Because matrescence changes everything.
Where mental health meets the magic and complexity of becoming a mother.
Welcome. I’m so glad you’re here.
What is Matrescence, you may ask?
I’m so glad you asked. Matrescence, as Jessie Harrold of MotherShift defines it:
Matrescence is “the physical, emotional, psychological, relational, and spiritual reorganization of a person as they become a mother.”
That’s some big upheaval and reorganization, you might notice. Kind of like… all the things. And you might be feeling that right now, mama.
All the things you used to take for granted or felt easeful and accessible may now be so far out of reach they might as well be in Tibet. That’s what we are about here at All The Mama Therapy: Addressing how - all the things - change in and for mamas and maybe bring us to a deep dive in therapy or other supportive spaces.
A bit about Colleen:
This space is born of my own postpartum journey.
Though I had all the tools as a therapist with 10 years of experience, was a yoga instructor, had the “knowledge” and a support network … I got caught in a deep current of postpartum anxiety and depression. It was the hardest season of my life. I know what it feels like to be in that dark space, mama. I know how scary, how lonely, how consuming it can be. And the shame that lives there with you.
It’s not what you pictured, and that’s scary and deeply distressing. And it’s hard to talk about it - It’s hard to let others see what is actually true on the inside.
I would be so honored to be one safe place as you weather this storm, mama. I would be honored to at least say “me too” and hold out a virtual cup of tea.
I hope here we can try to rediscover the joy and magic in motherhood and in the world, mama.
I hope here we can find pockets of peace, spaces of joy, a balm for the places that feel shame and a rediscovery of what brings you life.
I mostly hope you feel a little less alone, mama.
Come as you are—tired, tender, curious, hopeful, at whit’s end—and let’s begin together to tease out the beauty, to seek out the joy, to hold tenderly the hurting parts.
I see you, mama. I would love to be a part of your journey as you find your way back to yourself.
With so much love and care,
Colleen
Support from a therapist who explores the magic, the grief, and the becoming of matrescence
All The Mama Therapy
Hi, I'm Colleen —Therapist-mama doing her best to find joy sprinkled in the midst of the chaos of early motherhood.
I’m a fellow-struggler and joy-seeker.
You’re not alone, mama, and I’m so glad you’re here.
Printable Matrescence Journal &
Rituals for Overwhelmed Mamas
I would love to send some whimsy your way!
Latest Blog Posts
This season is not meant to be journeyed alone— we all need each other.
{A Few} Invisibilities of Motherhood
The thrum of your becoming: you, housed inside.
My unassuming miracle: seen in tiny pulses, eddies and flows of movement dancing
across my torso.
The inaudible announcement of the female body – “Now. Now is the time to open, to
birth this life. Now, mama.”
The breaking, birthing, becoming, swirling, torrential experience of a mother born - as
she births.
The indescribable thrill of holding her tiny body.
The indescribable pain of all that is required, all that has changed and is changing, all
that is no more.
The invisibility in the healing, in the sleepless, the desperate, in the darkness,
the aloneness, the craving, in the too-muchness.
A tentative opening and acceptance of this not-me-now-me – unfurling gravity of
becoming.
Your tiny laughter etched inside, an antidote to all that ails.
The hidden moments, alone: shame and the haunting fear that I am actually
doing it all wrong.
The thread tug you feel when you’ve strayed a bit beyond your comfort, looking back to
locate mama.
The magic number the scale will read when I feel “back to myself” again
The running to-do list in my mind, circling on repeat, revisiting, unrelenting.
Sacred snapshots lined up, a reservoir of memory :
You, just as you are now, immortal in my mind.
You, with wispy, wild hair, big grin, round cheeks and perfect lisp. You, clenching
two match cars, one in each hand. You, calling for me after your nap, your body
finding its well-worn place in my arms: a ghost-sensation I will cling to. You,
running from the next room to place sticky hand on my chest when you hear me
cough. You. All of you, my boy.
You, convinced of your big-girl status at 6. Your new smirks, new hand-on-hip
stance, your love of gift-giving and dance. You, dazzling and bright, asking to be
seen and noticed, you live to perform. You, now, just as you are, my girl. Tangled
hair (battles chosen), mismatched socks, sparkle purse. You, big spirit, big heart.
You. All of you.
A sometimes gentle, sometimes life-threatening tug – from all sides: on time, attention, resources. Consuming all I have to give. Eroding a sense of self, separateness, personhood.
A breath-catching awareness of how dense the tiny nucleus of my life is - here, in this room, two tiny humans tucked in bed: everything. Everything.
Missing myself, even as I am right here. Missing myself. Missing myself.
Resources funneled outward by requirement. Internal world, a drought.
Whisper-to-roar messages entrap me, threatening to define what makes a mother and how she should behave.
White knuckling my way to ground I can stand on,
searching for an earth-trodden place I can recognize as my own.
On the outside: deceptively demure. Yet, a universe unfurls out of your view.
A world of invisibilities, a world unto each mother.
I came out from an hour long (felt like 2) bedtime-from-he(sounds like yell). And I felt like throwing things. (Ok, fine. I threw socks.) I knew I needed a place to channel my energy. I felt like running our the door and going on an aggressive run, putting all my angst and fear that - I’m doing it all wrong and how the he(hockeysticks) is it really this hard some days? - into something tangible, feeling it release. But it’s dark out and I didn’t really have the energy to put shoes on, so, instead, I did aggressive yoga.