about sherapy101

Latest from My Blog

On Therapy and Coaching

Before the popularity of having a therapist booned, I had a 2 decades of therapy sessions to draw from. I believe wholeheartedly in sitting with someone who is offering space to listen and safely usher me into the issue(s). It is only by leaning in that I can walk through and move on from whatever the issue may be.

Sitting here at my desk is a plastic lavender 3-ring binder filled with hundreds of sherapy101 posts from my social media accounts. On the occasional flip-through of the pages, I see a highlighted topic of the quote. Intuitively, I managed to come up with a variety of topics that most sentient beings can relate to.

My coaching practice allows me to witness how similar, longing and connected we all are. In essence, once we find the key and unlock our heart’s desire, it is akin to pulling into a parking lot and crossing over the “DO NOT BACK UP” spikes with the inability to back out or our tires will pop! In other words, we can’t unknow what we’ve already discovered. Once discovered, the next indicated step is to move forward and focus on the discovery at hand. Oh how sweet and empowering it is!

Personally, I’ve gained more insight, motivation and movement than I knew possible through receiving coaching. I still keep current with my therapist, but find my sessions on trauma and crisis have become obsolete. Life can change in a minute, so I will always keep therapy a part of my life. Undoubtedly, as my life’s tapestry grows, there will be hurdles, challenges and times where I will need support and guidance to lean in.

Without having leaned into my past, I never would have been able to be present for my clients as their Coach. The work of my life is to improve and delight in all I have become. Through coaching others, I’ve learned to move with intuitive intention and my life continues to be inspired by the sweet rhythm of connection.

Potentially Awakened?

The feeling of nausea is the worst. As a child, I was small and underweight. In the 4th grade, I weighed a whopping 42lbs. One day when walking home from school, I was, quite literally, blown off the sidewalk from a strong gust of wind. At dinner that night, Dad told me he would see about getting a ball and chain for my ankle so it wouldn’t happen again.

Nausea plagued me my entire childhood and the only thing that cured the suffering was when Dad came home and reached into his shirt pocket to give me two golden-wrapped, German Chocolate “Ice Cubes”. I remember the smooth, velvety chocolate melting on my tongue as Dad smiled. “Better?” It was.

When I was home sick I’d lose myself in the fantasy of what it would be like to live in a house with a pool. I conjured up the image of how good it would feel to jump in the cool water of a pool and have the nausea dissipate. The image repeated itself whenever I was sick in the Summertime and Country Time Lemonade commercials would air with smiling kids running in the warm sunshine. Little did I know my life as an awakened being was in play.

Now I sit, 5 decades later, with a pool in my backyard and lemonade in my kitchen refrigerator. This is no surprise considering I’ve lived a life of my creation by way of waking up and accepting my highest potential. Awareness of my greatest desires continue to be the first step in manifesting the very best outcome. The challenges of the process and journey are the sweet bits where I get to play in the energy of experimenting to see what sticks.

If not for the nausea and Dad’s kindness, I may never have drawn this conclusion as it is today: Chocolate + lemonade = a house with a swimming pool. Potential is something I’ve always had and I’m thrilled to be awakened to it! My life’s purpose and pleasure is to awaken others. If you want to join me, I’ll bring the lemonade and chocolate. You bring whatever you’ve got going on and we’ll work together to wake you up so you, too, can live your life of creation!!

How I Healed 19 Year-Old Sherry; a First Time Rape Survivor

To write. To handwrite. To concentrate. To sit. To remember. To revisit. To be back in the space. To enter the dwelling as it was. To breathe in the past. To soak in the blame. To wonder if it was worth the pain. To remember the agreement. To remember the “yes”. To capture the essence of who I was. To remember Sherry as she was. To forgive her when there is no reason to forgive. To let her know she trusted. To tell her she would trust again. To tell her she would have her trust broken again… and again… and again… To tell her she will rise again… and again… and again… To hold her. To love her. To explain to her she was never at fault. To let her grieve. To let her be. To give her space. To let her wounds pound with pain. To let her suffer. To dress her physical wounds and kiss them tenderly. To hold her. To wipe her tears. To tell her she is a good person and will have a good life. To tell her she will lose friends. To tell her she will outlive many. To tell her she will gain friends. To tell her she will travel. To tell her she is enough. To tell her she is a work in progress. To tell her she knows who she is and where she is headed on a deeper level. To embrace the moment together. To dry her injured body off as she shakes in the shower. To gently assist her out of the shower and wrap a soft, warm towel around her and hold her as she weeps. To look her in the eyes and tell her what a miracle she is. To ice her wounds and hydrate her body with lavender oil. To rub her back and shoulders as she weeps. To kiss her cheeks and forehead over and over again. To sit and listen. To dress her in a warm, soft robe. To lotion her feet and rub them as she tells me of her pain. To breathe in the moment. To make her some peppermint tea and sourdough toast with butter and blackberry jam. To feed her and hold the mug of tea as she sips. To honor her. To let her breathe. To let her be.

CHP Officer Michael Nelson and The Courage Coin

3/28/2022

The 7^th floor of the San Mateo Superior Court hallway has typically been a long slick-floored, brightly sunlit portal, empty of anyone except for those involved with our trial. When we arrived this morning, most of the hallway pew-fashioned benches were taken by jurors. As I turned the corner from the elevators, I spotted two young – perhaps in their late twenties – CHP Officers clad in beige. Each officer wore a piece of black cloth strapped around their badges. As I walked near them, I asked who they in mourning for. The Officer told me it was for an officer in another state (I can’t recall which one but believe it was a southern state).

“To be honest, mam, it’s not very often that we don’t have the black cloth on our badges.”

Hearing that from s a CHP officer gave me pause. I stood and talked to him for a little while, waiting for my attorney to emerge from the courtroom with an update. We chatted about the dangers of his job and the small town where he was originally from, neither of us revealing why we were waiting in that hallway. He had a kind smile and a clear young complexion, untouched by the decades of toxic matter he will likely be exposed to as time goes on.

Within about 10 minutes, my attorney emerged with an update. The Officer and I said our goodbyes, noting that it was a nice conversation. We parted ways as I left with my group walking down on that shiny hallway floor. I shared the information about the black mourning cloth with my friends and family members. A tilt of the head and slow downward nod seemed to be the consensus.

When we came back from lunch, we walked down the (once again) empty hall to our courtroom. Around 2:40pm we had a 20-minute stretch break and I walked out of the courtroom to see the Officer back on the hallway bench. He looked up and smiled so I walked over to him, as he stood up.

“Mam, I wanted to give you something.” He said, holding a larger than a silver-dollar-sized coin in his hand. “This is a Courage Coin. Do you know what that is?”

“No. I don’t”

“It’s a coin that you give to someone when they need support. I want to give it to you.”

“Really? Do you have another one?”

“No, mam, there is just this one. I took it from here”

He unbuttoned his shirt button, revealing the chest plate of his bulletproof vest, adorned by a small American Flag patch that acted as a pocket for the coin.

“When you’re done with it, you pass it along to someone who you see needs it.”

“Oh my goodness. I don’t even know what to say. You have no idea what this means to me.”

“Well, I see you’re here and sensed you could use it.”

“Thank you so much. May I give you a hug?”

“Sure.”

The stiff protective barrier of his vest gave me a sense of ease for him as I set my head on his shoulder for a firm embrace.

“Where did you get this?”

“There’s a woman who comes around to the different stations and gives them out as an initiative to support law enforcement.”

“Wow. That’s really cool.”

“Yes mam.”

“I will hold space for you in my meditation and prayer sessions. What’s your name?”

“Michael Nelson. And pray for everyone. Pray for the world.”

“Oh I will. And I do. I pray for everyone. Even the people at the end of the hallway.”

Officer Nelson got called into his courtroom just around the time we did. As we walked back into our courtroom, I showed to coin to my friends, family and attorneys. We were all moved by Officer Nelson’s kindness. 

The coin is silver, black and blue. The band around the front has an American Eagle, wings spread, flying over a black, white and single-blue striped American Flag with a small gold stamp of an officer’s badge. Encircling the coin are the words:

Thank you for your sacrifice, courage, bravery

On the back is a black circle with another small blue stamp of an officer’s badge at the bottom of the Hero’s Valor Prayer:

Lord,

Watch over me

As I perform my duties

And serve my community.

Please grant me the courage,

 strength, and determination

to face my responsibilities

with a hero’s valor.

Amen