The Courage to Become | Alexis Edwards
I am thrilled to have the opportunity to participate in a collaborative series dreamed up by the amazingly talented Catia Holm. Catia is a mama, writer, speaker and all around badass lady who is passionate about inspiring authenticity and teaching others how to flourish.
Catia’s “Courage to Become” series features women from all walks of life with uniquely inspiring stories on how they garnered the courage to BECOME. Women blazing their own trails despite fear and doubt so they could BECOME the women they are truly meant to be. The series will highlight and celebrate each woman’s journey and I’m overjoyed that Catia invited me to join the group!
When Catia reached out, I was honestly like, "Huh? Me? I’m boring." But I think that might also be the point. Navigating womanhood can be brutal. Expectations are high, judgments are common, and self-esteem is a journey all its own. To combat that, we need community and we need to know that our voice matters. We need to be told and understand that our purpose is unique and absolutely attainable despite our fears and doubts.
I think many of us truly struggle to become. When I looked up the definition, I found the meaning “begin to be”. To be or not to be, that is the question, right? It certainly has been for me. My life has been a series of inner dialogues about whether or not to begin and while it’s never easy to take the plunge, each new beginning has helped shape me into the woman I am today.
I haven’t lived the easiest life. I was born to very young parents who raised me in a blended and messy shared custody battle ground. My mother struggled with mental illness, substance abuse and I moved from one city to the next as she chased her broken dreams. We didn’t live in one place for longer than a year or two and my life felt completely nomadic. I yearned for normalcy and endlessly hoped for freedom from the roaming chaos.
While not the nuclear family of my peers, my imperfectly disordered upbringing is exactly where everything about my personality was born. It was the beginning of my becoming. I was forced into a life of independence and resilience and quickly learned how to take charge and meet the needs of others. All of which led me to the career path I’m still walking today.
Since before I can remember, I always wanted to be a helper of sorts, well there was that one time when I was four and wanted to be a ballerina trapeze artist, but other than that I wanted to be a vet, a doctor, a teacher, basically all the kickass people saving (or changing) lives.
It’s my theory that those of us that have been broken are pulled into roles of mending and helping and will continuously do everything in our power to bring things (or people) back into wholeness. And that’s exactly what I did.
I came “home” to Louisiana for undergrad, desperate to dig roots, to be still. I thought, “This is where I will stay forever,” but turns out my wild heart needed more adventure. Despite my dad’s dismay, I did not end up going to medical school, I mean math is hard, but I did discover a calling that allowed me to not only heal my own pain, but to also channel it into serving others.
I applied to graduate school at the UT Austin School of Social Work and after visiting the campus felt an intense pull to stay, my first influential internal dialogue about becoming. What about my family and friends in Louisiana? What if I regretted it? What if I failed? But the thing I’ve learned time and time again, is that your gut is your truth.
Each time I’ve doubted or questioned or feared, I’ve closed my eyes and listened to my heart. Deep down, we all know what we need. We all know what is right or wrong or necessary. Our heart and soul whispers the answers into every part of our being. The problem is that we don’t trust ourselves enough to hold those truths steady.
Eventually I became a mother and realized that mothering was hard. I doubt myself daily and find myself frequently telling a friend, “Today I was a bad mom”. It’s as if the hard things, the struggles, make us feel like we are doing everything wrong. The truth that we are good and alive and doing our best – becomes unsteady -- because the pressure outside says darkness is bad. Failure is wrong. Losing isn’t right. But for me, it’s the things in my life that were all of it, the good, bad and ugly, that brought me the most joy --that made me grow and change and become more human. We can struggle and still be good.
My gut (truth) has never let me down. I followed my truth from grad school in Austin to an internship in South Africa and back again. I followed it again into marriage and motherhood. I followed it when leaving my career to stay home with my babies and I’m following it today as I embark on the journey to reignite my career all over again.
I still have zero clue what I’m doing, but I’m experiencing life. I’m trusting the process and listening to my heart every step of the way. I’m sitting with discomfort and fear and letting it guide me as I unearth the truth behind it all.
I think so often about HOW my children will become WHOLE. About how they can reach self-love and embrace their truth and I think the answer is in teaching them -- not so much about right from wrong -- but more about right and wrong. Strange and normal. Easy and hard. Sadness and joy. Fear and confidence. How the most dichotomous of experiences are actually immensely intertwined and living them together is the only way to authentically become.
Essay by: Alexis Edwards
“I used to think I was the strangest person in the world but then I thought there are so many people in the world, there must be someone just like me who feels bizarre and flawed in the same ways I do. I would imagine her, and imagine that she must be out there thinking of me, too. Well, I hope that if you are out there and read this and know that, yes, it’s true I’m here, and I’m just as strange as you.”
~Frida Kahlo
Head on over to Birth 360 to get in touch with Alexis
And for a daily dose of FUNNY, REAL and SMART visit Alexis on her Instagram!
Hi friend!
I'm Catia, a woman, wife, mama, sister, sister friend, you know -- I wear a million hats just like you.
One of my biggest whys is that I want people to feel good about ALL of who they are. Including you.
The threads running through all my work (I wrote a book - The Courage to Become, I speak - TEDx, Choose Joy or Die , I am a private coach ) are hope, joy and empowerment.
If I could choose ten words that best describe me I would say: honest, welcoming, giving, curious, loving, earnest, empathetic, spiritual, playful, and sassy. Let's add: adventurous. That's 11.
Nice to meet you!
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What it Feels like to Worship
Originally published on 9-15-13
Sunday Morning
It’s 9:58 AM and I’m just getting to church for the 10am service. I’m dressed in a pink tweed dress and some nude patent leather heels. I was too lazy to blow dry my hair, so it’s up in pony tail. I reason with myself that God’s just glad I’m here.
I park in the middle school parking lot across from the low income housing units and walk swiftly up the cracked side walk. As I pass fellow 10 a.m. church goers. I think, “Hello, I hope you’re as excited as I am.” But instead of speaking, I just smile. I have my big brown vegan approved tote in hand, and since I have been coming to Greater Mt. Zion a year and half I know what to pack. Every Sunday I bring a pen, notebook paper, a check book and lots of tissue. Once in a while I bring in my phone so that I can record snippets of the choir, so I can listen to them at my leisure. As I get closer to the building I hear the welcome music coming through the outdoor speakers, which I quite enjoy. It’s like the amuse-bouche, compliments of the chef.
I am politely greeted by a woman in her mid-40s, “Hello and welcome to Greater Mt. Zion. Enjoy the service.” I think, “You bet I will!” I am handed a one page weekly bulletin and my eyes scan it. My heart says, “You need to be more involved.” My mind says, “You travel too much.” I convince myself that my level of involvement is enough and I am ushered in the sanctuary.
I take my seat, tuck my over-sized tote under the pew and before I can even look around to analyze the new outfits in the room, I am engulfed in voices, a buzzing of love. I sit in the first few rows and so I am not farther than 10 feet from a full experience. The 20 person choir is singing their first song. Before I can catch their melody, I can feel that each of their hearts is wide open and full to the brim of praise and thanks. Their cup runneth over so does mine.
The spirit of the Lord is here
The spirit of the Lord is here
I feel it in the atmosphere
The spirit of the Lord is here, oh
The spirit of the Lord is here, oh
The power of the Lord is here
The power of the Lord is here
I feel it in the atmosphere,
The power of the Lord is here, oh
The power of the Lord is here, oh
Everybody blow the trumpet
And sound the alarm
because the Lord is in the temple
Let everybody bow
Let all the people praise Him now
The Lord is here
I close my eyes and the joyous voices raise me into a cloud of what can only be described as love. I think, “This must be what heaven feels like.” Their ability to praise Jesus with such pride and fervor seeps into me and soon my heart is open and full. So full in fact that now it has to find a release. Finally, my eyes well up and steady streams of tears start to roll down my eyes. Any negative feeling that was floating around in me is shoved out by love and gratitude. I can only reason that this strategy will work in everyday life. The more I praise and give thanks, the less space there is for anger, jealousy or even self-pity.
The voices of that fill the old Baptist church are untrained and yet, they sound spectacular. The parishioners’ voices are loud and there is palpable electricity in the room. If a bystander walked by the church and saw it elevating, I wouldn’t be surprised. The 27 year old male soloist convincingly sings, “We’re going higher…higher! The presence of the Lord is here, the presence of the Lord is here, I feel him in the atmosphere, the presence of the lord….IS HERE,” and everyone is so jazzed and my hands are red and stinging from clapping with so much excitement. The color coordinated choir is swaying from side to side and movin’ and groovin’. They look sharp! “I really want to be part of the choir, singing is not my strong point, but maybe I’ll try one day.”
As we near the end of the song the instruments drop off into the background, as to let the believer’s voices be heard more clearly. I feel so much emotion that the lump in my throat is growing with every note. Now we’ve been praising and dancing for 6 minutes and Greater Mt. Zion is filled wall to wall and floor to ceiling with powerful souls who are praising God. It is magical! I am so overwhelmed that I cover my face and cry into my hands. I think, “I am lucky to have found this church home. I am so lucky to have found God.” God is here, I know. I know for sure, God is here.
The church pews and extra patio chairs and balconies are filled with parishioners of all ages. The 200 person congregation is filled with followers who have more than me, less than me, who are different than me and the same as me saying, “Thank you, Jesus. I praise you. Thank you.” We are all just proud and grateful to participate.
The first song is now over.
An hour and a half later, church wraps and I walk out feeling energized and rejuvenated. I feel loved and I know I have contributed to my foundation. I know that the last hour and half was spent not in prayer for things to come, but in prayer of gratitude. On Sundays, I don’t ask God for anything, I just give thanks for all he’s already done. After Sunday service, I know I am a better advocate for humanity. I feel whole.
Heaven must feel like this, I know. I know, Heaven must feel like this.
I wish so much to put each of you in my pocket and bring you with me to church. I think you would love it! I wish I could give you the gift of God’s love and peace, but I know better, only you can do that for yourselves. I love loud joyous celebrations, so Greater Mt. Zion works for me. I encourage you to find what works for you.
What Actually Matters?
Originally published on 9-7-13
A few years ago my girlfriend and I were moseying along South Congress and we stopped into the Hotel Saint Cecilia bar to have a drink. After we sat down the bartender asked for our room key. I told him that we weren’t staying on property; we were just there for a cocktail. He politely informed us that the bar was only available to hotel guests, and a few minutes later we were back, moseying along South Congress.
I walked out slightly bummed but since the bartender was so polite, I was intrigued.
I thought, one day, when it’s a super special occasion, I’ll stay there.
Fast forward to super special occasion, July 26th, 2013. Guapo proposed, we were officially engaged and planning commenced.
Part of the planning was booking a hotel room for our wedding night. As soon as Guapo gave me a hint of support for booking a room at the HSC, I was on it. It is possible that I booked it while he was finishing his declaration of support. “Sure, I think a room at the HSC would be…..” “Click.” Booked. I was thrilled! Hotel Saint Cecilia, here we come!
I booked it for two nights, August 28th the night before our wedding and August 29th our wedding night. My plans were to hang with my girlfriends, enjoy some extra time at the hotel and get ready for the big day, of course!
A few days out Guapo suggested that the night before the wedding I should sleep wherever I’d get the most rest and be most peaceful. He said he loved me and understood if I wanted to get some extra girl time and that we’d have plenty of nights together after. I felt he sincerely meant either location.
As I was mulling it over my sleeping situation I thought about Sex and City, the movie. Carrie and Big get engaged. Their wedding planning starts off intimate and then snowballs into a huge NYC sized production. They have intense drama and spend the next year trying to get back to where they started, cozy.
In the four weeks of wedding planning I made a concerted effort to keep everything as cool and casual as possible. I wasn’t zen, I just did my best. I never wanted to have the cake topper not coming in overshadow the importance of us committing our lives to each other. In the same vein, we had a teeny wedding of 25. This was our way of focusing on the marriage and not the production of a wedding.
It must be said that I delight in attending large, festive weddings. If those work for you, I am thrilled and please invite me to yours! I will show up in your wedding video dancing like a fool. However, a big fat Mexican wedding just doesn’t suit our personality as a couple.
Back to the task as hand -- deciding whether or not to stay at the hotel the night before our wedding.
As I was trying to figure it out I thought, “What will bring me/us the most peace and which choice will highlight the reason of honor so to speak?” I thought, “I am committing my life to this person tomorrow and my priority is staying in a cooler than cool hotel?” It just didn’t sit well with me. By 3pm on the 28th I had decided. Home was where I would stay.
I stayed at home and our fabulous to die for hotel room, where movie stars stay, stayed empty.
We slept in our bed together and woke up together. We have a beautiful morning routine that I guard intently and I guarded it that day too. There was no way we were going to start this marriage focusing on RSVPs, dinner selections or other people’s preferences. Family and friends were in town and buzzing around but we didn’t let that cut into our morning time either.
On the morning of our wedding day we read newspapers, sipped hot almond milk lattes and enjoyed each other’s company. At 9am we kissed goodbye and agreed to see each other at 4:45pm, ceremony time.
It’s so easy, especially during big moments like a wedding day, to get worked up and focus on a million little things: different personalities, schedules, rentals, linens, weather and even the groom’s attire.
Those are all little things and in the end they don’t matter. And if we’re keeping things in perspective, they don’t matter, ever.
Take a moment to write down what matters to you. It will help keep you on track.
My focus for this event is:_____________
My goal today is:____________________
I am here today to:___________________.
Don’t let your mood or perspective or goals get polluted by all the junk floating around in your orbit. I encourage you to stay peaceful and hang onto what matters most to you.
Leaving work Post Partum
Originally published on 7-24-13
Before graduating high school I was an honors student, played varsity golf and was a drum major of a 300 person marching band. When I graduated at 17 years old, I ranked 5th out of 600. After high school I attended UT Business School and clipped through that in 3 years, only to graduate at 20 years old. Immediately after UT I enrolled in graduate school at the University of Houston where I worked full time and took a full course load. After two years in graduate school I graduated with a 4.0 and got hired onto my then dream job, a manager at Eddie V’s Edgewater Grille in downtown Austin. In 2006 Eddie V’s was the sexiest place in town. The restaurant was filled with money, power, fame and beauty to boot. I was having my cake and eating it too. At 25 my family hired me full time to help run their million dollar business, Holiday Wine and Liquor. I attended community events, filmed commercials, conducted wine tastings, created team culture and built our brand. After four years with Holiday, I was hired in 2011 to be General Manager of Bar Operations at ACL-Live in downtown Austin. I was back in Austin and working at the hippest place in town. Mariah Carey told me to make it happen, and I did.
Well, a month ago I let ACL and all the cache that went with it, go. I left for two reasons. The first was to create a better environment for my relationship and future family. The second was to focus on Anna and see my dreams of writing and coaching come true.
But, seven days after I left ACL, it hit like an anvil, I was making less money and I had turned in all my street cred. Money equals power, right? Or does money equal freedom? Or does working at a cool place equal power and freedom? Whatever money and job status equals, I started to feel a little less than. I felt like a financial burden to my partner and it seemed the only way to rectify this was to work really hard at making our house perfect.
On the 8th day, I woke up at 7:45 and made the bed by 8am. I had never made the bed so early. By noon, I had washed dishes, rearranged the living room furniture, took out the trash and recycling, made iced tea, and thanked my boyfriend 78 times for reasons known and unknown. I kept thinking, “Oh, what a nice man to take me in with all my student loan debt, I’d better be extra appreciative today, he is the breadwinner after all!” I was thanking him at the rate that Pippen thanked Jordan. I was thanking him like Katie Holmes and Nicole Kidman thanked Tom Cruise. I couldn’t stop thinking how disrespectful it would be to say, “You bring home the bacon and don’t forget to cook in for breakfast too!”
Maybe it was the Mexican servitude in me and maybe it was all those years of Catholic guilt indoctrination, but it was there and it was loud.
The fact that I was not contributing as much money to the family bank account grabbed a hold of me in a way I didn’t think it would. But, like the sun rises every morning, so too did God send me a teacher.
In the few weeks after my mind had been spinning, Guapo and I sat down with friends for dinner. There were three couples, and we sat divided at the table, three men and three women. Conversation got rolling and I had the patience to wait until our entrees to do what I do best, spill my beans.
I detailed my latest life developments which included: leaving ACL, making less money, feeling overloaded with domestic duties and feeling a little less than. I described to these ladies who are wonderful mothers and strong women, how I had been unsettled and how I was trying to get my sea legs for being what I have coined a ‘house person’ (since I’m not a Mom yet), someone who largely works from home and tends to house hold duties.
Elizabeth, a mom of three, looked at me and said, “Girl, when I left my job, it took me a year and a half to adjust!” She said, “Even though I knew it was the right decision for my family, I felt less than because I no longer had a job that people were in awe of.” Elizabeth continued with, “It took some real effort not to say, I’m just a stay at home mom. When the babies cried, I felt the need to jump out of bed and not inconvenience my husband who works long days.”
Vanessa, a mom of two, said, “Oh yes, I totally understand. At first you’ll feel the need to always have the dishwasher empty and have elaborate dinners cooked.” She too had a really cool job where she had more street cred than she could ask for. Vanessa also opened up and told me about the first time she went shopping after she became a stay at home mom. She said she paused out of guilt before buying a $50 bra, because maybe it wasn’t really communal money. Thankfully, Vanessa didn’t let the conversation end before telling me that there was a time she apologized to her husband for not having the dishes cleaned and he replied with, “Don’t worry about it, it’s not your job.” Surprised, Vanessa asked, “It’s not?” And she grabbed my hand and looked at me and said, “It’s not.” I felt relief sinking in.
There’s a lot to be said for women who support women. They could have easily brushed aside my comments, but they didn’t. They listened and empathized and responded. They held my hand, told me they knew exactly how I felt and sent me on my way. I am very grateful for them.
On the drive home after dinner, because I just had to have it all figured out before we were in the driveway I asked Guapo “What is my job now that I have so much free time?” He took a second and said, “Your job is to be kind and thoughtful and fulfilled, without those things our world doesn’t work.” He said, “You took a leap of faith on us, and I honor that. You giving up a job where you work nights and odd hours enhances our lives, and for that I’m grateful.” It finally started sinking in that I in fact was not a financial burden and that my increased presence in our lives was valued on time alone.
We parked the car, walked inside our home and I sat at the kitchen table while I watched Guapo buzz around the house. He fed the dogs and changed the slip covers on the sofa cushions and I told my Catholic guilt to hit the road.
The next day I reconciled that all my go getter accomplishments were still there and that “I” the person who did all those things didn’t vanish, I just decided to take another route. I made a deliberate choice to channel my energy into my home and my family and my dream of writing, and that doesn’t make me less than who I was six months ago. It in fact, gets me closer to being who I want to be.
Ladies, thank society for their idea of who you should be and if it doesn’t work for you, set it aside. Our greatest responsibility is not to make sure we fit into perfect boxes. Our greatest responsibilities as beings are to remain fulfilled and healthy and happy, so that we may make each of our corners a better place.
Some days I’ll have the bed made by 8am and some days I won’t, and it’s all okay.
The Velveteen Rabbit
Originally published on 7-11-13
Yesterday afternoon I walked up to the register at work and there she was in all her glory and there I was in all my plainness. She and I had once been friends but eventually the friendship strained and like often happens, life took us in different directions. There was no wall to cower behind and no rock to hide under.
There I stood, all 63 inches of me. I was dressed in rolled up boyfriend jeans, borrowed summer flats, a tattered Old Navy tank top, my hair lazily pulled into a pony tail, my boobs were hanging a little lower to the ground because I was wearing a strapless bra a few sizes too big (let’s face it, after running a marathon, they just never came back), I had not a lick of make up on and not even the dullest sparkle. I was as raw as I could be.
She was adorned with expensive shiny jewelry, stood what seemed a foot taller than me, she had her make up perfectly applied and her hair perfectly coiffed and she looked as beautiful as ever. I felt like we were in the boxing ring. She was packing a mean punch and I was out of my league.
My heart started to race and my ego started to squirm, it was so uncomfortable. All I could think was, “She’s so tall and beautiful, and I’m so short and inferior.” I was intimidated by her appearance. We stood there making small talk; all the while I was analyzing her accessories and comparing them to the lack of mine.
My thoughts were shallow in the worst way, I know. I felt like a frumpy commoner standing in the shadow of this glamazon.
Who knows what she was thinking? Maybe she was thinking, “Woah, Catia really stopped caring about her appearance,” or maybe she thought, “Casual Wednesday!” Or maybe she had the audacity to think about her own life, “I’ve got to make sure to pick up bread before I pick up the kids from day care.”
As she drove off in her cool car (my dream car), I pushed the emergency button.
My first move was to call my Sis who turns out couldn’t give me much solace as she was at work, I was pouty but I understood. Then I dialed my cousin to confess my moment of total intimidation. Then I called my boyfriend. No one answered. Rats!
I resolved I’d have to push through it myself, and I called on the following notion:
If you are walking in God’s purpose you should not be intimidated by anything or anyone else. Way easier said than done.
So I had a chat with myself.
Am I walking in God’s purpose? Yes. I am good to people, I love and nurture those around me, I offer kindness and love at the same rate that Dancing With The Stars offers golden spray tans. I am loved and I love deeply in return. I offer more good to the world than bad. I am pleased with the person I am.
For a solid fifteen minutes I sat with the awkward feelings, then went about my business at work and about an hour later, I had talked myself through the embarrassment. And then, it was over and I had a good laugh.
The Band-Aid solution would be to constantly be Stepford ready, but it would be a superficial fix and would not address my insecurities and self-esteem.
Every day, I stand in front of a mirror my eyes wander to the parts of my body that need the most help. I’m 5’3 and have always yearned to be taller, fat collects in my belly, I have cellulite, and my nose seems to be more pronounced than ever, I have pockets of fat on my inner thighs that have proven to be more indestructible than Kryptonite and …. -- as soon as I get on roll like that I try catch mind and I begin to be kind and gentle on myself and be grateful for all my blessings.
I stand back and say, I am thankful for having two arms to bear hug my friends with and two healthy legs to run marathons with and teeth to eat vanilla birthday cake with and a heart that has the capacity to love something in just about everyone and that my heart has the capacity to feel love.
Quite often my boyfriend tells me he fell in love with me because I am kind and thoughtful. After the 789th time it finally sank in and I relief washed over me! I don’t have to be Real Housewives of Beverly Hills dressed to be loved, I can just be me, and I can be real.
As happens, time will take its toll and our faces will change our skin will soften and our toes will curl. Our body will change; fashions and trends will fade away and so will suit we wear. As our outside fades our intentions, hearts and goodness will remain real.
“Real isn't how you are made. It’s a thing that happens to you. It doesn't happen all at once. You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.” - Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit
If we can wrap our minds around the notion that what is real and significant is the way we treat people and the way we love, then I think we’d all breathe a little easier and our egos wouldn’t be so easily threatened.
Razzle dazzle is all well and good; in fact, I am a big proponent of it! I love nothing more than gold bangles and a cute summer dress and really high heels. I think we should all be comfortable being ourselves no matter where we fall on the glitz and glamour spectrum. We should be proud of who we are on casual Wednesdays and be proud of who we are on date night Fridays. I believe in a safe space for all of us, where we can all be our authentic selves with confidence and pride and be real.