Safe To Fall Apart
It’s way too funny/not funny how one week I’m writing a blog about how smooth our back-to-school transition is going, and then… BOOM! Things are falling APART.
I even thought about titling this blog When Things Fall Apart, but Pema Chödrön already did that. She wrote a wonderful book I still love, about how when life feels like it’s unraveling, those very moments are actually powerful opportunities for deeper compassion and connection with our innate goodness. She’s right.
This week, I’ve been really sitting with a phrase a mentor once taught me: “The issue is not the issue. It’s how we relate (or connect ) to ourselves within the issue that’s the issue.”
So I’ve been practicing compassion.
Not only for my kids (who are the main ones falling apart right now), but also for myself as I hold space for them with as much love as I can.
It’s so easy to spiral inward with negative thoughts and judgments about why things feel messy - asking myself, “What did I do wrong? What could I have done differently to prevent this?” But newsflash: I’m not doing that. If anything, I’m starting to believe that the loving home and heart I’ve created is exactly what’s allowing my kids to feel safe enough to have their feelings, express them, and release them.
Maybe that smooth transition back to school was part of it too - they’re settled, they’re grounded, they don’t have to hold it all in anymore. And wow, what a concept: falling apart can actually mean safety.
Think about it.. kids (and honestly, adults too) don’t usually lose it when they’re in survival mode. When they’re bracing themselves or walking on eggshells, they hold it all in. They armor up. It’s only when they feel secure, when they know they’re loved and accepted, that the tears and the meltdowns and the messy feelings actually come out.
So maybe my kids “falling apart” isn’t a problem at all.
Maybe it’s evidence that what we’ve built at home is working. That our space is soft enough, safe enough, loving enough for them to let go.
And isn’t that kind of the point? To create a life where we don’t have to be perfect, where it’s okay to unravel a little, knowing we’ll be held?
There’s also a lot of talk about eclipse season right now. I don’t know much about it, but what I keep hearing is “everything is UP.” Meaning, whatever is ready to fall away comes up to the surface for us to release (so Mother Earth can compost it for us. I’m watching this happen for myself) systems and relationship dynamics that have always sort of lingered in the background are suddenly very agitating. Like so agitating I can’t ignore them. Before, I could brush them aside—but not this week, not this eclipse season.
Same for my kids. Just one example: our custody schedule. They’ve been doing this routine for about eight years, and suddenly, in a very big way, it’s like they’re shouting at me: “THIS ISN’T WORKING ANYMORE, ADULTS! LISTEN TO US!” So I am. I am listening, loving, praying a lot, and also taking action where I can. And I’m holding a lot of love and support for them - adding more support and taking off their plates whatever I can during this season.
I’m realizing I needed that smooth start to school to show me what’s no longer working for my kids and me. Some things need to shift. Some big things, and also some smaller tweaks. I don’t know what it all looks like yet, but I’m here for it. I’m open to seeing, hearing, and experiencing whatever more God has in store for us. How good can it get? This or something better, for the highest good of all concerned.
And honestly, that’s what Pema was pointing to in her book. That we can’t fully see or receive the miracles without also walking through the lows.
Life is so interesting. It’s never linear, never perfect.
Things are smooth… then there are hiccups. And in those hiccups, we get the chance to be kind—to ourselves and to others.
I strive to treat myself like I would my daughter, or a dear friend, or my mom: “It’s okay, sweetie. You’re doing your best. In fact, you’re doing amazing with all that you’re carrying.”
Sometimes that looks like literally wrapping myself in a blanket like I would a baby or a grandmother. A couple of years ago, I remember being especially challenged and I titled that year: “She Just Kept Putting Herself Back to Bed.” Because that’s what I did. I kept checking in with my inner child, that little girl inside me.. and she just wanted to rest, to be cuddled, to feel held. So I gave her a lot of that.
And really, that’s all I want to keep giving my kids. And one day, my mom too.
Because here’s the takeaway, the heart of it all: falling apart isn’t a failure. It’s a signal. It’s a sign that we (and our kids) are safe enough to let go, to be fully seen, to be fully human. And in those moments of unraveling, there is love, there is growth, and there is life waiting to bloom.
Ready to Practice Self-Compassion When Life Gets Messy?
If this resonates with you (if you've been judging yourself when things feel chaotic instead of offering yourself the same love you'd give your children) I have something that can help.
👉 WATCH When Everything Falls Apart: Simple Somatic Shaking to Reset Your Nervous System
In this raw, unpolished video (filmed right after my morning walk!), I'll guide you through the exact somatic practice I use when I catch myself in that shame spiral. You'll learn how to tune into what you actually need (whether that's rest or movement) and discover the simple shaking technique that releases all that stored tension and self-judgment.
Because here's the truth: the issue isn't that your house is messy or your kids are melting down. The issue is how you're treating yourself within those moments.
Your children are watching. What do you want to teach them about how to relate to themselves when life gets hard?
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