Reclaiming Power at a Coffee Shop

Somewhere along the way we told her to quiet down. We dimmed her light. We blew out her flames. We offered up parts of her to anyone who wanted her, and slowly traded in freedom for safety. We allowed her to be chiseled away in little tiny pieces until one day we looked around and saw nothing but rubble. And then on another day, we woke up and realized it's time to put her back where she belongs. The place that housed her might look different than it used to, but in the end we'll build something new… a new place she can call home.

---

There was time during my divorce process where things went a little… sideways. There was a time, probably several, where I felt like I had no power in the situation. Or maybe I gave that power up. Either way, at times it all felt a little… sideways. At one particular sideways point, my ex-husband started being around a whole lot more. I no longer spend the energy trying to figure out why he did what he did, but I can tell you what I did and did not do. And this particular day, I slammed my car in park, walked in to a coffee shop, word vomited to a friend who happened to be in the right place at the wrong time, and I gave up a whole lot of my power. My ex began insisting on riding along for daycare drop off. Parents, you know that already annoying part of the day where you're rushing to get kids fed, dressed in cleanish clothes, and out the door when undoubtedly one shoe is missing and you forgot it was dress up day to celebrate some arbitrary holiday, like Groundhog's day. Meanwhile, you're sweating off your freshly applied makeup and just trying to get to work without someone smearing yogurt on your last pair of clean pants. And if you've ever gone to work with yogurt smeared on your black dress pants, you know how unfortunate this is. This simple act of him insisting on riding along was maddening to me for a few reasons, but any dual-parent household knows that there's no good reason why both parents need to be involved in this magical, blessed part of the day.

But he did.

Every. Single. Day.

And one day I'd had enough. On this day, we dropped kids off at daycare, got back in the car, and he said something to me that must have pushed a button. I don’t remember what it was, but I turned in to a complete child myself and thought, "Fine, he just HAS to come along for drop off and ruin my morning… I'll show him. I'm going to stop and get a coffee. Yeah! That'll teach him." Ok, that's not actually what I thought to myself, but in hindsight that's the only logical thing that comes to mind: object lesson via coffee shop. So I pulled in to a local coffee shop, slammed the car in to park, walked in and took my sweet mother loving time. I happened to see a friend and have absolutely no idea what I said to her, but I know it wasn't good. I was literally shaking with anger, and frustration, and… not an ounce of power left in me. I thought I could really stick it to the man by stopping for a coffee?? I know what you're thinking: why not just have him take the kids to daycare instead? Why not speak up and do any one of fifty other things? Because.. I had nothing left in me that day. No fight, no emotional maturity, and no power. Fast forward a few years and the divorce is well behind us. I'd been wanting to relocate and move out of the area, but knew there was no chance in hell the ex-husband was going to be supportive of me bringing my three little humans with me. Yet one day I decided to talk to him about it, throw it out there, and just see how it went. So… I invited him for coffee. Yep. THAT coffee shop. The coffee shop I stopped at when my object lesson via coffee shop happened. It wasn't actually on purpose, just one of those fun synchronicity moments I noticed later. We sat down, we talked, I told him what I wanted, and he said no. Of course he did. He also creatively heard only one thing in that entire conversation and twisted my words in to something other than what actually came out of my mouth. Of course he did. I quickly recognized I probably wasn't going to get the blessing to relocate that I'd wanted. Ya think? But, along with my four-shot espresso dopamine hit, I did get something else that morning: a little bit more of my power back. You know, that power I gave away all those years ago in the same damn coffee shop. I didn't engage when he threw a verbal punch. I didn't fire back with my usual automatic word bullets. And most importantly, I let his attempts at throwing darts fall to the floor and didn't absorb the blow from a single one of them. I walked out of that coffee shop knowing I most definitely didn't get his support in my decision to move, but I got something a little more important at that moment: my mother effing power. I realized months after MY object lesson via coffee shops that I'd reclaimed a little more of my personal power that day. For some people I imagine they're able to reclaim that power quickly and in one big cataclysmic event. But I have come to understand that I had been reclaiming my power little by little, bit by bit, over the last few years. And THAT is a beautiful thing to understand. Perhaps reclaiming our power simply means showing up, speaking our truth, and allowing the rest to be what it will be.

---

And that, my sweet friend, is where we reclaim. Where we take it back. Where, little by little, we listen to the subtle nudging of the deepest, truest parts of ourselves. We hear that nudging, and we speak our truth. We may not get the outcome we wanted and, in fact, we may get the exact opposite. But in that moment, the moment we speak our truth, our power returns to the core of who we are and settles back in where she belongs. And so, I've come to understand once again, that it's not necessarily about the outcome… it can simply be an opportunity to reclaim some small part of ourselves that we once gave away. Call your power home. Reclaim her. And when she nestles back in to that quiet place inside of you, you'll once again start to feel her fire in your belly. Let that fire warm you, let her burn.