I cried at yoga this morning.
I allowed myself to fully crack open.
It was all very unexpected.
At the beginning of class, our instructor was talking about the power of names - both to shape our identity and the ways in which we are shaped BY our names.
My name is Mary Allison, after both of my grandmothers. Mary = bittersweet; Allison = truth. Bittersweet truth. I’ve always thought that was a little depressing... but as I moved through yoga class today, it suddenly became so clear that my name has been my mission all along. Hidden in plain sight.
I believe from the depths of my soul that I was given the divine assignment to heal the pain of the generations that came before me, in order to leave my daughters with a different legacy. To do that, fully, I have to speak my truth. There are people who won’t like that; that happens when you tell the truth. And there are times when the truth will be painful. Bittersweet truth.