Sunday is just a few days away. And we want to make sure you have what you need. Catherine created a free guide called "Getting Through Mother's Day When Your Heart Is Heavy." It covers what you might be feeling and why it's completely normal, how to plan the day intentionally, a self-compassion journaling exercise, and where to find support. DOWNLOAD YOUR MOTHER'S DAY GUIDE Catherine is also hosting a "Mother's Day Check-in" for those navigating a painful Mother's Day. Real conversation. A safe space: 🗓️ Friday May 8, 2026 at 8:30pm EST/ 5:30pm PST You don't have to explain yourself to anyone this week. You just have to show up, here, with us, exactly as you are. 🙂

Hello! I'm starting today on this journey to better understand and participate in my daughter's lives.

My daughter sent me a message on Sunday night about her dad ( who is an alcoholic) " I know my Dad is drinking again. He keeps calling me and hate not to answer the phone, but he only calls me when he is drinking. I can't have this stress in my life. Her dad and I are divorced. I responded to her in a text " Thinking of you, I know this situation with your dad is heartbreaking, Watching him struggle is awful and okay to feel angry and sad about it.. I need to remind you and myself, that we cannot control his addiction. It is a disease, but we cannot help him until he is ready to help himself. Please make sure you are setting boundaries to protect your heart . You are not responsible for fixing this, I love you" She responded with a heart and said I love you, Mom.

My daughter is an attorney so argues for a living. :) I shared this with my daughter when I felt she was “case building” with me … aka “attacking” … It’s a post I saw that deeply resonated with me … "What My Silence Really Means" When I go quiet, it’s not because I’m fine. And it’s not because I’ve stopped caring either. It usually means I’ve reached a point where there’s nothing left to say that hasn’t already been said. I’ve tried talking. I’ve tried explaining. But when words don’t lead anywhere, silence feels easier. It’s not about giving up, it’s about realizing you can’t make someone understand what they don’t want to. My silence means I’m tired. Not the kind of tired that sleep fixes, the kind that comes from always defending myself or trying to be heard. After a while, you just stop trying. It also means I’m accepting things for what they are. Some people won’t change. Some situations won’t get better. And some endings are just meant to happen, even if you weren’t ready for them. These days, I don’t want to explain myself over and over. I don’t want to argue about things that should be simple. I just want peace, even if it means being misunderstood. So if you notice I’ve gone quiet, don’t take it as coldness. It’s not anger. It’s not attitude. It’s just me trying to protect my peace, to stop fighting things that only drain me. My silence doesn’t mean I’ve stopped feeling, it means I’m finally letting go of what hurts.