14 Apr I was negelected and maybe you were too-you have an opportunity to be revived (May 3rd retreat info)
You were neglected.
I had never thought of my childhood through that lens. I never went hungry or didn’t have clothing. I always had a home.
Yet when my therapist said it—You were neglected—something that had been floating around in my inner Tetris game found a space where it dropped in and fit perfectly.
I was neglected.
My physical needs were met, but my emotional needs were not. I endured very stressful situations with no emotional support.
I woke up one morning, and my mom was gone, taken to the hospital in the night with a life-threatening brain tumour. I went on with my Saturday. My dad woke me up in the night, weeping on my chest, saying his wife was going to die the next day.
My job was to sit in my parents’ bedroom and call their siblings—ten in all—to update them on my mom’s dire situation. Only one asked why I was calling and not my dad.
We went to the hospital to see her and said goodbye.
No comfort. Just endure the inner pain and keep moving on.
The only person who might have otherwise tended to us was gravely ill.
We endured, slogging through our days.
My dad didn’t even know how to cook, so I, at nine, decided to take that on.
We all endured amidst that time of emotional neglect.
In my first marriage—21 years old, married (part of the culture I came from, in case your jaw is dropping), and pregnant shortly after (again, a cultural norm)—my husband, after I asked if he wanted to have coffee with me (something I cherished from our dating days), said:
“We’re married now. We don’t sit on a couch and chat.”
I quietly went back to our bedroom, folded our laundry, and tucked that desire away. And he stayed true to his word. Not until we were talking about the terms of our divorce 18 years later did he bring it up:
“Are you happy now? We’re finally having coffee and talking.”
I think of what life was like when my children were babies.
I carried 90% of the childcare load.
This is not a pity party for Leona. That’s the very last thing I want. The thought of that repulses me and makes me crumple.
This is about awareness. Awareness of who we are and what’s contributed to who we have become.
I said to my current husband on our morning walk, “What we endure certainly makes us resilient.” And that’s true. That’s the gritty gift in all of this. This awareness of what was neglected helps me uncover the deeper treasure—the meaning in the madness and the neglect.
I pruned parts of myself to stay small and safe, so I could handle the stress.
I developed patterns of behaviour that helped me survive those dark times.
I learned to sacrifice my own needs for others.
I learned to do what I was told without asking for anything more.
Because of gut-wrenching despair at times, I lobbed off pieces of me—like an arborist trimming off branches that don’t fit in the environment it’s been planted in.
It worked.
I came through strong and resilient and packaged in a way that made me more presentable for the situations that life brought me.
Only now, I wonder: What beautiful, vibrant parts of me got cast aside?
They have not died. They’ve merely been muted or folded up in a box, hidden away with their potential locked with them. Those places grow restless over time—wanting to be rediscovered and brought back to life with some compassion and curiosity.
What I lost along the way was my voice.
I muted myself—my agency and my sovereignty.
Sovereignty is the capacity to fully own my inner authority—the right to speak, choose, and act from a place of my truth.
This awareness is not so much sad or disappointing.
It feels empowering.
Because now, I can own all of me and all of my story. I can choose to own me—all of me.
And that’s what I feel J.O.Y. is:
Just Own You.
That gets all of me excited—knowing there’s power in our pain.
We have a choice. To become better, not bitter. We can reclaim all of us.
I, at this moment, am working hard to be free to be me—all of me.
I want that for all of us.
I want all the beauty and treasures that we’ve locked away to come forward—in freedom and in truth.
I am doing that and want to help you do that, too.
If you’re close to me in Calgary, join me and other women for the Free to Be Me Retreat— See below for more info
Or give yourself a gift.
I offer five complimentary 30-minute coaching calls a month where we can reconnect to your truth, rediscover your voice, and find life-changing joy. Book here: book.leonadevinne.com
Or, if you want space to relax and reflect, join me in The Womb—a monthly hour to reflect, reconnect, and reset in a quiet and safe space with mindfulness, journaling, and reflective practices. The next session is April 27th at 1 pm. Register here https://us02web.zoom.us/meeting/register/1eLDJsdCS0-e7GieISukFQ You can watch the February session here
If you can’t make it live, sign up anyway, and I’ll send you the recording.
Thank you for being part of this journey, and if these emails are not connecting for you, please scroll down and hit unsubscribe.
Lots of love,
Leona
P.S.Retreat Info May 3, in person Calgary 9-4:30 pm
$229.00-can be paid over a number of payments
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