When I was younger, I used to be complimented on my light-footedness. I could even accidentally sneak up on people because they couldn’t hear me walk. It was something I took pride in — I thought it was feminine.

It was only later that I realised it was a result of constantly being told to be quiet as a kid. My mom used to tell me quite often, “Stop stomping so loudly!”

When I was on the RYME-retreat in Morocco, I had trouble surfing. I kept falling off the board, because somehow I wasn’t able to plant my feet down when standing up. I’d lose my balance, because I couldn't help standing on my tippy toes.

In hindsight I realised all of this was the perfect metaphor for how I was navigating life at the time — by tiptoeing around, scared to step on any toes or disturb someone’s peace.

And the result of that? Losing my ground often. Falling overboard.

That all changed after Morocco.

It took some time and a lot of practice, but I started planting my feet in the ground when I walked, talked, took up space. It changed my physique, my outlook on life, my consciousness — everything.

I navigate life grounded in my own space now. What a breath of fresh air, now that I’m not constantly falling and tumbling in the water anymore.

It’s true, I still fall now and then, but I easily find my footing and just move with the flow.

Although I have to admit I still spook myself now and then when I walk so loudly I can hear the furniture rumbling, haha.

Something else happened.

When walking with my mom recently, she told me something that shook me to my core. She said, out of the blue, “I regret the way I handled certain things when you were younger.”

This in itself was huge for her, admitting such a thing to me. Then she continued, “I admire the way you do things in your parenting choices. I think I could learn a lot from that. I wish I had that knowledge back then.”

I was so shocked by this that I didn’t immediately respond. Partly because I was surprised, and partly because I wasn’t met with relief, but with a deep sense of grief and anger for the youth I didn’t have.

Also, I felt a strong, rooted response to immediately start soothing her, and to tell her she had been a great mom.

I considered all this for a minute and then told her what felt true: “You know, now that I am a mom, I understand so much better how hard parenting is sometimes. How on some days you do the best you can in that moment, and still regret your behaviour at the end of the day. It can be really tough.”

She, in turn, told me how relieved she was to hear me say that I understood it better now.

It’s funny, because my mom recently told me about my toddler, “He is such a little stomper, that one! He just walks incredibly loud!”

I just smiled and thought to myself what an amazing metaphor this was again; for the cycle that is now broken.

She didn’t change at all, my mom, and yet she changed in so many ways.

I am really proud of her.

And I am really proud of me.

- Romy