Women Rise
Happy International Women’s Day (IWD)!
Of course I would write about women today! This is a challenging time - women’s rights are being systematically eroded in the US, and women continue to fight for equality, respect, and freedom throughout the world. It’s shocking in this day and age!
There’s a lot going on and I, like so many, have been impacted on many levels by the ability of one man to disrupt the world, turning our lives upside down, changing the systems and our security into something unrecognizable.
And so today, I tapped for a few minutes before sitting down to write - with so much happening I’ve found it difficult to focus on writing or much of anything really. Tapping (EFT) helps to calm one’s nervous system and allow thoughts to emerge in a calm, more relaxed way.
As I invited my subconscious mind to support me in writing this post today, I found myself drifting into memories of childhood and beyond, remembering the women who found their way into my life and who had a profound impact on me (even though I didn’t always realize it at the time).
When I was a child my mom worked in my dad’s office part-time. I was cared for at lunch and after school by two older women. The first, Mrs. S, was my favorite and when she finally retired I was devastated. I remember her as fun, loving, caring but firm, with arms that would wrap around me in a big hug.
She hadn’t had an easy life and if memory serves me correctly, she and her husband escaped Germany to come to Canada around the time of WW2. Her husband apparently wasn’t a nice man and didn’t always treat Mrs. S well. Despite that, I felt safe and loved by this woman. I saw and felt her strength, recognized the determination in her to live life to the fullest as much as she could, grateful for the privileges she had in Canada.
The second woman to care for me was a woman from Poland who had been tortured by the Germans in WW2, forced to lay down on her belly while bayonets were plunged into her back. I don’t know much more about her story - I think mom was careful what she shared with me.
I found Mrs. P a challenge, particularly after the care I received from Mrs. S. There was fear throughout Mrs. P, particularly of men, and as a sensitive child, I felt every bit of it. I remember dreading the days she was at our house and yet had such compassion, as much as a young child could have, for this woman who’d survived unthinkable acts.
Arriving home after school, I’d have to ring the doorbell and yell through the door that it was me before she’d slowly open the door, peeking around it, before letting me in. Such a contrast to Mrs. S who would stand waiting for me in the kitchen, door unlocked, with a big smile and a hug that enveloped me in her large, soft body.
Mrs. P did her best and I knew she cared for me - we had moments of deep connection - but there was always tension, a push/pull I didn’t know how to navigate as a child. She wanted to control my every move, was worried when I wanted to go out to play with friends - there was no laughing or joy, only a feeling of fear on those days.
At some point, I let mom know how I felt and she was able to be at home for me after school. While I was relieved, I knew how much strength it must have taken to be in a constant state of fear, always looking over one’s shoulder, locking the door to keep safe - such trauma that in those days wouldn’t have been acknowledged openly, resulting in behaviours that made sense but may have been seen as “crazy”. I knew, instead, that Mrs. P was a woman carrying horrifying wounds inflicted by a crazed dictator and did her best to live as freely as she could.
There were other women in my life who taught me lessons.
Aunty Marg (not my real Aunt), the horsewoman, who took me under her wing when I was visiting England. She and I rode horses together - she taught me to canter and when I was thrown she insisted I get up and get back on, no matter that my body hurt and I was suddenly afraid of this powerful animal. I’ll always remember her wisdom - life’s going to throw you off course and your response needs to be to get back up and get back at it. She taught me that women are strong and can be independent. A cancer survivor, she lived each day as a woman who got back on the horse no matter what.
There are more - too many to write about today.
I’m grateful for each one and the lessons I’ve taken away from them. Most of them were ordinary women who modelled how to rise, harness their strength, believe in their power, not through positions of fame and fortune, but through everyday acts of love, connection and sharing their wisdom, despite their individual circumstances.
As I look behind me, these are the women who today give me hope that we will continue to have the strength and determination to rise and see our way to regaining what’s being eroded today. We must rise - our children and grandchildren’s future depend upon it.
Thanks for reading. Happy Women’s Weekend to all!
I’d love to hear your stories about the women who’ve influenced your life and taught you valuable lessons - you can let me know below in the comments or connect with me privately HERE.
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Joan
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