When the People We Love Stretch Us the Most

Marriage, motherhood, partnership — none of it is random. It’s here to change us.

“Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.” ~ Carl Jung

The Unseen Role

There are days I want to slip out of the role I somehow ended up playing — 

The one who notices. The one who initiates. 

The one who holds it all (mentally, emotionally) together.

Not leave my life. Not abandon love. 

Just rest from the weight of always having to name what no one else sees.

Even when we’re laughing. Even when they’re helping. I still feel it underneath:

It’s not us carrying this life. It’s me — with them willing to assist.

And there’s a part of me — the part that’s growing, stretching, cracking open — that aches to be met by someone who sees it on their own.

The Invitation Inside the Conflict

But here’s what I keep learning: 

Whatever is surfacing — the tension, the reactivity, the invisible labor — is not random. 

It’s the invitation.

Not to fix the other person. 

Not to shut down what hurts. 

But to let what’s buried rise to the surface and be witnessed.

That’s the only way it can move.

What Homeopathy Has Taught Me

In homeopathy, we don’t push symptoms down. 

We ask, what’s the body trying to say?

We track the pattern, not the pain. 

We welcome the return of old symptoms not as regression, but as progress — proof that the body is healing in the right direction.

Relationships work the same way.

They surface the old beliefs. 

The unmet needs. 

The roles we never wanted but somehow inherited.

And when the symptoms show up in your home — in your body, in your kids, in the way your partner deflects or disappears — it’s not proof you’re doing something wrong.

It’s proof that something is trying to shift.

When You’re the Mirror

Sometimes the people we live with reflect back what we’re strong enough to see now. 

The part of us that still wants to be rescued. Or be right. Or understood without asking.

Sometimes your child won’t speak to you. 

Sometimes your partner can’t hear you until you contort your language into something soft enough not to trigger his shame.

Sometimes it feels like everything in the house is shouting and you’re the only one listening.

But that doesn’t mean you’re broken.

It means something is ready to change. Because you can see it.

The Direction of Cure

We think healing should feel good. 

That a good marriage, a good child, a good anything should trigger us less over time.

But what if the trigger is the medicine?

What if the heat is what tells us where to look next?

In healing, we don’t force a body to let go of pain. 

We create the conditions. We offer the remedy. 

And then we wait — trusting that the intelligence of the system knows what to do next.

Marriage is no different. 

Motherhood is no different. 

Living with others is no different.

You don’t manipulate someone into meeting you. 

You don’t contort yourself into someone who doesn’t feel what she feels.

You tell the truth — not to be fixed, but so you can stop pretending it doesn’t matter.

And if you’re in that space — stretched, unseen, in the swirl of other people’s pain — it doesn’t mean you’re stuck.

It means the old shell is cracking.

It means the portal has opened.

If you’re in the middle of the portal — you’re not alone.

We all are.

And if you want help making sense of what you’re finding, reach out.

I’d love to help pull you through it.

In service to the highest good,

Lindsay

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