
With this understanding, I commend you for using this painful past experience as a stepping stone to become….
_____________________________________________________________________
Precious self, release the burden you’ve carried so long. Today matters more than yesterday; who you are becoming matters more than who you once were.
____________________________________________
Your name
My friends, I am relieved and grateful my loved one is recovering well from surgery and my annual Soul Shift retreat is happening as planned on October 27. The group converging on the NC mountain top is the smallest one to date. In the past, I would have wondered if I had failed at promoting the event well. Now, I trust that things are exactly as they should be for this moment in time. Those attending have indicated a common need to restore their nervous systems so they can better support their families and effectively manage life’s challenges. Broken nervous systems do not heal a broken world, therefore, we will be focusing creating harmony within, so the ripples we make can positively impact our collective future. If you feel a pull to be part of this small, intimate group gathering on Oct 27, please know there is room for you. You can register here or reach out to me personally if you have questions.A UNIQUE INVITATION….
The challenges of parenting a teen in today’s world can feel overwhelming, yet finding reliable guidance in this area is just as difficult. For this reason, I am honored to participate in the “Parenting Teens in Uncertain Times Virtual Summit” that begins November 1. Michael Danzansky, a dedicated parent and mindfulness expert, has assembled a dream team of more than 30 world-class speakers and teachers who are eager to share the three KEY things they believe all parents need to know as they support teens in today’s complex world. This summit is carefully curated to ensure you receive the most up-to-date and practical advice, all from the comfort of your home at times that are convenient for you to tune in. Best of all? It's FREE! Please register now so you don’t miss out on this rare and valuable opportunity.
I love being with my niece Kate. It’s not just about her being a joy to be around – it’s also about what happens to ME when I am around HER. When I am with Kate, I give myself a rare permission to be free. Free from rulesFree from expectationsFree from pressure to be productive […]
Exactly one year ago, I came across a greeting card that struck me in a way no card ever has. There was no text, just a colorful, hand-drawn sketch of a square house with a chimney. The house was nestled on a hilltop that could be reached by a long, winding drive. A hot-air balloon […]
About the time my older daughter returned home from her year away at college, a Mourning Dove moved in. Well, actually it was two, a male and female, but it took me seeing them together in the nest to figure that out. The pair built their nest on top of a pillar underneath my front […]
Six weeks from the launch of my new book, I found myself in the emergency room with severe pain in my neck and shoulder.
I was diagnosed with a herniated disc and began treatment, but what I couldn’t get out of my mind was something I’d read when a friend suggested I look into the spiritual meaning of shoulder pain.
“When we are under stress, many of us unconsciously hunch and twist in towards ourselves. Imagine someone was throwing a dodgeball at you—how would you protect yourself? You’d turn away from the impact, contracting your abdomen and curling around yourself. Instinctually, most of us do this by showing the metaphorical dodgeball our right shoulder blade—if there’s an impact, it won’t hit the heart.” (source)**
Those words instantly transported me back to my middle school gymnasium — the musty smell, the squeaky floor, the big vat of balls just waiting to become projectiles.
I hated dodgeball.For some reason, I was an easy target and my classmates always seemed to throw the ball harder than necessary. I felt the sting of impact before the ball even touched me.
“You’re out!!!” the aggressor would yell at me.
I don’t know what hurt worse – the bruise on my skin or the one on my heart.
Suddenly, it made sense why this spiritual explanation of shoulder pain – to protect the heart – resonated so deeply.
Every time I’ve launched a book into the world, my fear of rejection caused me to overwork and overcompensate. When I agreed to write Soul Shift, I promised myself I’d protect ME as I ventured into this depleting territory. I’d done well for many months, but as the launch date drew near, I was slipping into old habits. My body was giving me a warning sign, and I chose to heed it.
Five weeks out from the book release, I stepped back.I did not follow-up.
I did not re-record.
I did not pull all-nighters.
I did not skip meals.
I did not post until I could not post no more.
Little by little, I released control, trusting my book would land into the hands that needed it.Two days after Soul Shift released, I brought a signed copy to my doctor.
After we hugged and got a photo together, she checked my upper shoulder.
“Wow,” she said with a look of genuine surprise. “This is not where I expected you’d be.”
I’m pretty sure she thought I’d be immobile on floor of the gymnasium.Honestly, I did too.
But I’ve learned the importance of listening to my body in order to protect myself. Sometimes that requires turning inward, but sometimes protection requires turning outward.
I’m talking about human connection.
The worst possible place for me to be when presented with the standard measurement of success in the publishing industry (i.e., initial sales numbers) is alone.
In fact, what I experienced inside my body in the aftermath of Live Love Now (which launched in the COVID-19 Shutdown of Spring 2020) was so concerning that I sought professional help.
To avoid a similar experience with Soul Shift, I planned a few in-person book signing events in cities I’ve lived and worked.
“You don’t need to do those events,” a trusted person in my inner circle said. “That’s just extra work for you, with very little return.”
I recognized that statement as their opinion, not my truth. This person had no idea what it was like to write a book and then work tirelessly to garner pre-orders and early reviews. But because I did, I knew I must advocate for myself.
“I know you are trying to protect me,” I stated, “But I know what I am going to need at that point: to look into the faces of those being touched by my book.”
The first of these in-person events is tomorrow night. Last weekend, I bought five tickets to give away on social media. I explained that I understood the fear of going outside one’s comfort zone to attend such an event. But because doing so often results in true a sense of belonging, I wanted to give away a few tickets.
Within minutes, I heard from several beautiful souls who’d felt the nudge to attend, but fear had stopped them.
“Your post was my sign,” one person said. “I’d love to have one of your tickets.”I ended up buying five more tickets and now have a piece of paper with ten names. I can’t help but feel excited about what’s to come given we will all be there because we listened to our hearts.
Sometimes protecting our heart means turning inward, but sometimes it means opening our chest toward the healing power of connection.My friends, if today finds you weary from life hitting you like a dodgeball, will you take a moment and ask yourself two very important questions?
- Have you been pushing yourself despite the warning signs your body’s been giving you?
- What is one small thing you can do today to honor your body and make it feel safe and nurtured?
If we were in middle school, I’d suggest we ditch the dodgeball game and go get a long drink at the water fountain.
There, I’d whisper, “Don’t forget to protect yourself,” as I placed my hand upon your back.
Sometimes protecting our hearts looks like connecting our hearts.
You are not alone.
My hand in yours,
Rachel
There are still a few tickets left for the Power of Friends event in Indianapolis on 4/13. Please join me! I will also be signing books and chatting with people on Saturday (4/15) in Indy, Saturday (4/22) in Homewood, Alabama, and Sunday 4/23 in Woodstock, Georgia. Please be sure to register for the event in Alabama because the Little Professor book shop is providing refreshments. In late October, I will be returning to the beautiful Art of Living Retreat Center in Boone, North Carolina to lead my Soul Shift workshop. Find all the details here.
My friends, I simply cannot express what it’s meant to hear from those who are reading Soul Shift. Angela gave me permission to share her private message in hopes it might bring more people to experience the healing power of Soul Shift:
“Good morning. I am currently reading your latest book and felt compelled to message you. I have read over 50 self-help books and regularly listen to all the major podcasts; I am a certified mindfulness teacher and life coach, and I run a mindfulness group here on Facebook with over 4000 members. Your book has made such an impact on me and is helping to me to change my life – maybe more so than any other. The style in which you write, the stories you share, and the questions you ask are all truly inspiring. The fact that you decided to share your very difficult journey is amazing, and I want to acknowledge your courage and authenticity.”
As always, I am grateful for every purchase and every book review, which indicates to my publisher you’d like my work to continue. There are over 100 five-stars reviews on Amazon and for that I am deeply grateful!
Grab your copy today at your favorite place to buy books: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Bookshop, Indiebound, or get a signed copy with Premiere Collectibles.
“Don’t forget to check on your strong friends!”
We hear that statement quite often, but I have learned we need take it a step further, or perhaps I should say, nearer.
“Don’t forget to check on your strong children.”While my family experienced a crisis stemming from an event that directly impacted my younger daughter, it impacted every member of our family.
Crisis has a way of contaminating every life attached to it.
And although I desperately tried to make sure my kids felt supported through it, the child with the indirect hit – the strong one – suffered too.
I didn’t know to what extent until almost two years after the peak of the crisis. Over the December holiday, it became evident how deeply my older daughter had been affected.
Part of what made the distinction so clear was that while she’d gone off to college, the three of us that remained had continued to face our healing in day-to-day interactions and practices.
A few days into my older daughter's holiday break, it was clear there was a lot of unresolved pain, and it needed to be expressed.
It happened by accident as our family cleaned up after dinner one night. A tense exchange between the two siblings indicated strong emotions bubbled beneath the surface. Through my Soul Shift journey, I have learned that moments when big feelings surface are not ones to fear, avoid, or shut down. Actually, it’s quite the opposite; those moments need space, time, and presence to be explored and processed.
Standing in the kitchen for almost 90 minutes, the pain came out. Specific memories and details came from the perspective of the strong one – the child who began pressuring herself to be “perfect” because the family couldn’t bear anymore pain. What an incredibly difficult way to have to navigate the final year of high school, a time when teenagers are supposed to be celebrating and having fun.
For nearly two hours, the emotionally reserved one was given the space and permission to not be strong – to be fully human in order to be heard… seen… validated… understood.
As difficult as it was to hear of the struggle she endured, I knew blaming myself or someone else had no place in that discussion. Through my Soul Shift work, I’ve learned that healthy families see crisis as a family-centered problem and work together to correct the problem and address the pain.
I was incredibly proud of my daughter for allowing herself to be emotionally vulnerable, and I was proud of the other members for giving her the space and acceptance to do so.
Throughout the holiday break and the weeks and months that followed, I often wondered:
Will our family ever be whole again? When fear urged me to control, fix, or catastrophize, I practiced Letting Go of Perfection, one of the most transformative practices of my Soul Shift journey. I have learned that that by accepting what is, we are able to use our energy to move through the challenge and begin healing.
I knew I had two choices. I could hold on to the way things were (though I knew resisting the flow of life only made me unhappy) or I could accept things for the way they were, which I knew was conducive to growth.
I chose the latter.
I strived to see a hopeful future, without denying reality.I strived to mourn the loss without living in it.When my older daughter chose to come home for spring break rather than travel with friends, I felt encouraged. Part of the reason she made this decision was because she’d baked something special to celebrate my past four book releases. Natalie said she wanted to keep up that tradition for Book 5, Soul Shift.
Early on in her break, she asked me to go dress shopping. Being alone, just the two of us, offered me a chance to see how she was doing. As we talked, I noticed a peace about her that I hadn’t seen during the holidays. That felt encouraging.
During our time at the mall, I noticed the Sundance store. That was the jewelry company I’d ordered my special heart necklace a year and a half ago after finishing a grueling audio series as our family’s world imploded.
Scott had taken the broken necklace I’d hoped to wear for my Soul Shift book release to several jewelers. In light of the challenge the repair was turning out to be, he’d wondered out loud if the actual store might still carry it, even if the necklace had been discontinued on the site.
Feeling hopeful, I went inside the store and showed the salesperson the broken necklace I happened to have in my purse.
“Oh yes… I remember that one. Very popular,” she smiled. “But I’m afraid we don’t have any left.”
I looked through the glass case for a suitable replacement. I didn’t like the other heart options, but I was drawn to a simple gold necklace with four oblong links. After trying it on, I decided to purchase it.
As I was checking out, the salesperson suddenly had an idea.
“If we can find the product number of the heart necklace, we can run a search through the other Sundance stores,” she said excitedly. The associate next to her suggested I check my email order confirmation to find the number.
Within five minutes, we’d found one of the few remaining necklaces at a store in Connecticut!
“Will you be putting this one back?” the salesperson said, holding up the necklace with the four links.
“No,” I responded, feeling certain it was for me, although I wasn’t sure why.
A few days later, I asked my daughters if we could get a picture of the three of us and the new book to add to my collection. Natalie had invited friends to join us for dinner, so she suggested we all get ready and do it before they arrived.
After I got dressed, I looked for Avery.
Her bedroom door was open, but there was no sign of her.
That’s when I heard voices; the two of them were in Natalie’s room talking as Avery curled her sister’s hair.
To most people, this would seem like nothing…. but to me, it was the faintest sound of hope.
Two human beings, irreparably changed by trauma, trying to form a new bond by getting to know who they are now.That is when I reached up to touch my neck, and I finally understood.
Cradling the heart necklace that had just arrived from Connecticut was the chain of four gold links.
One link did not hold more weight than any of the others; the weight was eventually distributed as each piece connected to the others, making a beautiful whole.
It sure felt like a hopeful foundation for the next chapter of our strong family narrative.
My hand in yours,
Rachel
Dear community, my new book, Soul Shift, has been out in the world for just 4 days and already the response, both publicly and privately, is beyond my wildest dreams. I have shared a few of the responses below, but I encourage you to check out reviews on Amazon and Goodreads to see for yourself why you might need this book in your life right now. First week sales close tomorrow at midnight. This means your chance to make the biggest impact as a supporter of my work is today and tomorrow. If you have been considering purchasing Soul Shift (or thinking about getting a copy for a friend), I would be grateful if you were to do that today. Here’s what you might expect:
“This book is what I've been waiting for years. Its gentle guidance helps me discover who I truly want to be without guilt, shame or pressure. On every page is another quote or idea that touches me to my soul. The book truly lives up to its title – I can feel the shift happening.”“Rachel, I am 58 years old and the first chapter of your book has already changed my habits. Your words reached me at just the right time, and I am hopeful I will now be able to make lasting changes to live the rest of my life with joy at the center. Thank you.”
“I could quote the book and tell you what it did for me, but that isn't what this book is about. It is about the individual. Each weary human that picks it up will be graced with a unique experience that meets them right where they are. I don't know where you are in your journey toward joy, but I am absolutely confident this book will inspire, enrich, and encourage your path no matter who you are or what past you come from.”
You can purchase the book on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Bookshop, Indiebound, or get a signed copy with Premiere Collectibles.
Don’t forget, I will be coming to Indiana, Alabama, and Georgia for a few in-person events. The only one that requires tickets is the very special event in downtown Indy called, “The Power of Friends,” happening in just two weeks on the evening of April 13! Please don’t delay if you want tickets. I appreciate your support so much.
Take my hand and join me on the healing journey of Soul Shift!
I have been waiting for this momentous day for so long.
Soul Shift is finally out in the world!
Over the past few months, I’ve shared a lot of personal details about the writing process—the personal challenges I faced, the aspects of the book I fought for, and how it turned out differently (and better!) than I ever expected.
But… I haven’t told you why I wrote it.
The reason can be summed up in three words:
Humans are weary.I kept hearing it in the voices and in the stories of those with whom I interacted online and in person, both in my professional life and in my personal life.
Between the demands of work and parenting, endless distractions, and constant breaking news, we feel caught in a loop of drudgery and despair. What I kept hearing over and over again was:
“I am desperate to find some joy and inner peace in the everyday.”
When we feel like we’re barely surviving in a world brimming over with suffering and discord, does the idea of finding joy seem impossible? Maybe even selfish?
I believe cultivating joy is not just possible – but vital for humans to thrive – especially during such times as these. Joy is a process. Soul Shift is a book, and an experience to help you find it.
Each page offers an encouraging step through a botanical garden with me as your companion, happy to travel alongside you at your own pace. No judgement. No shame. Just compassion, curiosity, and love.
If you’re ready to take a journey that elicits profound mindset changes and behavior shifts powered by your very own soul, please take my take my outstretched hand…
You are here. I am here. And together, there is hope.
SPECIAL NOTE: As a subscriber of my blog, you may remember when I started saying, “my hand in yours,” to comments left by readers who were hurting. I chose that because I believe there is great power in feeling seen, heard, and validated in times of struggle. I find it amazing that not only did the term stick, but it also became an integral part of my new book. This morning at 5:45am, I realized I didn’t have a picture of me extending my hand with Soul Shift, so Scott agreed to take it as soon as the sun came up. I think he did a good job!
I know a few of you missed getting the pre-order bonus gift, so I asked my publisher to leave the window open for one more day, so you could get your Self-Compassion Starter Kit at no cost. I have broken the process down in 3 easy steps:
STEP ONE: Buy the Soul Shift book. You can buy it from your favorite retailer in any format you like (hard copy, ebook, or audio). On my book page, you will find retailer links like Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Bookshop, Indiebooks, and Premiere Collectibles (signed copy).
STEP TWO: Take the receipt number from your purchase and enter it in the ‘claim your bonus form’ on the Soul Shift book page.
STEP THREE: Enjoy instant access to the Self-Compassion audio soundtrack & hand-lettered affirmation poster! You will also get a link in your inbox if you want to download them and save them forever or share them with a loved one. Today is the absolute final day to get this gift with your order of Soul Shift.
A huge, huge thank you to everyone who is supporting my work through a purchase of Soul Shift. Believe me when I say your purchase makes a difference to me and my family.
Don’t forget to join me tonight (3/28) at 7pm Eastern on my Facebook page for the LIVE book signing & celebration with 2 of my dearest friends! Today is the FINAL day to get these free gifts with the purchase of Soul Shift in any format!
For most of my life, I’ve struggled to ask for what I need.
Actually, I didn’t even know what I needed because: 1) I spent the majority time thinking about what other people needed, and 2) the thought of listening to my feelings felt scary.
But here’s what happens when you constantly give and give and dismiss your needs…
Anger and resentment become frequent visitors, often overstaying their welcome so there is no room for joy.I can’t count the number of times I quietly simmered, thinking, ‘Why didn’t anyone know how much I needed them to show up for me?’
Well, that sure didn’t get me anywhere… just farther from joy.
Once I realized spending time with anger and resentment wasn’t how I wanted to spend my life, I began paying attention to when they showed up. I realized those feelings were trying to tell me something important.
Motivated to understand these emotions better led to the Practice of Presence (self-listening) which led to the Practice of True Worth (self-love). That’s when a noticeable difference took place inside me and around me. Less anger and resentment, more compassion and connection.
Learning to sit with uncomfortable feelings and express them in appropriate ways brought me to places I never thought I’d be — like being able to write this note to my husband, Scott, a few weeks back.
Sitting next to his personal copy of Soul Shift was the note with a heart necklace taped to it.
It read:
“If there is one thing I’d most like to have to celebrate my book launch, it would be to get this necklace fixed. I bought it for myself after completing a hard endeavor two years ago and didn’t take it off until it broke. I tried to replace it, but the company doesn’t carry it anymore.”I didn’t say the necklace also represents the living map that is now in the back of my new book.
Nor did I say I bought matching necklaces for my beloved Soul Shift retreat companions, Carrie and Amy.
But those things are true and explain why it’s so special.
A few days later, Scott came to me with the necklace in a little clear bag. He said the jewelry repairperson said it was “gold-plated” and wasn’t worth his time to fix.
I held my breath, resisting old urges to dismiss my needs by saying, ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s too much of a hassle.'
Instead, I waited… and Scott said, “I have another place I want to try tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” I said excitedly to him… and also to myself.
When you finally know you are worth the hassle, effort, and inconvenience it takes to thrive as your fully human self, that is cause for celebration.Jan 7, 2014
Sept 8, 2015
March 7, 2017
April 28, 2020
Those dates are my book birthdays.
They are among the most important dates of my life.
I regret that I spent most of them with anger and resentment because I never told anyone how important those days were – not even myself.
But I am human… and I am learning how to love myself better… and that is helping my people love me better too.
March 28, 2023
Soul Shift’s book birthday is coming…
And to celebrate, there just may be a gold-plated heart necklace suspended from my neck—the kind you can’t put a price on.
Friends, cultivating the Practice of Presence and True Self-Worth are the beginning chapters of SOUL SHIFT: The Weary Human’s Guide to Getting Unstuck and Reclaiming Your Path to Joy. There is only ONE DAY LEFT to pre-order the book and claim your free “Self-Compassion Starter Kit”. If you want to claim your bonus gift right now, I’ve put all the retailers in one handy place – everything from independent bookstores to large retailers to signed copies. Just click here and scroll down until you see the green box with all the retailer logos.
VIRTUAL LIVE SIGNING – Please join me on Tuesday evening, March 28, at 7pm Eastern on my Hands Free Revolution Facebook page for the book launch party! I will be joined by two of my closest friends for a fun evening of storytelling in my basement!
IN-PERSON SIGNINGS – I have in-person book signing events scheduled in Indiana (one on April 13 and one on April 15), Georgia, and Alabama for #SoulShift. Be sure to check out the schedule in the image below.
Lastly, registration is now open for my Soul Shift Retreat of 2023 scheduled for October 27-29 at the Art of Living Retreat Center in the majestic mountains of North Carolina.
Thank you for your love and support.
Only one day left to pre-order Soul Shift & claim your bonus gifts! Click here to do it now.
I’ve been chosen as a confidant to two friends on opposite sides of the country, both going through devastating circumstances.
A complete upheaval of life as they knew it
A total obliteration of the future they once saw for themselves
In one situation, the source of the pain is physical. In the other, it is emotional. But in both cases, the lines between physical and emotional pain blur, impacting the whole of their being, despite where the pain originated.
And the worst part? They have to keep the pain of what’s happening to themselves… at least for now.
I know what it's like to go through something devastating that you can’t talk about.
And I know the one or two people who are chosen as confidants have been chosen with great care and trust.
The fact that I’ve been chosen by these two friends is one I do not take lightly.
When my friends describe what they are going through, I don’t pretend to know how they feel. Nobody but them understands what their situation feels like, so I listen and let them tell me what it’s like.
The importance of listening cannot be understated. Listening allows a hurting person to process their feelings… to remember important facts that stress may have caused them to forget… to uncover answers inside themselves they didn’t know were there.
Listening to my friends process their experiences allows me to point out the protective, wise, healing things they are doing that they don’t even realize.
I find myself saying things like:
- You were so smart to prepare by __________________.
- When you decided to continue participating in that activity you love, you prioritized your needs. What a loving act of self-care.
- What strikes me as I listen to you is your capableness AND your ability to know when to ask for help.
- When you cope with the unexpected by ___________, you are providing a beautiful example for your kids.
- Did you notice how you are allowing yourself to feel what you feel without judgement or shame?
- You listened to yourself and held that boundary! That is huge!
I hadn’t really thought about why these types of responses felt both connective and helpful until I saw a video of author Brian Fretwell sharing a powerful exchange he witnessed.
Brian’s work in brain science leads him to bring people together to study the impact certain questions have on human connection.
In the video, Brian describes how a group member had just finished telling everyone about a horrible situation they were going through, and nobody knew what to say.
“After we asked, how are you doing and do you need any help, we all got quiet… until somebody leaned in and said, ‘In all of this that you are going through, what are you the proudest of doing?’”
Brian describes how the person began to recognize specific things she had done in the midst of the challenge. She became emotional, adding that it was the most helpful question she’d ever been asked.
Brian sums up the impact of the question by saying:
“Recognizing what she’d already done, made it easier to think about what she still had to do.”After watching the video, I couldn’t stop thinking about The Question. For one, it solidified the approach I was taking to support my friends. But also, I could see how that question could lift someone out of a spiral of self-sabotage.
During an emotional struggle, we are more susceptible to negative thoughts and damaging internal messages taking hold.
I vividly remember the night our family crisis came to a head, and I grasped full understanding of how dire the situation was. Suddenly, the voice of my inner bully was louder than it had been in years.
This is your fault. How could you let this happen? You failed to protect her.
Although I’d become quite capable at identifying my self-sabotaging thoughts and shifting to them to impartial and compassionate statements, in this situation, I knew I’d need help.
“Is this my fault?” I cried to my wise and empathetic friend, Shannon.
“Rachel, you do not have superpowers; you couldn’t have possibly seen this coming,” Shannon assured. “But once you suspected something wasn’t right, you listened to that feeling and acted. Rachel, you are here now, and your child knows you are not going anywhere. That is what matters.”It was through Shannon’s words that I recognized I had done something right – and listening to my gut instinct was something I needed to keep doing.
Through the months that followed, Shannon continued to be my chosen confidant. Talking to her allowed me to process information and gain clarity on difficult decisions. Shannon consistently reminded me to leave space, both in my healing process and in my book-writing process, an endeavor I was under contract to complete during this turbulent time.
Last week, a box of the finished product arrived on my doorstep.
“I think it’s your new book!” Scott said excitedly, setting the heavy cardboard box on the dining room table.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” he asked, as I stood there staring at it.
“I am not ready,” I stated, not exactly sure why, but trusting I’d know in time.
Over the next couple of days, I wondered. Would it hurt to open the book? Would it feel like reliving the pain?
On the fourth day, Avery and I were home alone when I knew it was time.
Avery gladly helped me open the box. She marveled at the book cover, the exquisite sketches inside, and the living map in the back of the book.
After taking some pictures, she went to do homework, leaving me with my book and the cat who never left my side while I wrote it.
Nestled between Banjo and couch pillows, I spent time with every page of the book. It was almost as if I was reading it for the very first time.
The specific ways I’d loved
listened
honored
and protected myself
were all there, speaking to me as if a friend was there beside me, pointing out my strengths.
“Look what we did,” I said to Banjo tearfully.
The shrewd look he gave me seemed to say, “Be for real, lady. You did all the work.”
Then ever so quietly, I heard myself speak.
“I’m proud of me.”
And then, even louder,
“I’m proud of me.”Those words felt foreign to my lips; I don’t think I’d ever actually said them to myself.
That is when I thought of The Question:
In all of this that you have been through, what are you the proudest of doing?The question was now mine to answer.
“I never gave up on her,” I said to myself without hesitation.That is what my mom repeatedly pointed out to me throughout the crisis.
But while holding my finished book in my hands, I knew I wasn’t just referring my child; I was also referring to my inner Dreamer Girl. Since I was eight years old, my Dreamer knew there was a book inside me for weary humans questioning their ability to find their joy and inner peace.
And in time, they will fill the pages of Soul Shift with the most meaningful answers – the ones that comes from within.
Friends, we are just over ONE WEEK away from the release of SOUL SHIFT*: The Weary Human's Guide to Getting Unstuck & Reclaiming Your Path to Joy. My beloved launch team has encouraged me to stress how important pre-orders are to helping our favorite authors and their books succeed. It also ensures you’ll get your copy if the book goes out of stock, which tends to happen in the first week if pre-orders are low. To thank you, I’ve created a beautiful pre-order bonus gift called the Self-Compassion Starter Kit, which helps you learn to identify self-sabotaging statements so you can shift to messages of self-compassion. I wrote and narrated the soothing audio series for you, which comes with a gorgeous affirmation poster worthy of framing. There is just one week left to claim this bonus gift. Simply pre-order the book (in any format) from your favorite retailer and enter the receipt number in the form on this page. A list of retailers (domestic and international) can also be found there. Currently, there are still some signed copies left.***
BOOK TOUR NEWS
It would be my greatest joy to celebrate SOUL SHIFT’S entry into the world with you. Here’s what has been planned so far:
3/28 Virtual Book Launch Party – This will be held on The Hands Free Revolution Facebook page at 7pm Eastern. Those who order a signed copy from Premiere Collectibles can submit a question for Rachel to answer that night and will be entered in the drawing to receive one of Rachel's handmade care packages! Click here to pre-order your signed copy.
INDIANA
4/13 The Power of a Friend In-Person Event at Maven Space in Indianapolis, Indiana from 6 to 8pm. Includes a meet & greet. Click here for tickets.
4/15 Book Signing at the Shops at River Crossing in Indianapolis, IN from 2 to 4pm. Click here for information.
ALABAMA
4/22 Book Signing at the Little Professor in Homewood, AL from 3:30 to 5:30pm. Click here for information (coming soon).
GEORGIA
4/23 Book Signing at Fox Tale Bookshop in Woodstock, GA from 2 to 4pm. Click here for information.
Thank you for all the love, encouragement, & support. I couldn't do this without you.
My hand in yours.
“I'm terrified that I might never have met me.”
-Noah Kahan, Growing SidewaysI am a music lover. One of my favorite things to do is introduce people to my favorite (and lesser-known) singer-songwriters.
Years ago, this practice brought a member of my online community to the rich voice, crushing lyrics, and acoustic brilliance of Noah Kahan.
In the fall, I received a message from this member asking if I was still a fan.
“Yes,” I replied, thinking ‘fan’ was a huge understatement, especially considering I attended Noah's concert the very night before.
I suspected the messenger might be surprised when I told him this, but I was the one who got the surprise.
“Then you saw my son! He’s part of the band.”
When I got over my shock, I realized I didn’t need to ask which member his son was.
Throughout the concert, my friend, Maggie, and I were mesmerized by an unbelievably talented young musician. We’d nicknamed him “Baby Noah” when we learned he shared the same name as the famous lead singer.
The father explained that when this incredible opportunity to join Noah’s tour arose for his son (who had just started college), he felt inexplicable peace because he was already familiar with the artist.
“Because of you, I knew him,” the father wrote.
When I said I hoped to see his son in concert again, I wasn’t expecting it to be so soon. Scott and I went on a road trip a few weeks ago to see ‘the Noahs’ in concert.
Amazingly, the father made a much longer trek to attend the concert with a friend who’d known Baby Noah since he was an actual baby!
Unbeknownst to the musician’s dad, I got to see his face as he watched his child perform on stage.
I knew that look—a beaming pride that spills from the eyes. As a parent, you hope and pray to see your child doing something they love, reaching their dreams, and touching lives with their gift.
Watching this father watch his son share his musical talents with the world made me cry.
Inspired… yes
Hopeful… yes
Happy… yes
But also…
Heartache
There was pain, too.
It wasn’t that I’d hoped to see my own musically gifted child up on stage one day, but never did I imagine her music would come to such an abrupt stop.
From age three to fourteen, Avery’s music filled the house… and then, in the aftermath of a traumatic event, it didn’t.
Trauma can take so much, toppling even the strongest tree with the deepest roots that you never expected to see come down.
This gaping hole, where music once lived in our lives, shook me.
Grief therapist, Jenni Brennan, helped me understand why the impact has been so devastating. In her online workshop, I learned her two-part definition of grief:
- One's reaction to a loss – not just emotional but also involves physical, behavioral, thoughts, social, and spiritual components
- Occurs anytime we lose something to which we are attached
Having a term for what I was experiencing has helped me immensely these past few months, and I thought I’d started accepting this loss. But as I cried through the concert, I was reminded that grief is tricky. It can sneak up on you at the most unsuspecting moments, reminding you that you still have stuff you need to work through.
For the rest of the concert, I thought about the dilemma parents often face—
How do we let go of a dream we had for our child?
How do we sit by and watch an extraordinary talent go unused?
How do we accept things have permanently changed and are never going back to the way they were?
After the concert, Noah’s dad invited us to approach the stage with him and meet his son.
After chatting with the delightful Noah Levine, I stood back and watched the genuine way this extraordinary musician connected with his fans.
Many of them appeared to be around the same age and wanted to express how he inspired them.
One set of friends returned a guitar pick they’d found on the floor, boasting their musical knowledge by talking about its thickness.
Most fans just stood there awkwardly, unable to find words for the talent they had just witnessed.
Through it all, Baby Noah smiled, nodded, leaned in, and listened. The look on his face made a clear and powerful statement:
I accept you.Chills covered my body as I realized his expression was nearly identical to the one his father wore just minutes before as he watched his child shine.
As we were walking out of the venue, the father turned to thank me.
“Soul Shift saved my life,” he said, taking me by surprise. “And that is not a figure of speech; it literally saved my life.”
He went on to explain the impact of taking my Soul Shift course in 2019.
“I can pinpoint that exact thing as being the turning point for me. And once I cracked open, and I started exploring and looking at myself honestly, I can never go back to how I was before. Fearful, closed, angry. Things are still a struggle, of course. I’m human. But I have much more stability and desire to lean into my authentic self, and I don’t ever want to cover that up again.”
For what seemed like the 30th time that night, I became emotional. But this time, I cried with gratitude for the way healing truths we’ve forgotten come back to us if we are open to feeling our pain.
And the healing truth was this:
He is human.
I am human.
Our children are human.
And we are learning,
growing,
grieving,
forgiving,
forging new paths
and reclaiming our joy.
Showing up bravely, boldly, flawed, and full of hope as our most authentic selves – this is the goal. To live by the guidance of our heart, not by the expectations of others, is what us brings joy, peace, and fulfillment.
When Avery told me to stop asking about playing guitar, she was asking me to honor who she is, how she feels, and what she needs to heal at this moment in time.
And when she excitedly tells me about the students that she works with in the special education classroom and the books she’s reading on medical careers, a lyric from a song on Noah Kahan’s new album plays in my head.
“I’ve got dreams again.“The musician, who I was drawn to in 2018 because he sang about mental health struggles and surviving dark periods, has dreams again.
What a miracle that is.
My child has dreams again, too.I must not let the magnitude of that statement be overshadowed by the grief of what was.
By adjusting my expectations and supporting her new dreams, passions, and interests, I am nurturing the roots of her authentic self.
What flourishes won’t look or sound the way it did before, but that doesn’t mean it can’t still become her beautiful anthem, in time.
My friends, in exactly one month, Soul Shift: The Weary Human’s Guide to Getting Unstuck & Reclaiming Your Path to Joy, comes into the world! If you’d like to be a part of my beloved launch team that helps me usher it into the world, please click here. If you would like to prepare for the Soul Shift journey, click here to get your Self-Compassion Starter Kit, free with the pre-order of Soul Shift.
Early readers are experiencing the positive impact of Soul Shift as described by Noah’s father in the post. Here is feedback I recently received:
“I’m telling you, this book has helped me more than any therapy session I've been in, and I haven't finished it yet. Can't wait to get a physical copy in my hands to highlight and share some of these practices with my teenage daughter.”
“I got shivers reading just the first few pages! I felt seen and loved and comforted. I love the idea of building a community and lifting each other. Whenever I read Rachel’s words I feel like we’d be best friends. I am constantly on a journey to become my best self, and I can already tell this book will help me along that path.”
Click here to access retailer links and get your free starter kit. A lack of pre-orders can severely hinder a book’s success, so if you are planning to buy it, I’d be grateful if you did it sooner than later.
Click here to get your free kit with the pre-order of Soul Shift
I don’t know why it bothered me so much, but it did.
I was devastated to learn the period – the most popular punctuation symbol known to humankind – is becoming obsolete.
According to the disturbing article, the rise of instant messaging has made it “unnecessary” to use a period to mark the end of a thought or statement.
Life is just becoming one long run sentence…
Yep, that sounds about right.
Life is just a steady stream of information, pauses optional…
Yes, I feel that – and it concerns me.
One of my most vivid childhood memories involves reading aloud for the first time in my new fourth grade classroom. After proudly completing my section, the teacher said I didn’t pause long enough for the periods.
“When you see a period, take a breath,” Ms. Murray instructed. “Otherwise, it all runs together and doesn’t make sense.”
Feeling both embarrassed and enlightened, the lesson stuck with me indefinitely. Recently, while narrating the audio version of my new book and the pre-order bonus gift, I was especially mindful of periods – not just the ones at the end of sentences, but also the ones that appeared during the recordings.
In both sessions, the production team had at least one young man. While they were adjusting sound levels and overseeing the process, they were listening to the content.
“I am really intrigued by what you said about inner voice,” one of them said as we reconvened after lunch. “I think the technique you shared is really going to help me be less self-critical.”
While taking a short break during the recording of my pre-order bonus gift, the sound engineer shared something similar about his struggle with self-doubt.
“Do you mind if I keep this?” he said, pointing to the script I’d given him to follow along. “I’d like to give this a try at home.”
In both instances, we spent a good ten minutes talking about worthiness. Keep in mind, these discussions didn’t happen after the recordings wrapped up – they happened in the midst of them.
In terms of our productivity, those were not ideal times to have deep conversations – but in terms of our humanity, they were perfect. I couldn't help but notice the comforting shift in the atmosphere of the room after the sound engineers had a chance to openly share their struggles.
It was just a period, but it made all the difference. A few years back, I befriended an elderly cashier during a meaningful checkout counter exchange at my local grocery store. She is retired now, and serious health issues have left her face permanently disfigured. For months, I’d drop off baked goods, flowers, and cards at her front door, respecting her wish to wait until her scars healed to have a personal visit.
The last time I dropped by, she opened the door a crack.
“Can you come visit with me, darling?” my friend said.
When she opened the door so I could come inside, I saw that her head was wrapped in bandages where part of her face had been removed.
“Look at me,” she said, starting to cry.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, reaching for her hand.
My friend pulled me towards a small sitting area next to the front window. Judging by the worn blanket covering one of the chairs and the photos propped up beside it, this was her homebase.
I listened as she described the ordeal she’d been through and the dismal prognosis.
“But you are here,” she exclaimed, wrapping her small, weathered hands around mine.
The photo of her younger self was prominently displayed next to her chair, causing me to wonder what internal messages she was giving to herself these days.
“Do you remember how we met?” I blurted out. “On one of my hardest days, you came around the checkout counter and hugged me. And at one time or another, you did for all your customers,” I reminded her. “Your heart is one of the most beautiful hearts of anyone I know.”
“Oh darling,” she laughed, creating an unmistakable twinkle in her eye. “I can’t tell you what this means to me!”
It was just a period, but it made all the difference. My 16-year-old daughter was getting ready for school the other day, and I checked in with her through the closed bedroom door. Her voice was stressed, and she was having trouble finding something she felt comfortable in.
“What can I do to help?” was met with “nothing,” so I told her I’d be downstairs if she thought of anything I could do.
When she came down fifteen minutes later looking defeated, I asked if I could give her a hug.
She nodded, and once in my embrace, she stood there for several minutes just holding on.
I held her until the tears eased.
She exhaled. Fully exhaled. And then she explained what was bothering her.
It was just a period, but it made all the difference. On my recent birthday, my friend and literary agent, Sandra, sent me a ladybug sun catcher. In my new book, the ladybug holds special meaning, and Sandra wanted me to have a visual reminder of that significance.
Instead of placing it in my window, I hung it on my car rearview mirror. When the sun is shining, I stay parked for a moment and give the strand of beads a gentle nudge. When it catches the light, my body is bathed in a hundred little golden dots. I name three things I am grateful for and somehow always feel better when I start the car.
It is just a period but it makes all the difference—a break in the frenzy of our ever-turning world
an acknowledgment of our human need to connect our dots
a pushback in the glorification of burnout and breath holding
I am not a fan of football, but I happened to be watching the Bengals play the Bills when Damar Hamlin collapsed on the field. I watched in awe as the game stopped, the world stopped, to send him blessings and well wishes. It was the first time in NFL history that a game started, was postponed, and never resumed.
And the more I think about it now, I think maybe that article is wrong; maybe the period is not becoming obsolete—not if we keep fighting for the pauses that honor our humanity.
Opportunities to breathe are here, right under our noses, in our kitchens, in our conversations, in our bodies, in our pastimes.
There are opportunities right here, right now, to put punctuation back into our everyday lives. “When you see a period, take a breath,” my teacher once said. “Otherwise, everything runs together and doesn’t make sense.”
There is a reason I have not forgotten this lesson. I believe it was planted all those years ago to bloom at a time such as this.
It is just a period – but it can make all the difference in the world.
My friends, I am delighted to share the audio version of Soul Shift that made such an impression on the sound engineer is now available wherever you buy your audio books, including Audible. Also, the pre-order bonus gift that the production assistant took home with him is also available as part of the Self-Compassion Starter Kit. This kit is FREE with the pre-order of Soul Shift and includes an 8’’ X 10’’ hand-lettered affirmation poster custom designed by JZ Lettering and a 20-piece collection of soundtracks to Practice Being Kind to Yourself, written and narrated by me.
Simply go to the Soul Shift book page and input your name and receipt number in the form. If you have not yet had a chance to pre-order, you will find a list of retailers there – everything from independent bookstores to large retailers to signed copies!
Friends, the reason I poured so much time, heart, and energy into creating this bonus gift is because those who pre-order my books are my people, and YOU make all the difference.
My hand in yours.
Click here to get your kit today!
The red hat I wore during my last retreat of 2022 got a lot of compliments.
People noted how the hat “suited me” and said I wore it well.
I really wanted to explain that it was much more than a fabulous accessory, but I didn’t have the words then.
I do now, and I’ve written them down in hopes they will feel like support to someone reading them today.
About the hat…The last time anyone wore it was 2016. Avery wore to her third-grade classroom as part of a book character project.
I wrote her name in black Sharpie on the inside tag of the hat in case it got lost.
This photo of her wearing the hat is among the hundreds, if not thousands, of photos that have been difficult for me to look at for a while.
See the joy?
This child was joy personified.
Because of the way she saw the world, this pure, radiant joy radiated from Avery. Taking a piece of gum to a friend, getting extra recess time, finding a heart-shaped rock, learning a new guitar chord – the smallest pleasures made her smile reach all the way to her eyes.
Of all my child’s characteristics, the one I most wanted to protect was this uninhibited joy.
You can imagine, then, what it felt like to see this beauty she embodied punctured like a balloon, losing air so fast and so uncontrollably that it shriveled before my very eyes.
That was 2021, a year of devastation for many kids and teenagers who carried wounds from the year before that never had a chance to heal.
I soon learned first-hand what I’d written about in my fourth book:
In today’s world, a teen’s poor decision can come at great costs with traumatic aftermaths.rejection
isolation
intimidation
torment
pain
Perhaps the only thing worse than the world turning against you in adolescence is turning against yourself.
Watching the downward spiral of someone you love is pretty awful too.On one of the lowest, darkest nights, I remember staring numbly at the ceiling fan in my bedroom, pleading, “I can’t do this… it hurts too much.”
After the flood of tears released, I heard a voice inside me so sure and so strong.
“But you’ve been preparing for this. There is no one more suited to accompany this child through her pain.”Learning to sit with my own painful truths, instead of pushing them away, has been a vital practice in my life over the past five years. This process has helped me overcome long held, damaging beliefs around my worthiness. I’ve learned to replace self-sabotaging thoughts with self-compassionate soundtracks and daily habits.
Yet, none of the soul-shifting work I’ve done on myself felt like preparation for what was ahead—but it did give me a foundation on which to begin and build.
Hour by hour, day by day, month by month, I was present through her pain. I listened to hard-to-hear details and things I didn’t understand. I asked awkward questions and was clear and direct with limits. I looked beneath behavior to see the painful root. And every chance I got, I reminded my child of her inherent worth and her ability to overcome hard things.
This past November, it was a last-minute decision to grab the red hat – collecting dust in the bottom of my closet – to my North Carolina retreat.
On the day I wore it, my daughter sent me a text saying she was worried about a friendship issue, and could I call her so we could talk it through.
About twenty minutes later, I was able to call.
To my surprise, she told me what she’d said to the insecure part of herself and how that helped her see a way of handling the situation while keeping her self-respect intact.
That moment was the first time I fully breathed in over eighteen months. Instead of self-sabotage, which had been the default response during the downward spiral, she accessed self-compassion. Being able to make this shift on her own felt monumental and gave me great hope, yet I wasn’t sure why.
Watching the fascinating documentary Jonah Hill made about his therapist, Phil Stutz, helped me put the pieces together.
In one segment, Jonah reveals Dr. Stutz's introduction of the concept of a “shadow,” or the version of yourself you most want to hide from the world. This therapy tool had helped Jonah realize he hadn't fully shaken his self-loathing from years' past.
For Jonah, his shadow was his 14-year-old self.
“Despite your attempts to rid this part of you, you can’t. It will always be there,” Dr. Stutz says to Jonah.“Talk to your shadow. Ask him how he feels about how you’ve dealt with him. See what he says.”
As Jonah visualizes his 14-year-old self, he says, “You’ve denied my existence and been ashamed of me.”
“The shadow needs your attention, not from the world, but from you,” Dr. Stutz explains. “Ask the shadow, what can I do to make up for not paying attention to you?”
“Include him in my life, celebrate him and share my life with him… not only acknowledge he exists, but that he’s a beautiful part of me.”As I watched that exchange between Jonah and Phil, tears streamed down my face.
I finally understood.
When I embraced all of my child – even the parts she was most ashamed of – I was nurturing her shadow.
When I reframed her self-critical statements into an impartial view of her situation, I was nurturing her shadow.
When I expressed curiosity and compassion for her uncomfortable emotions and insecurities, I was nurturing her shadow.
Being my child’s companion through her suffering often felt like feeling my way through a pitch-dark corridor; I couldn’t see where I was going or what was coming next, but there was stability upon the wall on which I kept my hand:
Never rejection
Always connection
I knew this was the path to healing because I have learned to offer compassion and acceptance for the parts of myself I am most ashamed of.
I have learned my most uncomfortable feelings have value and need attention.
I have learned I am not the mistakes I’ve made nor am I responsible for bad things that happen to the people I love.
The reason I couldn’t look at photos of my joy-filled child from her earlier years was because I blamed myself for failing to protect her light.
But continuing to blame and shame myself only leads to self-destructive behaviors and hinders healing—which is where the red hat comes in.
It wasn’t until I stood in front of the mirror of my retreat room that I knew why I’d grabbed the hat that symbolized so much of what was lost.
In my mind’s eye, I could see young Avery’s wide smile—back when she believed the world was mostly good, friends could be trusted, and skinned knees were the worst kind of pain.
She sees the world differently now, and it took me time to accept that.
But it’s time to recognize the triumph in her story that will serve her well for the rest of her life:
She didn't lose herself.And with one hand on the wall and the red hat upon my head, I rejoice as I take another step forward.
My hand in yours.
My friends, I didn’t think I could write a book during such a devastating time, but in so many ways, this process was exactly what I needed to keep from losing myself. The garden journey I designed to walk beside my readers was created on my basement ping pong table using construction paper, sticky notes, and the most self-compassion I’ve ever known while writing a book. Through it all, I felt the hand of my 8-year-old Dreamer who has been trying to tell me for decades that what we know about ourselves as kids is something worth remembering as adults. Soul Shift is the book in which we, weary humans, get unstuck and reclaim our path to joy—and we do it together.
As I have mentioned, preorders are VITAL to the success of a book, so if you plan on buying it, I kindly ask that you purchase before the March 28 release. ‘Soul Shift' is currently 25% today only at B&N (click here and use the promo code PREORDER25). You may also order from your favorite independent bookstore, Amazon, or get a signed copy from Premiere Collectables. International friends can preorder from Amazon Canada, Amazon UK or Booktopia. Please be sure to keep your receipt for the pre-order bonus gift that will soon be ready for you!
In honor of the upcoming book release, I’ve been a guest on several podcasts where the hosts and I shared meaningful conversations around themes in the book. They are free to listen to, and I've listed the links below.
For those who need ample time to plan, I am thrilled to be leading another Soul Shift retreat in the majestic mountains of NC Oct. 27-29, and registration is now open.
Thank you always reaching back when I extend my hand. The way your support kept me going over the past two years is immeasurable.
Recent podcasts:
“Helping Kids Through Crisis” – What Friends Do Podcast, episode 13
“How to Ignite Childlike Joy in the Grown Up Overwhelm” Fresh Start Family Podcast, episode 154
“Finding Your Inner Truth Among Adversity” The Natalie Tysdal Podcast, episode 89
Soul Shift is currently 25% at B&N (Friday, January 27 is the last day)
“I don’t remember last Thanksgiving. Where did we go? What did we do?”
Those were the words of my sixteen-year-daughter as our family of four drove to get a Christmas tree.
Her comment did not surprise me. Traumatic periods of life can get blocked out for self-protective purposes.
My husband and my older daughter chimed in with benign tidbits about what they remembered about Thanksgiving 2021.
We weren’t all together for the first time in our lives.
That’s what I remember.
Things were not how they were supposed to be.
That’s what I remember.
After a few more details were offered, everyone in the car got quiet, perhaps remembering how the crisis impacted each of us in different ways.
When one family member is in pain, it affects all the members – like one bad bulb on the string of twinkle lights makes the whole strand go dark.I made that connection when I plugged in the string of lights my Uncle Steve gifted me twenty years ago. They were gathered inside a rustic, woven basket he’d made by hand. With its ginormous, colorful bulbs and sentimental value, it’s one of my favorite holiday decorations.
I excitedly plugged in the basket of lights, anticipating the feeling of joy it always brings when it comes to life.
But…
there was nothing.
For the first time in twenty Decembers, the basket of lights did not glow.
After testing the strand in several sockets around the house, I faced the fact that they’d never light up again.
But I refused to throw them away.
I Googled “bad string of lights” in hopes of finding a fix. The first paragraph of the how-to article caught me off guard:
“Christmas light strings are wired in series, which means that every light must be functioning in order for the string to be lit. When a blub burns out, it breaks the connection, and the whole string of lights goes dark.”
Oh. I thought. Maybe this isn’t just about Christmas lights.
I thought about the light that went dark in my younger child, and the fact that our family didn’t toss up our hands and believe the light would never shine again.
We believed.
I believed.
At first, my belief presented itself prominently through protective measures, resource gathering, seeking professional guidance, and thinking… thinking… constantly thinking about her broken light.
It consumed me.
After a few months of that, my mom made an observation that was hard to hear.
“You know who I am most worried about right now?” Mom said solemnly over the phone. “You, Rachel. You are carrying so much of this heaviness, and I think you need to figure out a way to not let her healing process consume you.”
My Soul Shift journey has taught me that healing truths often come in the form of hard truths (if we choose to be honest with ourselves). I recognized my mom’s statement as one such truth because it echoed an awareness I was already starting to have:
My own light was now in jeopardy; I needed to start plugging INTO restorative outlets instead of constantly and obsessively draining myself dry.By working on healing myself through this crisis, I would be contributing to the healing process of my entire family.
This concept is the very foundation of my Soul Shift journey: When we cultivate harmony within ourselves, we cultivate an everlasting source of energy that creates healing ripples outward, into our families and communities.
Because of the awareness I’ve acquired over my decade-long journey, I was able to recognize I was reverting to a damaging default response: Trying to control things when I am anxious or scared.
‘Rachel,’ I said to myself, ‘it is not up to you to recover the light in your child and in your family unit. Trust that as you process your pain in healthy ways, you will be better equipped to help your family process theirs when they are ready.’
I began making intentional efforts to plug into healthy outlets for a few minutes each day to calm and regulate my nervous system. With a bit of distance between my child’s struggle and my own, I was able to see flickers of healing.
- I saw a flicker when she helped her tennis coach stay calm during a nerve-racking match.
- I saw a flicker when she described how she was learning to communicate with a non-verbal student at school.
- I saw a flicker when she was nominated to be a student representative for a suicide prevention program.
- I saw a flicker when she got behind the wheel and confidently said, “I am going to be a good driver, Mom. You can relax.”
When I saw flickers of healing happening, I was there to point out her strengths, as well as the small, brave steps she was taking to reclaim her dignity and joy.
In between the flickers were some difficult periods where unhealthy coping mechanisms surfaced. But through the work I've done on my own healing journey, I was prepared…
- I knew I could address unhealthy coping mechanisms from a place of “I know, because I have my own self-sabotaging behaviors,” and explain how she’d helped me see them in the past.
- I knew the timing of these hard conversations was equally important as the words I chose. How many conversations were broached in the sanctuary of our car? Too many to count. One of the most healing ones lasted two hours in our garage because I knew I could sit with her in her pain and didn’t have to fix it or run from it.
- I knew my child’s missteps did not make her less worthy, nor did they mean I had failed her.
- I knew family conversations where big emotions surfaced were not something to fear, avoid, or shut down, but instead dialogues that needed space to be expressed, processed, and validated.
- I knew that although things were not how they were “supposed” to be, it didn’t mean they were wrong, and our family was doomed.
Last Thanksgiving, we were not together.
This Thanksgiving, it was just the four of us – no extended family or friends for the very first time.
As we sat down to dinner, I told my family I’d like to read one of my favorite quotes by Brené Brown.
“Mom’s gonna cry…” my older daughter said affectionately.
Keeping my voice steady, I read this out loud:
“Twinkle lights are the perfect metaphor for joy. Joy is not a constant. It comes to us in moments – often ordinary moments. Sometimes we miss out on the bursts of joy because we’re too busy chasing down extraordinary moments. Other times, we’re so afraid of the dark that we don’t dare let ourselves enjoy the light. I believe a joyful life is made up of joyful moments gracefully strung together by trust, gratitude, inspiration and faith.” Exactly one year ago, I’d been so afraid of the dark that was suddenly part of our story. But the more I tried to hold it at bay, the more power it gained.
Looking at my family gathered around the table, changed in ways the eyes can’t see, it seemed fitting to invite their voices in. Knowing full well this question could crash and burn, I took a deep breath and asked anyway.
“Would anyone like to say what they are grateful for this year?”
I sat in awe as each member of our family volunteered very specific blessings.
Unlike rote blessings of year’s past, these were messy, honest, tender, and real… because they had been lived by the person speaking them. When it was my turn, the most important things had been said, so I got to simply point out the light that held us, both individually and collectively in that room.
And not for a single minute did I wonder if the light would be there tomorrow… I chose only to be in the moment at hand.
That is where the joy is.
Friends, on an unforgettable July night in 2021, when everything came crashing down, I remember looking at the ceiling of my bedroom and thinking, “I can’t do this. This hurts too much.” But deep inside, the voice of my inner protector reminded me: ‘You can do this because it is what you’ve spent the last decade preparing for.’ My inner protector was right – learning to sit with my pain and reclaim my joy prepared me to sit with my child in her pain and support her as she reclaims her joy. I have spent the past eighteen months writing a book about this vital process. My new book is called SOUL SHIFT: The Weary Human’s Guide to Getting Unstuck and Reclaiming Your Path to Joy. Unlike my previous works, Soul Shift uses a metaphor of a rustic garden – complete with illustrations, maps, and engaging exercises – to help you explore and recover YOUR personal path to joy. The fact you have read this far means you are my people, and I want you to be the first to see the beautiful cover and grab a signed copy while supplies last. Pre-orders are vitally important to the success of a book, so if you do pre-order, please save your receipt. I am preparing a very special gift for anyone who pre-orders Soul Shift. The book is available at the following retailers:
Amazon, Bookshop, Barnes & Noble, Indiebound, Sounds True, Premiere Collectibles (signed copy)
Thanksgiving 2022 with my beloved daughters and some twinkle lights
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