As we come upon the 4th year of losing our beautiful boy, I am struck by what I started to feel Labor Day weekend. A deeper ache, a more tender heart, tears more at the surface. 

But it was a small strange wave until it slammed into October.

October 1st something clicks inside my body and soul in a different way.

Because this is what the waves of grief look like for me.

I don’t think of grief in stages anymore. I think of them as waves or rhythms–ebbs and flows, raging storms and gentle rains and everything in between–some all in the same hour. And sometimes like wake surfing, which has been one of the most healing practices in my life, the best thing I can do is not get stuck in my head, not try to resist or “figure it all out” but let myself just honor the wave. 

Feel what needs to be felt.

Fall down.

Get back up when the time is right.

Trust my body and soul will do what it needs to do.

Make space.

Keep practicing. 

Everyone out there who’s lost a child knows that we’re forever altered, the hole in our souls and our families can never be filled. Every single day for the rest of our lives we will be riding the waves of grief. 

For me, our family, October is choppy, bumpy, unpredictable waters, riding waves of grief we wish we didn’t have to.

I know so many of you are, too, in all different kinds of ways. Grief is definitely a bumpy ride.

And, damn, we miss our kid– his light, his love, his wild, his free. 

#griefhasnorules #deepbreaths 

The post waves of grief. appeared first on Kathy Escobar.

And, thankfully, how there are amazing men of all ages and faith expressions and life realities who are actually bringing goodness to the people, organizations, families, and relationships they are in. 

I know so many of them! And I am deeply grateful for the healing that has come from being in relationship with them. 

We need more men who heal and not harm.

Who do their internal work.

Who are smart enough to listen to wisdom from beyond themselves. 

Who affirm, encourage, and sacrifice their egos & positions on behalf of others.

Who keep learning.

Who keep listening.

Who keep growing.

Who keep practicing, stumbling, bumbling, and humbling.

Who lead with love. 

Who help some of us heal the wounds of our fathers and our faith.

We need more men who heal and not harm.

This father’s day, I am holding all of us with conflicting feelings of loss & pain & grief.  May we honor those wounds in any way we need.

And, also—if it’s possible this season to celebrate the men in our lives who have some how, some way, helped us heal, grow, lead, love, be free. 

While I’ve got an ugly list of harms by men over my 56 years, there are also many who have helped me heal. I married one, I made four, my dad’s last 4 months changed me forever, and I have a tender and beautiful list of male friends whose faithful and true and healthy presence in my life and story has formed and strengthened me and helped me keep on keeping on. 

Grateful for that today. 

Here’s to more men that heal. 

The world sure does need them.

Love from Colorado today.

#fathersday #thepracticeofhealing

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All this week I’ve been thinking of everyone who is churny & sad this week. 

Who are bracing for impact. 

Who miss their mamas (or don’t)

Who wanted to be one. 

Who walks by the Mother’s Day card aisle with their head down. 

Who hates social media.

Who are wrestling with longing, regret, shame, anger, loneliness and all kinds of real emotions that surface in new ways this time of year. 

Who feel guilty for feeling happy. 

Oh, Mother’s Day. 

My friend Angie Fadel has helped a lot of us with a process of making mantras that we need for certain seasons–just a simple statement that reminds us of the truth, that helps strengthen us, and let sink into our bodies & souls in any way we can. For me this year it’s: “I can make space to hold it all.” 

For 2023, I decided that the Saturday (today) before Mother’s Day I can feel all the feels just about Jared. Grief has no freaking rules and it roars this weekend. It doesn’t have to stop on Sunday, but–tomorrow–I am making more room to let in the love and care of my living kids & others who i mom. 

I can make space to hold it all and make it through Mother’s Day.

All of our situations are so different about this day, and I’m wondering what you need to make it. Maybe it’s: “I did the best I could”, “I am enough.” , “This is my story.” , “This wound does not define me.” , “I am paving a new legacy.” , “I can hold this pain.”

Bottom line: Do whatever you need to make it through Mother’s Day.

Riding the wave with you.

#mothersday #griefhasnorules #paradoxing

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I’m Kathy Escobar! I’m a community cultivator and a change catalyzer. I believe in the power of human connection and that healthier people make healthier families, communities, and systems. I help create safe and brave spaces for transformation and healing for individuals and teams in real life, online, and outside.

I’m passionate about creating inclusive spaces centered around people who are marginalized. I believe in equity, justice, relationships, transforming communities, healing in nature, recovery, and tangible practices.

I am a trained spiritual director, speaker, author, group facilitator, and advocate for people and systematic change in creative ways. As a co-founder and co-pastor of The Refuge, a hub for healing community, social action, and creative collaboration, I love to be in the nitty gritty of the human experience. I love to help expand dreams for communities.

Through facilitated experiences, consulting, retreats, and workshops, I work with individuals and teams to cultivate healing and catalyze change.

My husband, Jose, and I are co-directors and founders of #communityheals: Making Spaces for Transformation Accessible for all. #Communityheals is a non-profit organization which includes some of our favorite passions – creating healing community on the water and in the mountains through #waterheals: Water Sports Empowerment for the Soul and #beautyheals: Rest and Renewal for Weary Souls. We also have four young adult kids who live around the United States. In 2019 we lost our youngest son to suicide and know that grief has no rules; in all areas of our lives, we try to play our part in speaking honestly about our story so that others can as well.

In our fractured world, we need kindred spirits. We need people alongside us to help us heal and grow. We need creative collaborators to bring dreams into reality. We need tools and tangible practices that catalyze change in ourselves and the groups we’re a part of. We need community cultivators that bring us together and set us free.

This is what I love to do.

I can’t wait to connect with you or your group online, in real life, or outdoors!

Kathy’s Credentials

• Master’s Degree in Management, with an Emphasis in Organizational Development from JFK University
• Bachelor’s Degree in Organizational Communication from Pepperdine University
• Certificate in Spiritual Direction from Denver Seminary
• Nature-Based Ceremony and Rites of Passage Training with Somatic Wilderness Therapy Institute & Nature Knows

The post meet kathy appeared first on Kathy Escobar.

So how do you survive losing a kid?

It’s different for all of us, but here are a few things that come to mind for me today—

You keep breathing.

You get used to intermittent crying in stores, restaurants, meetings, parking lots, bathrooms, airplanes.

You learn how to crawl instead of walk.

You tell their stories.

You integrate WTF into your vocabulary.

You hug your living kids and loved ones longer.

You allow yourself moments where it is all still a dream and couldn’t possibly be real.

You randomly (and in the oddest moments) travel to a time where you remember what it was like to hold them in your arms, to feed them cheerios, to read them bedtime stories, to sit in the snow at their games, to throw their birthday parties, ground them, and buy them slurpees.

You stand in front of their pictures on the wall.

You sometimes look away when you walk by the same pictures because it hurts too much.

You make a lot of therapy appointments.

You quickly learn there’s no such thing as “getting through grief”,  only embracing its rhythms as part of forever.

You find others who know the feeling.

You brace yourself for death anniversaries & birthdays & holidays.

You find comfort in nature because it speaks without words.

You discover how many other people are surviving, too.

You let yourself feel feelings you thought would kill you but actually don’t.

You hear their voice cheering you on.

You re-remember every single day “oh, yeah, grief has no rules.”

You learn the art of practicing paradox.

You don’t wait to do things you really want to do. 

You pray with your feet.

You begin to own this is part of your story–but not the only story.

You remember what a gift it is, was, and will always be to get to be their mom.

You keep breathing.

One.day.at.a.time.

#griefhasnorules

The post how to survive losing a child appeared first on Kathy Escobar.

No matter our ages, my experience continues to be that we all have so many hard stories. For me, the deepest pain is the patriarchy’s pervasiveness (and often subtleness) all tangled up in almost every part of culture.

While I felt so grateful for our raw and real conversation, I also couldn’t help but notice that deep pit in my stomach, an ache as a mother wanting better for our future. 

The irony is that we had no idea when we went to bed that night, 15 hours ahead of Denver time, that we’d wake up to news of 50 years of progress and precedent blown up in a single conservative supermajority supreme court swoop.

It was leaked that it was coming, but reality is a brutal blow. 

Watching the hypocrisy of increasing federal gun rights and dismantling women’s rights in the same week, hearing people throw God’s name around as a victory march t(T)rump card, to be rejoicing brutal restrictions that directly harm communities of color and people without financial resources has caused so many of us to feel like Handmaid’s Tale isn’t so far off.  

It has also spurred a true fear of “what’s next?” especially for the LGBTQ+ community, whose basic human rights have been hard-won and now feel deeply fragile. 

While many are celebrating, it’s knocked many more of us to our knees. And yes, many of us are people of faith, too. 

It’s left so many terrified of what’s next. 

It’s made us feel sick about what Christianity has come to represent. 

It’s made us question, “What can we really do to change this course that appears to be picking up speed?” (I heard Glennon Doyle refer to this season of history as “The Great Backslide” and it describes the last chunk of years so well).

After years of writing publicly and advocating for equality, shifting power, untangling from the lies of white/Christian/male/straight/economic supremacy, and abortion—including my own when I was 17—I’m asking myself this question today in a new way: What’s my part to play now, with all my current limitations, in this Great Backslide?

We are not powerless.

This is not completely beyond us.

It can feel like it, but it’s so not. 

The great backslide doesn’t have to sweep us away, too.

There’s a whole bunch of humans across a multitude of differences and faiths and realities and experiences who can—and are—rising up together, not with a false or thready hope but rather a deep and prevailing commitment to create a more healthy, whole, free, and equitable society for everyone. Everyone. Every.one. Every one. 

That shouldn’t be that complicated but unfortunately it always has been.

Equity remains the path of most resistance because of its threat to oppressive power and control.

Despite this painful societal sliding back, together we can dig in our heels, anchor in what we know to be true, and make sure we’re not taken back, too.

It makes me think that a few things are needed right now to make it in this next season.

1. Grieve and ground. Anger, rage, fear, disorientation are all parts of grief; we can feel all the feels and also ground in our core values, what we know to be true, what we believe and why. We’ve got to let ourselves express the pain and find ways to stay healthy and rooted. 
2. Strengthen and empower womxn of all ages and experiences, in absolutely every way we can—check in, support, love, wonder about, fund, sponsor, encourage, buoy, hold space, catalyze, inspire, connect. 
3. Vote with ballots, feet, and funding.  Local and state laws matter. On-the-ground organizations who know what they’re doing need support, especially BIPOC-led ones. Leave communities that perpetuate unhealthy patriarchal power; they’ll never die until people quit going and giving to them. 
4. Play our unique part. I’m trying to not to look at what I should be doing based on the prevailing energy out there, but really consider—what is my particular part to play given who I am and where I’m at in my life and what I can offer. Each contribution matters, no matter how small or big. 
5. Nurture communal practices that sustain us (or, back to #1, together). They want us to break down, to give up, to submit, to shut up, to wear out, to let go, to splinter off. We’ve got to take care of ourselves and each other and utilize tools and strategies and spiritual and healing community practices that are subversive, embodied, connected, and resilient—the kind of wisdom women have always brought to the table. 

I will not go back.

We will not go back.

No, the great backslide will not take us with it. 

The post roe v. wade: the great backslide will not take us in it appeared first on Kathy Escobar.

I love hope.

But I know hope is dangerous, too.

It’s so easy to lose hope, especially when the kicks keep coming.

But I think it mostly prevails, too.

I think it’s a good thing to go into a new year cautiously, maybe more grounded into the truth of humanity, instead of the false idea that “we’re just around the corner of something easier…” (this has been very dangerous in my life and is always a sign that i’m on a track that probably is unrealistic and false.)

Human-ing is hard.

Living on this wild and crazy earth in fragile bodies and tender souls is somewhat of a miracle. 

I’m amazed at what human beings survive.

I’m amazed at how humans can keep going despite the worst possible things.

I’m amazed at how much good is in the world despite so much hard.

You, dear humans, are freaking amazing. 

It makes me cry this morning thinking of all of you beautiful brave people. 

surviving the worst possible things. 

living out your values despite the costs. 

caring for people in so many creative ways. 

fighting for freedom for others and finding it for yourself. 

breaking boundaries that need breaking.

fanning new faith into flame from embers.

healing from deep wounds.

grieving and living at the same time. 

advocating for and embodying change. 

trying to make jacked up systems better. 

practicing love when hate’s so much easier.

rising out of the ashes—literally and figuratively, again and again. 

So as we go into this new year cautiously, honestly, soberly, bravely, may tender hope prevail. 

May we be tender with ourselves.

May we be tender with others. 

May we be tender with the world.

Hope prevails and humans are incredible. 

The post hope prevails and humans are incredible. appeared first on Kathy Escobar.

We know so many amazing women who have been in relationship with them.

We know so many churches and non-profit organizations that have been ruined by them.

And we personally seen up close and personal the damage that they can do to our hearts, our souls, our lives, our faith, our futures.

Although blogging isn’t much of a thing anymore, a long time ago it was, and I definitely had a fun run at sharing out loud so many things stirring around in my heart and my head that others could be wrestling with, too. Still, after all these years, one of my most-viewed posts is a thing or two about narcissism (+ the church) from 2015. I am so grateful that more people are speaking out about the insidious of narcissism, there are more support groups and books and tools that help people find their way toward greater health and freedom after being tangled up with a narcissist, either in relationship or in an organization.

Today, I just felt like putting some of this in one place once again with one post that had some different textures on the conversations and realities about the ravages of narcissism.

This week’s podcast episode is a good start.

Plus, some other posts over the years, chronologically, are below (ps: I used to only write in lower case):

charisma, fairy dust, and our addiction to kings – 2012 (yeah, I’ve been talking about this for a long time, and while some things have changed, so much still hasn’t). “i have seen people willing to ignore affairs, horribly damaging power plays, crazy unhealthy leadership, and a ton of other flaws for the sake of getting a sunday morning charisma fix.”

abusive pastors and the crazy $(&*@#%! they get away with – 2013 (the particular pastor I refer to in this article, after many rises and falls, IS STILL trying to live off the backs of people who blindly follow him–it’s disgusting. “charisma causes us to lose our heads and turn a blind eye to abuse, control, and manipulation.”

don’t feed the narcissists – 2014 (“their best hope is to get starved out” – this principle is everything. Don’t feed the narcissists!

a thing or two about narcissism (+ the church) – 2015 “Some of you have been married to them. Some of you have been parented by them. Some of you have been pastored by them. You know what I’m talking about. You know the crazy-making. You know the emotional abuse, and sometimes the physical. You know the hero-worship and the “he would never do that’s”. You know the fear. You know the confusion. You know the exhaustion of always trying to keep the peace. You know the eggshells. You know what it feels like to be misunderstood, accused, tossed aside, ignored–not just by the narcissist, but by their churches and friends and colleagues and fans and followers. You. Know.”

abuse and christian obstacles to healing – 2016 “Think of these obstacles as a 30 foot high, 10 feet thick wall they have to carve through or claw over to get to the other side”

narcissism, power, and staying awake – 2016 “That’s the best way we can fight against narcissism–stay awake and refuse to believe them, follow them, or submit ourselves to them.”

narcissist are going to narcissist – 2018 “When we’re in relationship with a narcissist, we’re in the middle of a trauma, and it takes its toll.”

toxic systems – 2019 “If you are in a toxic system and are beginning to recognize it for what it is, may you can find courage over time to leave it. It will be scary, lonely, disorienting, but health is possible! “

In 2020 I didn’t write about narcissism, ha! But, oh, I still talked to so many people who worked for them, divorced them, broke up with them, and are trying to heal from their relationship with them.

Our podcast this week reinvigorated me to pull this post together, to just have all these things in one place. If you want to read more, please check out Diane Langberg’s work – She writes and speaks extensively on this, and this video is centered on Narcissism and the System it Breeds. She offers a solid overview of what so many people have experienced in church.

To all the beautiful, brave people who have already and are currently untangling from narcissists, my heart is always with you. You can’t win on their terms but ultimately you do because you get your soul back.

Love from Colorado today, Kathy

The post a thing (or 5) about narcissism appeared first on Kathy Escobar.

Of course we knew who Jared was–his bright light, enormous passion, incredible leadership, depth, creativity, love for people, his intensity and curiosity. 

But reading all these words and messages to Jared, to us–handwritten, typed, drawn, and lovingly shared–helped me remember in another healing way just how many people he touched with his goodness. 

How he helped other people live. 

How he helped other people love. 

How he helped other people feel loved. 

How he helped other people be more brave.

How he helped other people do dumb things, too.

There are three books worth, but here are some of the things that people wrote that made me smile, made me sob, made me feel in the deepest parts of my soul how grateful I am to be Jared’s mom. 

“Jared lived in techni-color!”

“Escobar was an intern when I high school leadered, and wanted to shower in my off time. Instead, he convinced me that showering was lame and we went on an amazing hike that changed my life and made me an intern.”

“Jared made it easier to be myself.”

“I only had the honor of meeting Jared once, but our conversation and his words have impacted me to this day. I promise to be kinder, wilder, and more curious in his honor.”

“Dear Jared, thank you for always being there for me. You would pull me out of the dark and pull me into the light. Thank you for being brave.”

“You already know this, but Jared was a lantern among candles…”

“When I think of Jared, I think of a trailblazer and a gift to us all…”

“Dear Jared…you took time from your own night and talked me down for hours from me taking my life, and I will cherish you forever for it…”

“Blazer and tie, Spiderman outfit, color coded days, fedora hat, tie dye, bandana headband. Whatever the fashion, you owned it! It did not matter what others thought. You were yourself.”  (+ WTF, Jared!) 

“A rainbow colored love that knew no boundaries, no borders, no classes. It included all, dignified all and loved all.”

“Jared radiated love, positivity, and kindness. He was a sunflower.”

“He was someone that truly saw people…”

“He was a light that allowed others to burn more bright.”

“He made class fun–made lunch fun. made talking fun. made walking fun. made sitting fun. made thinking fun. made learning fun. made life fun”

 “Jared might not have changed the world, but he certainly changed mine. Because of him I live a little more boldly, laugh a little harder, and love a whole lot harder. I am truly grateful I got to feel Jared’s warmth and light.” 

There are three incredible books filled with sentiments like this.

In the coloring book we created in his honor thanks to the incredible artistic talent of another dear Refuge friend, some of the quotes Jared shared are illuminated (If you want one, they’re free here).  I think of so many of them through each and every week:

“Everything is better outside.”

“People need love to show love.”

“Be interested, not interesting.”

“Be comfortable being uncomfortable.”

“Have fun having fun.”

“You can’t change the world, but you can change someone’s world.”

And the one that has sustained us for the past 2 years each and every day, that was tattooed on his leg and is now on Jose’s as well and we circle back to when we try to figure out what happened that tragic morning–”I don’t know.”

“I don’t know.”

There are things we’ll never know. No amount of circling, dwelling, assuming, presuming, make it all make sense-ing will help us know why he left this way and didn’t reach out to the countless people he could have. 

But there are, indeed, things we DO know in addition to grief having no rules:

Jared was a true and beautiful gift to our family. He was amazing and annoying and everything in between, and the 6 of us–me, Jose, and his 4 incredible siblings–are so grateful for every memory. 

Jared brought an incredible amount of good to the world in his 19, almost 20 short years. It’s freaking inspirational.

Jared inspires us to live more freely, more fully, more boldly, more present-ly, more wildly, more deeply. 

Thanks, kid.

Surviving suicide sucks, but we’ll keep on keeping on, paradox-ing as best we can. We know you loved that word, too. 

The post “You can’t change the world, but you can change someone’s world” – Jared Luke Escobar, 11/11/99 ~ 10/28/19 appeared first on Kathy Escobar.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how exhausting it feels to work so hard on COVID safety for so long for The Refuge, how we’ve played our part, how we’ve done all we could do to ensure that we didn’t just focus on ourselves but on the wider community as well. How we made sacrifices on behalf of each other and our neighbors and worked our tails off to find creative solutions for people to get vaccinated. 

And yet, here we are—fully masked again, rolling backwards, faced with a fall that requires the next level of creativity and commitment that is, frankly, more than just tiring.

It feels sad.

Sad that we just suck at interdependence. 

Independence, personal freedoms, Not In My Backyard NIMBY-ism, we know better than all the people who have dedicated their lives and their educations to certain subjects, trite God’s-got-me’isms, science isn’t real until I need some medical care, and “those people” around the world have always had problems and there’s nothing we can do to fix it. 

It’s always been present in our culture, in our churches, in our society. 

But now, faced with the biggest global health crisis in over 100 years, it’s revealed more than ever. 

I know I can’t change certain minds.

I know no matter how many things I posted or said or tried to put out into the world, it wouldn’t shift things much.

I know it sometimes feels futile.

Yet, still, I believe in every part of my soul that it’s worth the work to work on cultivating, creating, practicing, doing everything possible to nurture interdependence in the places we can.

Our freedom is all tied up together.

What happens across the world to women and children is happening to us.

Our inability to battle COVID is reliant on all of us, or at least more of us, truly making sacrifices for each other—especially the most vulnerable—our children, our friends and family fighting serious diseases that keep them frightfully at risk. 

Our faith isn’t just personal. It is supposed to have legs that walk toward the most vulnerable and offer support, care, and compassion. 

The early Christian church, before it got religi-fied in the same way that Jesus was railing against, was and is one of my favorite examples of what true interdependence could look like, feel like, be. 

Indigeneous cultures have a one-ness, an interconnectedness, a relationship with the earth and each other embedded in their practices and beliefs, that we could learn so much from 

But interdependence requires something that we’re not the best at—humility. 

Needing each other. Bending our knee for each other. Making sacrifices for each other. Respecting our shared humanity. Shifting our in-grown eyeballs to a world crying out for hope, support, care. 

Recognizing the small part we play in a bigger story.

I can’t make people do things I want them to do.

I can’t yell loud enough, cry hard enough, do most anything to convince people of something that they just can’t be convinced about.

But here’s what I can do, we can do, if we are stirred to do it–

Practice interdependence.

Play our part in caring for the most vulnerable.

Keep doing what’s right for our planet even when we wonder if it makes a dent.

Keep sharing stories about real humans in need and do what we can to support them.

Keep holding our umbrellas up in the middle of the storm because even if only a few people are protected, it’s better than being left in the rain.

Keep borrowing hope from each other because we’re going to need some to last. 

Thank the earth for holding us.

Thank the people in our lives who are working hard to help us last.

Cultivate collaborations even when it takes a little more energy.

Notice God in strange places that help us not lose faith in humanity. 

Keep doing the next right thing no matter if it feels like it matters because it does. 

What we do matters for each other.

Oh, humans and interdependence.

We can do so much better.

The post we suck at interdependence. appeared first on Kathy Escobar.