I feel so unimportant! 😫

I can't believe how much this still takes me out

Every now and then, the news cycle gets the better of me, and woof, I’m feeling it right now. It makes my work seem small and unimportant.

You ever feel this way?

You know you have something to give the world, but it just doesn’t feel like enough, or it feels too hard and scary, and you’re not sure it’ll change much anyway. So, you just ignore it or distract yourself with cute cat videos online.

But you still wake up finding yourself wondering What am I doing? Is this all there is? I know I’m meant for more.

Luckily, my background in feminist philosophy has taught me that, “you’re not enough,” is false and a tool of oppressive control. Buddhist meditation has taught me to be with and honor my feelings, while recognizing that thoughts are just thoughts. Existentialism has taught me that while I can’t control what happens, I can control the story I tell and meaning I make out of what happens.

So I question my self-criticism, grieve for my country, and I reconnect with why I’m doing this work in the first place.

And right now, I’m doing this work because I believe the world needs more people to break free from this oppression system to do their most heart-centered work.

In short, The Bravely Examined Life is my work in the world to help you do your work in the world.

If you’re curious, schedule a conversation with me. We’ll talk about how you’re feeling, what you need, and a path toward your sacred work in the world.

Warmly,

Danielle

My word of the year is...

...drumroll please...

Every year, I choose a word or theme of the year to serve as a guidepost for my thoughts and decisions. In past years, I’ve explored Trust, Courage, Truth, Gratitude, and Generosity—ya know, typical philosophical virtues I wanted to cultivate in myself.

This year is something a little different.

This year, the word makes me really uncomfortable.

Honestly, I’m not even sure how to relate to it.

I selected this year’s theme because I found myself repeatedly bumping up against internal resistance to, well, good things happening in my life in 2025.

I realized that I’d started to subtly sabotage myself: When several agents said good things about my book as they declined to represent it, I stopped looking for someone who would. When thousands of people followed me on social media, I stopped posting and went into hiding. When several new clients signed on with me, I failed to send timely invoices.

I started to see a pattern arise. It was almost as if my fear of success was waging an internal war with my fear of failure. It was almost as if I couldn’t allow myself to accept what the world had to offer me.

So, this year, I plan to deeply explore what this is about.

And thus, my word for 2026 is…

Receive.

This word makes me squirm. It raises the specters of greed, selfishness, unworthiness, and laziness. It rolls its eyes at entitlement. It shames me for my unearned privileges. It asks who the hell I think I am.

I see the same things arise in my clients as they agree to receive a year of coaching from me and struggle to see themselves as “worth it.”

But as proven again and again with my clients, I know that if we change our relationships with receiving, it will yield not only more material success, but immense spiritual growth and an increased sense of freedom—the true thing I think we’re all after.

So bring on 2026. It will be a year of learning to hold and to be held.

Let’s do it together.

How are you at receiving? Please comment to this blog or write it in the comments on Substack!

On receiving, in a time of loss

A philosopher's reflection on what can't be taken

My word for 2026 is “Receive,” but it feels strange to talk about receiving when so much is being taken from us.

Here in the U.S., it seems like every day brings news of another freedom under threat, another right rolled back. And alongside that is the heartbreak of realizing how long so many people have already been living under brutal, unjust conditions.

Even those of us who have known a measure of safety and stability can feel like we are always bracing against loss.

Our time is swallowed by endless to-do lists. Our attention is siphoned off by screens and feeds. Our happiness is promised somewhere just over the horizon, always arriving later.

How—in this burning world—can we simply sit back and receive?

I am a philosopher and a word nerd, so I approached this question by first looking at definitions.

The word “receive” has two Latin roots: re-, meaning “back,” and capere, meaning “to take.” To receive, quite literally, is to “take back,” to reclaim something that was already ours.

I think this etymology offers a clue.

I suspect that what we are being asked to receive is not something that can be earned, optimized, or hustled for. It’s not the promotion, the book deal, the picture-perfect home decor.

It’s not even a just and equitable society. We can see that’s not being freely given.

What we are called to receive is something that can never truly be taken from us: a felt sense of love and belonging in this world.

It is a knowing that we are worthy, regardless of what we have or don’t have, do or don’t do.

I suspect that grounding into our sense of enoughness is how we regain our power to inhabit the lives of our dreams—not just the ones we’re supposed to want—both for ourselves and our world.

I have seen in my own life that, paradoxically (and all truth seems to live in paradox), when I feel like enough just as I am, the easier it becomes to do work, make changes, and achieve goals, because I can feel that my value comes from a deeper place.

And still, knowing this and living it are very different things.

How do we actually feel like enough?

That question has shaped decades of my life.

I didn’t find the answer in a single insight or affirmation, but through practices—ways of relating to myself, my body, my work, and the world—that slowly, quietly changed how it feels to be alive.

If this question feels alive for you, I’ll be sharing some practices that helped me find my way in a free webinar called Feel Like Enough: A Feminist Path to Belonging Beyond Achievement.

You’re very welcome to join us.

What a ski instructor knew about my life that I didn't

It wasn't really about snowboarding

I once learned a critical life lesson from a snowboarding instructor known as the Snow Whisperer.

It was April, and I’d been asked to fill in as a chaperone for the final week of the skiing and snowboarding program at the high school where I was teaching, serving underserved youth.

Problem was, all of the students had been learning to carve down Mt. Hood on their skis and snowboards for weeks, and I — a girl raised on the Great Plains — had never once strapped my feet into a snowboard.

While the other students had long graduated to the real slopes, I was still struggling to figure out how to stay upright on the bunny hill.

One of the program instructors took pity on me and called over his colleague to help. “He’s the Snow Whisperer. You’re in good hands now.”

And so, I found myself getting an hours-long, free, private lesson from the Snow Whisperer.

Snowboarding was a far cry from my usual day-to-day — teaching at a high school job I disliked, taking care of my toddler, and sobbing on the couch, convinced that my career was over, that I had irreparably blown my life, that I would never be happy again.

The year before, I’d spent five days in a psych hospital with postpartum psychosis. I'd been so anxious about failing as a mother — convinced I was screwing up my baby and damaging her developing psyche — that I hadn't been able to sleep. I’d paced the living room at two in the morning so often that my vision—and my mind—became blurry and smeared.

“You’re trying to rush it,” the Snow Whisperer said, demonstrating how I was tipping forward over my board.

He was a squat, middle-aged man with sun-tanned skin and a broad smile, who quickly diagnosed my problem. “You gotta relax.” He leaned back into an easy pose.

I tried to adjust my posture, doing what he said.

“Okay, but if you try to control it too much, you’re gonna fall,” the Snow Whisperer said. He encouraged me to shake loose, breathe, and start again. “Let the mountain come to you.”

I gave him a wry smile. If he only knew.

Over the course of the next few hours, I took the Snow Whisperer’s advice.

I breathed. I loosened. I trusted that the mountain would come to me.

By the end of the day, not only was I off the bunny hill and cutting my way down the mountain, but there was a lightness in my chest I had not felt in months.

There’s a real value in not getting up over our skis—or snowboards, as it were—and trusting that we can actually be more successful if we can just relax and receive.

In what ways could you let the mountain come to you? Just hit reply to this email, and let me know, and I—a real live human—will read it!

The holiday that asks too much of everyone

On receiving the gift you didn't ask for

While I am always tempted to rant about the politics of Mother’s Day—otherwise known as the holiday in which the capitalist patriarchy reduced what was meant to be a day of collective action for the benefit of mothers to a consumerist flowers-and-brunch-buying day (I couldn’t resist. See here or here for a more complete rant)—this year, I am thinking about a different set of reasons this holiday can be complicated so many of us.

My theme this year is “Receive,” and chances are, there were lots of things you needed or wanted as a kid and didn’t receive from your mother.

Maybe it was her attention and understanding; maybe you craved more play, silliness and joy; maybe it was her very presence that you didn’t get. Capitalist patriarchy likely had a big role in all these absences too, by the way.

Nevertheless, if you’re like me, you may have spent a lot of time talking to your therapist about the negative impact of all the things you didn’t get from your mom. In many ways, it’s easier to focus on lacks, losses, and the ways that we have been victimized.

And yet, no matter our relationships with them, we are inextricably bound to our birth mothers. Because, whether we like it or not, our mothers have given us the biggest thing we could have ever received: our very existence.

For us, these women traveled to the mysterious realm where human beings come from—that sacred place as old as time, beyond culture and consciousness—and opened their own bodies as portals.

Each Mother’s Day (or Mothers’ Day, as it was originally intended) we are asked to acknowledge how much we’ve received.

We are asked to hold both of these truths at once: Our mothers didn’t give us enough, and they gave us everything.

Such complicated truths can feel not so comfy to sit in. Making brunch reservations is so much simpler.

But maybe, this week, it’s worth letting ourselves acknowledge, and really receive, all that our mothers, and their mothers, and theirs, have given us.

Life's Purpose? My Clients Hated My Answer

I still stand by it.

“Whether you like it or not, you are given life’s gifts. You do not deserve them. You cannot earn them. You simply receive them.

Deal with it.”

I said this recently in a session of The Bravely Examined Life—my year-long philosophical coaching program designed to help you reflect deeply on who you are and who you want to become—during a discussion about life’s purpose.

We were asking the big questions: Why are we here? How do we find our purpose?

As I looked at the expectant faces of the high-achieving women in the group, I offered a perspective that I knew would be unpopular:

As existentialist Jean-Paul Sartre’s said, human beings aren’t born with a pre-determined purpose or essence. Instead, we just are born. It’s up to us to decide why we’re here.

And because we live under capitalism, we’ve come to tell the story that the way we earn money or “contribute to society” is tied to our purpose and determines our value as human beings.

But that’s just a story.

The Bravely Examined Life members did not like this answer. What do you mean, I just exist? they said. That doesn’t feel like enough. I still need to pay my bills!

Yes, I said, we’ve organized a society that requires money to pay for food, shelter, and other things needed to live. But this was not always so, and it is not the only way.

For the hundred and fifty thousand years before agriculture, humans were simply born and given gifts from the natural world: wild strawberries, mountain streams, roots, nuts, the occasional hunted animal, and fresh air that literally just flows out of the living green.

These life-supporting gifts were not earned, but simply given.

And they were met with gratitude and care.

So, yes, we now live under capitalism, and we have to survive in it. But it is not the whole of who we are as human beings, and it doesn’t have to determine how we value ourselves our what our lives are, or should be, about.

We can tell a different story: purpose has nothing to do with “earning a living.”

Instead, maybe purpose is about learning to listen to the still, small voice inside us that knows that just existing—and being grateful for this life—is enough.

How do you feel about your life’s purpose? Comment or post your answer in the comments on Substack and I’ll read them!

Check out the details about The Bravely Examined Life here.

I Went Viral on TikTok

Something strange happened over the weekend.

I am not a social media person. I don’t have a ton of followers, and I’ve always been sort of reluctant to put regular content out there for such scrutiny. But last week I went to an intensive training that was about letting yourself become more visible so you can have a bigger impact. Feeling inspired and emboldened, I thought, what the heck, and I recorded a video and posted it on TikTok.

It was my first TikTok ever, and it did surprisingly well, by my measurements. Over 2000 people watched it and over a hundred people liked within the first 24 hours. That’s the most engagement I’ve ever had with any social media postby a pretty good margin.

So I did another video the next day, in which I gave my annual rant about how Mother’s Day is a tool of the patriarchy—and woah.

As of right now, over fifteen thousand people have watched that video, over 1600 have liked it, and over 70 have left really lovely and encouraging comments.

I know this is not astronomical success. No one’s going to be calling me for a book deal or a speaking gig for this video. You might not even call it really viral, but it felt big to me. It felt like it could be the beginning of something.

And here’s the thing I noticed: I felt myself getting sucked into the Achievement Trap.

I could feel the seductive desire to keep checking my stats, the swell in my body that said: Yes! They love you! See? You matter.

I heard the perfectionistic inner-critic: You know you really should have taken a few minutes to learn to edit the video before posting it. It could have done way better if you had.

I could feel the stress tensing my body as I thought: Okay, you gotta ride this. You need to post every day now. What’s your next one? What if it doesn’t do as well?! Don’t screw this up!

I know the Achievement Trap well.

As a straight-A student, an award-winner, a Ph.D. in philosophy, I’d been caught inside the Trap for decades and I could feel myself starting to get pulled into the endless, grinding frenzy of it.

The Achievement Trap is the belief system that all your value as a human depends on temporary external markers of success: how fancy your job title is, how your kid’s birthday party compares to their classmates’, how nice your house is, or how well your little video does on freakin’ TikTok. It keeps you hustling, scared, and stuck in a life that doesn’t feed your soul.

But, thankfully, I’ve learned over the years how to ground into a sense of self-worth and meaning, independent of my accomplishments. I’ve learned how to feel a sense of unshakable belonging to the planet.

More and more, I’m learning to break free from the Achievement Trap.

I want to share what I’ve learned, as my gift you. Join me for:

Feel Like Enough: 3 Radical Ideas for Breaking Free from the Achievement Trap

A Free Webinar on Thursday, May 22 at 10am PT/ 1pm ET

Register here for a Zoom link and replay video

In this free webinar, you’ll learn:

• Why chasing achievement will never satisfy your deeper longing for meaning

• Three liberatory ideas rooted in existential philosophy, Buddhism, and feminism

• Practices to stop proving yourself — and start trusting yourself

If you’re ready to feel a greater sense of worthiness and belonging, please join me. Register now.

Hope is a Discipline

This past Saturday, I was walking home with my husband and daughter, carrying well-used protest signs and feeling buoyant. We, like millions of others around the world, marched that day in protest of the Trump administration (among other things), and had spent the afternoon chanting “This is what democracy looks like!” with thousands of others in Portland.

On the walk back home, we passed by a neighbor who hadn’t been at the protests. He saw our signs and wryly asked, “Did you fix it? Is it all better now?”

It was a cynical joke.

Underneath it, I could hear his real sentiments: Your silly little activism doesn’t do anything. We don’t have any real power. Nothing is going to change anyway, so why even try.

I know that a lot of people feel this way. It’s easy to feel hopeless. We believe, perhaps rightly, the powers-that-be don’t care about us. Even those of us who do go out and try to make an impact may feel crestfallen when our efforts don’t result in big, overnight changes.

And let’s be honest: mostly likely, they won’t.

We often feel the same way about our personal lives. We want one-and-done solutions and instant results. When we don’t get it, we tell ourselves that nothing will ever change.

That we will never change.

The sign I made and carried at the protest on Saturday read “Hope is a discipline.”

This quote comes from Black activist Mariame Kaba, and it reflects my belief that hope is not a feeling you have when things happen to be working out well—it is a choice you make, over and over, regardless of the obstacles in front you.

Treating hope as a discipline means committing to taking embodied action (my theme for this year), in small, repeated ways, toward the world you want to see.

It is listening to the wisest, most grown-up parts of ourselves, who know that big changes take time and persistent effort and that the world is nuanced and complex, holding many truths at once.

Practicing hope is understanding that while cynicism, apathy, and despair may feel “good”—or at least, not stupid—in the moment, that we ultimately won’t be satisfied with them in the long run.

We know that, as humans, we long to care, to be connected, to be deeply alive.

So, let us honor the grief we feel, and then honor our longing for a more balanced, just, and beautiful world. Let us pick ourselves up and continue to dream, to hope, to try anyway.

Let us deliberately, stubbornly, choose hope.

(Check out my recorded class, “Choosing Hope”, for more on practicing the discipline of hope.)

The best video on fear and anxiety 😱 I've ever seen

A couple weeks ago, I got a note that someone had commented on one of my videos, saying, “It's one of the best videos on fear and anxiety I've ever seen. You deserve tens of thousands of views.”

Of course, that’s a nice thing to hear! I watched back over the video I’d made years ago, and I thought, Huh, that is a good video!

It is perfect for this moment when many of us are feeling really afraid about this state of the world, so, I’m sharing it with you below.

In it, I explain the difference between the sensations of our bodies and the stories in our heads. I suggest that staying connected with the body can turn fear into an experience of heightened aliveness and vitality.

The video also helps explain why my theme this year is “Embodied Action,” and not just “action.”

We need to stay inside our bodies if we’re going to do the hard things of fighting for justice, parenting our children in a frightening world, or even just doing the day-to-day work of getting up, going to work, and caring for ourselves and our homes.

When you click below, you’ll see that comment on YouTube: “It's one of the best videos on fear and anxiety I've ever seen. You deserve tens of thousands of views.”

Maybe give the comment and/or video a little upvote. Who knows, maybe we can make it happen!

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Danielle LaSusa Ph.D. is a Philosophical Coach, helping new moms grapple with what it means to make a person. She is the creator of The Meaning of Motherhood course, which explores the changes in identity, meaning, and wisdom that come with motherhood. To join her mailing list, subscribe here.

© Copyright Danielle LaSusa PhD, LCC, 2021. All rights reserved.

And My Word for 2025 is...🥁

“How is it that my child takes so long to put on her shoes?!” I waved my fists around dramatically. The women on in the online room with me grinned and nodded. Deep in my bones, I felt the relief of not being alone.

We were gathered for an session of The Mother Pack, my 6-month online group philosophical coaching program for moms, talking about how aggravating and heartbreaking it is to hurry our children along to meet the demands of our fast-paced, over-scheduled world.

One member, a writer, lawyer, and mother of teenagers, introduced us to “Mussolini Mom,” the name she gave to the version of herself that dominated her kids’ younger years.

“The trains run on time, but she’s a fascist.”

We all laughed in recognition. I definitely have had Mussolini Mom running the show in my home a lot of the time, barking about how many minutes my daughter has before we need to leave for the bus stop.

This moment in The Mother Pack, along with a few others, helped inspire my word of the year for 2025:

Fun.

Every year, I choose a word or theme to explore, unpack, and hold as a guide for my endeavors. This year, I want to explore how to be a little less “Mussolini” and instead have more fun, as a parent, a partner, an entrepreneur, and a coach.

As I looked at these members of The Mother Pack on my screen, I felt so incredibly grateful that they were showing up so honestly, with such trust and courage, and sharing themselves with me. And, I was having such fun.

I will hold Informational Meetings for the next cohort tomorrow, Wednesday, January 15, 2pm PT and Monday, January 20, 11:30am PT. Get the Zoom link by registering here. If you register, but can’t make it, I’ll send you a recording!

And yeah, I’ll say it:

It’s gonna be fun.

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Danielle LaSusa Ph.D. is a Philosophical Coach, helping new moms grapple with what it means to make a person. She is the creator of The Meaning of Motherhood course, which explores the changes in identity, meaning, and wisdom that come with motherhood. To join her mailing list, subscribe here.

© Copyright Danielle LaSusa PhD, LCC, 2021. All rights reserved.

The Most Important Lesson of my Year

As my Year of Generosity comes to a close, the most important lesson I learned this year is not the one I thought I would learn.

At the beginning of the year, I wanted to be more generous because, well, I felt like kind of a bad person. I felt greedy, miserly, protecting my stuff with a snarl. I wanted to stop the pain of stinginess and scarcity.

But it turns out, I was feeling all those things because—despite all my Buddhist meditation and spiritual work—I still saw myself as alone, separate, bereft. The world didn’t care about me and didn’t give enough to me, so I had to take care of me and mine.

But, as I started to study generosity, I realized that when I lean into the collective—my neighborhood, my friends, my city, this earth—my relationships flourish and I feel more secure, more taken care of.

I started to see that I needed to let myself have things too. Simon Sinek has said, “We don’t build trust by offering help. We build trust by asking for it.” I needed to let myself receive help from the collective spirit. I needed more compassion, patience, forgiveness, rest.

I needed to be more generous to myself.

Ugh, annoying.

But, I tell you, it worked. The more I’ve given myself permission to have what I really need, and the more I’ve accepted and appreciated things from others, the more easily and joyfully I’ve given.

I invite you to let yourself receive. Join the Rest and Resist Project and book a free 90-minute conversation with me to talk about what you need.

The Rest and Resist Project is a space for 20 women+ and mothers to receive 90 minutes with me, between December 1, 2024 and January 31st, 2025 to recognize their exhaustion, to rethink rest, and to reclaim their humanity, even when the world tries to tell them that they are unworthy and alone.

These sessions create an opportunity for me to deepen relationships with people in my community (like you!), to learn more about what you need, and to reciprocate the gifts I have received from philosophy by paying it forward.

Weekly Gifts

This year I’m working on my theme of Generosity by giving at least one gift every week of the year, and to chronicle and reflect on them here.

Week 47, Nov 25- Dec 1: I’ve started my Rest and Resist Project conversations, and what a perfect way to lean into my community, build relationships, express generosity, and be nourished in the process. You can book one here.

Week 48, Dec 2- 9: Christmas gifts. This year, I have a little less angst about buying crap off Amazon that no one really needs. I’m realizing that the deeper gifts I give are my attention, time, care, wisdom, and love. When I decouple these things from the material stuff, there’s less pressure to get the perfect Lego set.

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Danielle LaSusa Ph.D. is a Philosophical Coach, helping new moms grapple with what it means to make a person. She is the creator of The Meaning of Motherhood course, which explores the changes in identity, meaning, and wisdom that come with motherhood. To join her mailing list, subscribe here.

© Copyright Danielle LaSusa PhD, LCC, 2021. All rights reserved.

The Easiest Way to Be More Generous

One thing I’ve realized during this Year of Generosity is that it is much easier to feel and be generous when you stay connected to gratitude.

If you’ve been reading my newsletter for awhile, you may remember that my Year of Gratitude in 2022 left me feeling rich, and I found myself spontaneously handing out holiday gifts to friends and clients.

When you remind yourself of all you have, it’s easier to give things away. Listing all the good things in your life also helps you feel calmer and lets your nervous system rest, which makes it easier to give time, energy, and attention to the things that matter to you.

My Rest and Resist Project was inspired by this duality of gratitude and generosity: Allow yourself to rest and recharge in all the good in your life, then give what you can to make the world a better place.

The Rest and Resist Project is a space for 20 women+ and mothers to receive 90 minutes with me, between December 1, 2024 and January 31st, 2025 to recognize their exhaustion, to rethink rest, and to reclaim their humanity, even when the world tries to tell them that they are unworthy.

These sessions create an opportunity for me to deepen relationships with people in my community (like you!), to learn more about what you need, and to reciprocate the gifts I have received from philosophy by paying it forward.

Weekly Gifts

This year I’m working on my theme of Generosity by giving at least one gift every week of the year, and to chronicle and reflect on them here.

Week 43, Oct 21-27: I bought some thank you gifts for clients. I really do feel such gratitude that I get to do this work, and I want my clients to know how much I appreciate them.

Week 44, Oct 28- Nov 3: I hosted Halloween for my nine-year-old’s friends, inviting some of them over to our house for chili before heading out for trick-or-treating, and then inviting more, who we collected along the way, inside again to get out of the rain. I will admit that it was a lot of eight- and nine-year-olds who were high on a lot of sugar. I realized that hosting all of them may not be my ideal form of generosity…

Week 45, Nov 4 -10: I hosted a Grief Ritual at my house for friends and neighbors, following the outcome of the election. I agree with psychologist Francis Weller who says that grief is soul activism. The world needs us to fully feel our grief, to face it, for it is only then that we can do the hard work that is needed of us. When we do this grieving together, it heals us all.

Week 46, Nov 11-17: I held a bonus last session of my group coaching program for moms called The Mother Pack. Coaching these women, who have shown up so fully and vulnerably, has been such a joy, and I wanted to offer them a thank you.

Week 47, Nov 18-24: I contributed a little bit of money to a going-away gift for a friend leaving town. It is just a reminder that even 5 bucks goes a long way when it is combined with others for an unexpected little present.

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Danielle LaSusa Ph.D. is a Philosophical Coach, helping new moms grapple with what it means to make a person. She is the creator of The Meaning of Motherhood course, which explores the changes in identity, meaning, and wisdom that come with motherhood. To join her mailing list, subscribe here.

© Copyright Danielle LaSusa PhD, LCC, 2021. All rights reserved.

Paychecks for Parenting

It feels grandiose to say that writing my book is an act of generosity. But, in the technical sense, you could reasonably call it a gift.

Anthropologist Lewis Hyde and author of The Gift says that creative work, true art, is given as an offering. And, indeed, I’m not getting paid to write this book. It’s not a market commodity like milk or lumber that has a standard dollar value. I don’t know if it will sell at all, and if I’m given some money in the end, it will be a bonus. But I’m still laboring away.

I’m putting in hundreds, if not thousands, of hours of unpaid labor with no guarantee of return…much like in motherhood.

Our patriarchal society has decided it crass or unnatural to pay people to take care of their children, and instead expects that parents—and, let’s face it, mostly mothers—willingly do hours and hours of incredibly demanding, ‘round the clock, uncompensated labor, for years and years.

To dismiss this work as “what they signed up for,” is both at times misleading—given the limited access to abortion in this country right now, many mothers have not willingly signed up for this work—and it obscures the truth that mothers provide an incredibly valuable service both to their individual children and to society more generally. We ought to recognize their work for what it is: enslavement to care for our children through bonds of love and/or an act of breathtaking generosity.

Of course, both artists and parents receive certain intangible benefits from their labors of love: deep relationships to others and to ourselves; experiences of compassion, connection, and joy; a great sense of purpose or meaning.

But those goods arise from the labor itself. They’re not quite the same as a repayment of lifelong intimacy, or guaranteed caretaking of us in our old age, or, frankly, cold hard cash. Those things are uncertain and/or unforthcoming.

Ultimately, I may actually end up getting paid for my book at an amount that reasonably compensates all those writing hours (fingers crossed!). But unless there are some radical changes in public policy, I don’t imagine that stay-at-home parents are going to start receiving bi-weekly federal paychecks any time soon.

That doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t value the work that we mothers do and we shouldn’t give ourselves credit for the deep generosity we continue to show. It also doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t fight for and expect substantial compensation.

Weekly Gifts

This year I’m working on my theme of Generosity by giving at least one gift every week of the year, and to chronicle and reflect on them here.

Week 38, Sep 16-22: I volunteered to do lunch duty at my 3rd-grader’s school once a month. While driving forty-five minutes round trip to stand in a loud cafeteria of elementary kids for an hour is not exactly my idea of a good time, I know that pitching in keeps me connected to the school community.

Week 39, Sep 23-29: I gave a talk called "How to Feel Worthy, Even When You Can't Do it All" at the POWER women's networking event in Portland, OR. It’s hard to know whether to consider this as a giving or a receiving of a gift.

Week 40, Sep 30-Oct 6: I’ve noticed that I’ve been tipping with a lot less angst recently, feeling less like I’m tipping because I feel obligated and more like I’m doing so because I want to.

Week 41, Oct 7-13: I brought a bowl of fresh-picked figs to a friends’ place as an offering for the snack platter. There was something so especially delightful about plucking fruit, knowing that it would be enjoyed in just a few hours.

Week 42, Oct 14-20: A friend and I went out to eat. He makes an order of magnitude more money than me and so he always insists on paying for dinner, but I was glad he didn’t protest when I paid for dessert later. An offering for an offering, regardless of the size.

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Danielle LaSusa Ph.D. is a Philosophical Coach, helping new moms grapple with what it means to make a person. She is the creator of The Meaning of Motherhood course, which explores the changes in identity, meaning, and wisdom that come with motherhood. To join her mailing list, subscribe here.

© Copyright Danielle LaSusa PhD, LCC, 2021. All rights reserved.

The Giving Stump

I have a friend who has a problem with giving. Every month, when she and her spouse allot personal “fun money” for each of them, my friend immediately donates almost all of hers to various community causes. What’s the problem? you may ask. That’s so generous!

Well, maybe.

But my friend admits that her giving feels like a compulsion. She does it without even thinking, and it often means that she doesn’t have money left over to go out to dinner with friends, or invest in hobbies, or do anything else that might nourish her.

She’s not alone. So many of us do this.

Even if it isn’t money, maybe you give away your time, filling every spare moment with helping your colleagues, friends, neighbors, kids. Maybe you give away your attention, to social media, scrolling, and whatever pings on your screen. Maybe you give away your energy to people or projects that are emotionally and psychically draining.

Why do we do this?!

You have but one wild and precious life (thanks Mary Oliver) and you’re going to spend it uncritically giving your life-energy to things that you may or may not actually care about? And then later feel resentful, angry, and depleted?

I know why.

Because this society tells me that, in order to be a good person, particularly as a woman and a mother, I need to wring myself out until there’s nothing left.

Plus, if I give away all my money, time, attention, and energy, I don’t have to ask myself what I actually want. I don’t have to grapple with the discomfort of feeling undeserving or guilty for indulging my own desires or attending to my own needs.

Heck, I don’t even have to admit that I have desires or needs! Nice!

In compulsive giving, I get to feel like a good, magnanimous, and generous person—or at least not like a selfish and bad one. I get to be like the Giving Tree in that depressing Shel Silverstein children’s book.

But, as I am learning in my year-long exploration of Generosity, “giving” and “generosity” are not the same thing.

Although I’m still not certain about precise definitions, I’m pretty sure that true generosity doesn’t result in resentment, bitterness, or financial, emotional, psychic, or spiritual poverty.

Maybe, as my old therapist said to me back in February, the best way to show up in this world is to be sufficiently generous with myself, as well as others. Maybe I should only give when it comes from a sense of sufficiency, community, and maybe even joy.

Do you have a giving problem? Comment on this post!

Weekly Gifts

This year I’m working on my theme of Generosity by giving at least one gift every week of the year, and to chronicle and reflect on them here.

Week 34, Aug 19-25: My neighbors and I had a block party. My husband ordered a bounce house, we grilled chicken, my daughter did a raffle and gave away prizes that were small treasures from her bedroom. Lots of other families also gave of their time, food, flowers, music, and lawn games. It was a festival of giving.

Week 35, Aug 26-Sep 1: My family and I did some traveling back the east coast and stayed with friends. We bought meals as thank yous for the free lodging, and I’m starting to see this exchange as less transactional than I used to. There’s something special about each part of that exchange being an offering, not an agreed-upon price.

Week 36, Sep 2-8: My husband was supposed to give a presentation at the Rose City Comicon this year, but got sick with Covid. Comicon is not really my thing, so he had intended to bring our daughter to the convention. When he fell ill, I made the personal sacrifice of walking blindly into the cos-play carnival with her instead.

Week 37, Sep 9-15: I bought my kiddo a book that she wanted. Gift giving is not my love language (I’m more a quality time and acts of service type), and normally, my daughter would use her allowance for such a desire. But, maybe because of all this work on giving I’ve been doing, I felt moved.

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Danielle LaSusa Ph.D. is a Philosophical Coach, helping new moms grapple with what it means to make a person. She is the creator of The Meaning of Motherhood course, which explores the changes in identity, meaning, and wisdom that come with motherhood. To join her mailing list, subscribe here.

© Copyright Danielle LaSusa PhD, LCC, 2021. All rights reserved.

This Debt May Follow Me for Life

When I was a kid, I had a little combination safe with a red spin dial where I hid away all the cash I’d received from my allowance, birthday gifts, and odd jobs. I was a saver, not a spender, but there was one thing I wanted to do with the money: give it to my parents.

Looking back now, it seems an odd impulse. After all, much of that money my parents had given to me, and I would just be returning it. And it’s not like my folks were in dire financial straights and needed that cash to keep the lights on.

Still, I imagined handing them an envelope with a hundred or two hundred dollars in it—all the money I had—on their wedding anniversary, as a repayment for the great debt that I felt I owed them: the years they sacrificed for the sake of me.

In his provocative book, On the Genealogy of Morals, philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche claims that humans have always seen themselves as in debt to their ancestors, without whom, none of us would exist. Ancient humans developed rites of offerings, sacrifices, and prayers, and over time, their ancestors became larger than life, reified into gods, and then God.

Over the generations the debt to this God—for the very existence of creation itself and all the ways that humans have failed to appreciate it—became so great that nothing we could give would be worthy of repayment. This is why the Christian faith developed what Nietzsche called a very “clever” solution: God would have to repay himself, through the sacrifice of his own first-born, Jesus Christ. The best that the rest of us humans can do is to acknowledge our inadequacy and hope that we are redeemed by proxy.

Maybe because I was raised Evangelical Christian, (and for other reasons too), the feeling that nothing I could give would ever be enough has long been with me. Every year, my parents’ anniversary would come around, and the money I had didn’t feel like enough. Each year, I told myself that I would try again next year, when I could give them even more.

(Of course, my parents told me, both implicitly and explicitly, that the biggest gift I could give them would be my own success and happiness—which, of course, comes with its own head game.)

In several previous newsletters this year, I’ve explored the idea that generosity is an expression of gratitude and reciprocity for the gifts we receive from life. Yet, instead, I often feel that my meager gifts—my donations to charity, birthday presents, and even my own personal and professional successes—are just little ol’ me trying, and failing, to keep up with the debt.

But perhaps that is the point. Perhaps, if I see it as my responsibility to repay every part of my existence, I will always fail. Perhaps there is a great humility, a feeling of undeserving grace, that inevitably comes with the human experience.

You can’t expect to redeem the world by yourself. You can only give the little you have to the big connected whole, and believe it is enough.

I was so intent on giving my parents a big enough return gift that I ended up giving them nothing at all most years.

So now, I am pushing myself to give the little I have to the few I can. I am continuing to tell myself that it is enough.

Weekly Gifts

This year I’m working on my theme of Generosity by giving at least one gift every week of the year, and to chronicle and reflect on them here.

Week 29, Jul 15-21: I bought lunch for a friend in town, happily, joyfully, without a lot of angst. That felt like a win.

Week 30, Jul 22-28: I gave some money to the Harris campaign fund. This did come with some angst because I know that Harris is a politician and part of the great, hegemonic war machine that is the American empire, and that I could and should be giving more money and time to people who are victims of that war machine. But also, I want to help ensure that I can continue to call America a “great, hegemonic war machine” without facing prison time, so.

Week 31, Jul 29-Aug 4: I gave some money to the International Solidarity Movement, which is “a Palestinian-led movement committed to resisting the long-entrenched and systematic oppression and dispossession of the Palestinian population, using non-violent, direct-action methods and principles.”

Week 32, Aug 5-11: A friend offered to let me stay in her room during a group writing retreat, rather than booking a room of my own. She refused to accept any money from me, so I bought her dinner for the two nights we were there, much to her protestation. There’s that feeling of debt again…

Week 33, Aug 12-18: I donated to a local candidate for city counsel Tiffany Koyama Lane, a.k.a. Teacher Tiffany, because, as they say, all politics is local.

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Danielle LaSusa Ph.D. is a Philosophical Coach, helping new moms grapple with what it means to make a person. She is the creator of The Meaning of Motherhood course, which explores the changes in identity, meaning, and wisdom that come with motherhood. To join her mailing list, subscribe here.

© Copyright Danielle LaSusa PhD, LCC, 2021. All rights reserved.

A Penny Pincher's Nightmare

When I started my “Weekly Gifts” at the beginning of this year to help explore this year’s theme of generosity, I had intended to give money, or at least to spend money on gifts. But, then life happened: my husband got laid off, a sizable medical bill, a fender bender, and near empty business coffers because of my time spent book-writing.

So, instead I have explored non-material gifts I can give: time, attention, service, knowledge, presence.

I hate to admit it, but I’ve been secretly relieved.

The idea of giving away money freaks me out. My little inner scarcity goblin grabs my stash, clenches tight, and snarls at anyone who might come close. It is precisely because of this fear—this small, tight, mean fear—that I made the goal to be more generous.

Now my family’s financial challenges are starting to ease, and I have to ask myself how long I will pinch my pennies.

I think up all sorts of excuses not to give: My house’s cracked windows need to be replaced! We’re not saving enough for retirement! Billionaires should be giving their money away! Why should I be expected to solve structural problems of inequity?!

I think about writer Anne Lamott, who said, “I know that if I feel any deprivation or fear [about money], the solution is to give. The solution is to go find some mothers on the streets of San Raphael and give them tens and twenties and mail off another $50 to Doctors Without Borders to use for the refugees in Kosovo. Because I know that giving is the way we can feel abundant. Giving is the way that we fill ourselves up.”

And, indeed, nearly everything I’ve been reading about generosity this year says that we find a sense of abundance and freedom through giving.

Some of the more woo-woo manifesty books make an even stronger claim: whatever you give gets returned to you—in kind. If you are generous with your knowledge and expertise, you will get ever more knowledge and expertise. If you are generous with money, you will receive more money.

Of course, my Protestant upbringing tells me that, even if this is true, (and I’m not sure it is), such motivations are impure. I should just want to give more so that I can be a “good person.”

But, as I am learning, I feel most aligned with generosity not because it makes me a “good person” (which is exhausting), but because it makes for deeper and stronger communities. When I give to local organizations and to those who support the values I believe in, I create and deepen bonds of meaning, reciprocity, and connection.

And perhaps, in the end, the money will come back around, like George Bailey at the end of It’s a Wonderful Life, who stares astonished at the heaps of cash that all his friends and neighbors he’s helped over the years give back to him in his time of need.

Maybe not. But it seems worth doing anyway.

How do you feel about giving away money?

Weekly Gifts

This year I’m working on my theme of Generosity by giving at least one gift every week of the year, and to chronicle and reflect on them here.

Week 24, Jun 10-16: ‘Tis the season of picnics and barbecues, and I went to a couple this week with bean salads, seltzer waters, and watermelon in tow. Offerings for the summertime bounty.

Week 25, Jun 17-23: We hosted my daughter’s closest school friend’s family for dinner. Getting to know them feels like a gift to my daughter and a way to build her—and our—sense of community.

Week 26, Jun 24-30: I stood up and gave a public compliment to a new friend at a women’s networking event, recommending her services to everyone in the room. I suppose that was a kind of gift, and it was one I was excited to give.

Week 27, Jul 1-7: I sat down with a friend and colleague to help her brainstorm some ways to get unstuck on a business problem. Even though it felt effortless and fun for me, she said it was incredibly helpful and thanked me for it.

Week 28, Jul 8-14: Back in March, I went to a meditation retreat that moved something deep inside me. I had planned to donate some money to the teacher afterward, but it was the height of my financial woes. I finally made the donation this week.

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Danielle LaSusa Ph.D. is a Philosophical Coach, helping new moms grapple with what it means to make a person. She is the creator of The Meaning of Motherhood course, which explores the changes in identity, meaning, and wisdom that come with motherhood. To join her mailing list, subscribe here.

© Copyright Danielle LaSusa PhD, LCC, 2021. All rights reserved.

I'm a Plant Thief 🌱

“Take a plant. Leave a plant.” In true Portland whimsy, a little greenhouse appeared one day on the sidewalk near my office. Inside, sat a line of plant starts in paper cups and note that encouraged people to take a plant, let it grow, and return with the offshoots it created. I grabbed a baby spider plant and skipped home, delighting in my good fortune and in this little piece of creative community.

You guys, it’s been like almost three years, and I still have not returned with a plant.

I’ve told myself it’s because the spider plant never really made offshoots, (which may have something to do with the fact that I probably don’t water it quite enough), but I can’t shake it: I am a delinquent plant exchanger.

Look, I know that no one is keeping track. No one even knows I took the plant. And, if I had simply paid for it—left a couple bucks in a tin—I likely never would have thought about it again.

But gifts are different. Gifts come with an implicit obligation to reciprocate.

In her must-read book Braiding Sweetgrass, (seriously, if you haven’t read it yet), Robin Wall Kimmerer talks about how picking wild strawberries as a child showed her “a world full of gifts simply scattered at your feet.” In Kimmerer’s indigenous worldview, though they are offered freely and bountifully, these gifts of nature come with “an obligation of sorts to give, to receive, and to reciprocate.”

By giving in return, not only do we keep the earth’s harmony in balance, but we stay connected to the planet and to each other.

The more I think about generosity, (my theme for 2024), the more I realize that I need not think of generosity as an altruistic moral virtue. Being generous is not about being “a good person," but instead is simply about seeing yourself as part of a healthy, functional community. When you give, you do so because you know you have received in the past and you’ll receive again in the future.

The last time I passed by the greenhouse about a year ago, it was empty. The instructions were gone. When we take and do not reciprocate, not only does the bounty die out, but the opportunity for connection and community is lost.

Honestly, I probably will never return a plant to that little greenhouse. I stopped renting from that office space and I don’t even know if the greenhouse is still there.

But, I learned a lesson. And this spring, I sent out an email to all the neighbors on my street offering up bluebell bulbs that I had dug out of the backyard.

A few weeks later, I walked out to my porch to find several sunflower starts sitting on the steps.

What are the gifts, big and small, that you exchange with your communities?

Weekly Gifts

This year I’m working on my theme of Generosity by giving at least one gift every week of the year, and to chronicle and reflect on them here.

Week 19, May 6-12: I spent 30 minutes on the phone with a young, queer, artist of color who had lots of questions about starting a coaching practice of their own. They were so grateful for my insight and suggestions and it was nice to offer my expertise freely to this person.

Week 20, May 13-19: I went to see the art of some friends, one who was showing her photography at an art fair and another who was playing fiddle in the park. Both thanked me for coming and supporting them, so I suppose that was a kind of gift.

Week 21, May 20-26: It’s birthday party season for my second-grader, who has taken great delight in selecting gifts for her friends. We’ve spent a lot of time in the toys section of the local Fred Meyer, and I’m enjoying watching my kiddo think about what the people in her life would like.

Week 22, May 27-Jun 2: Every free 90-minute Connection Conversation I do with a prospective client is a gift. I never know if this person will sign on to work with me, but I know that in hearing their story and offering my coaching, I am building my community and I feel held by it.

Week 23, Jun 3-9: A dear friend of mine needed help prepping and serving a fancy dinner she had prepared for a fundraiser for her kid’s school. As someone who rarely asks for or accepts help, I was honored that she let me give her some.

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Danielle LaSusa Ph.D. is a Philosophical Coach, helping new moms grapple with what it means to make a person. She is the creator of The Meaning of Motherhood course, which explores the changes in identity, meaning, and wisdom that come with motherhood. To join her mailing list, subscribe here.

© Copyright Danielle LaSusa PhD, LCC, 2021. All rights reserved.

In Praise of Begging

The Buddha begged for his meals. He wandered from village to village asking for alms, as was the traditional monastic practice, and strangers placed food in one his few possessions, his begging bowl.

How many of us, particularly us mothers, would feel comfortable asking for this kind of help on a daily basis? So many us struggle to receive anything from others at all, even when it is freely offered. We are reluctant to ask people to watch our kids, give us professional mentorship, or loan us money, let alone provide our daily meals.

But the Buddha saw begging as part of his spiritual practice. As theologian Thomas Merton has said, the begging bowl of the Buddha represents, “not just in a right to beg, but an openness to the gifts of all beings as an expression of the interdependence of all beings.”

When we allow ourselves to receive generosity from others, we are reminded that we are all interconnected and dependent on each other for survival. None of us survives in this world alone. Accepting gifts is both humbling and deeply honoring of our spiritual selves.

So, this Mother’s Day, (and every day beyond), if you are a mother who is used to always giving, I encourage you to show yourself a bit more generosity, to be more accepting of life’s gifts.

One way to do so is give yourself the gift of my new Group Coaching Program for Moms. We start next week, so if you’re interested, please reply Yes, to this email by the end of the day on Mother’s Day.

In any case, please allow yourself to receive the beautiful gifts this world has to offer. Generosity binds us together.

Weekly Gifts

This year I’m working on my theme of Generosity by giving at least one gift every week of the year, and to chronicle and reflect on them here.

Week 16, Apr 15-21: My husband and I hosted a Hawaiian-themed potluck dinner party for our friends. We rotate who hosts monthly among four families, and this is a perfect example of how gift exchange—the giving and receiving of food—binds us together.

Week 17, Apr 22-28: My dad turned 70(!) this week, so I drove from Portland to the Seattle suburbs to surprise him, take him out for breakfast, and spend the morning with him. My instinct was that one-on-one time together would be a good gift, and, indeed, he was delighted.

Week 18, Apr 29-May 5: The conversations I’ve been having with women about my new Group Coaching Program for Moms have felt like an exchange of gifts: their honesty and vulnerability in exchange for my listening ear and coaching. And with those who’ve agreed to join the group, it feels like we’re both about to start unwrapping more presents!

The Group Program for Moms starts next week, so if you’re interested, just email me at daniellelasusa@gmail.com with a “Yes!” by the end of the day on Mother’s Day, and I’ll follow up!

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Danielle LaSusa Ph.D. is a Philosophical Coach, helping new moms grapple with what it means to make a person. She is the creator of The Meaning of Motherhood course, which explores the changes in identity, meaning, and wisdom that come with motherhood. To join her mailing list, subscribe here.

© Copyright Danielle LaSusa PhD, LCC, 2021. All rights reserved.

This Elephant-Related Gift is HUGE!

This month, in keeping with this year's theme of Generosity, I have something really exciting to share with you—but first, a little story:

A Vietnam War veteran once told me about when he was out in the jungle and came upon a herd of elephants. He watched as all the mother elephants got into a big circle to protect the babies in the middle. As he told me this story, his eyes reddened and he said,

"The thing I wanted more than anything in the world was to be in the center of that circle."

I knew exactly what he meant.

At the time, I'd been a mother for less than a year, and it wasn't at all what I expected. Motherhood was lonely, isolating, and alienating. I didn't know who I was anymore. I didn't feel like a mother. I certainly didn't feel like I could stand up and be the strong protector I wanted to be. I felt like a small, scared, lost baby elephant that wanted to be surrounded and held—but I didn't have a pack.

That image has stayed with me as I've talked with lots of mothers over the years. Whether our kids are infants, in elementary school, or have yet to arrive, so many of us feel confused, overwhelmed, and like we're missing our tribe.

So, I am thrilled to announce a new group coaching program for moms, where you can feel the joy, relief, and strength of being seen and surrounded by a group of women as you grow into the mother you truly want to be.

If this sounds like something you want to be a part of, just email me with a "YES!" and I'll follow up!

Weekly Gifts

This year I’m working on my theme of Generosity by giving at least one gift every week of the year, and to chronicle and reflect on them here.

Week 11, Mar 11-17: I spent a week sending meditative loving-kindess to myself and others, wishing for our peace, safety, happiness, and freedom, and WOW, I feel much so much more capable of giving now. Turns out that my old therapist was right: I did need to be more generous toward myself.

Week 12, Mar 18-24: I'm part of a women's/queer financial literacy group, and this week another member and I created a presentation on Investing 101. The time we took to organize the info was certainly a kind of gift, but of course, after presenting it to the group, I felt like I had received a major gift too in the form of my financial confidence.

Week 13, Mar 25-31: My mother-in-law was in town from Philly last week, and my own parents drove in from Seattle, as did my sister and her family, and we hosted everyone overnight at our house. It feels a little unfair to count that as a gift, rather than just what one does for family, but I think it's good to remember that we can give these things freely and generously, not just out of obligation.

Week 14, Apr 1-7: A writer friend spent three hours talking with me about the structure of my book and helping me get clarity for my next draft. It was an incredibly generous use of her time and talents, and as a thank you I took her out to dinner. It felt like a somewhat paltry gift in return, but I'm learning that part of generosity is learning to receive.

Week 15, Apr 8-14: The new mother's group coaching program I talk about above really is my generous offer for this week. I have been wanting to do something like this for YEARS, and I'm so excited to finally give it to my community.

If you are ready to be generous with yourself and join our motherhood circle, just email me with the word "Yes!"

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Danielle LaSusa Ph.D. is a Philosophical Coach, helping new moms grapple with what it means to make a person. She is the creator of The Meaning of Motherhood course, which explores the changes in identity, meaning, and wisdom that come with motherhood. To join her mailing list, subscribe here.

© Copyright Danielle LaSusa PhD, LCC, 2021. All rights reserved.

The Question I DIDN'T Want to Ask

Because I’ve devoted this year to exploring Generosity, I’ve begun to really dig in on some of my emotional hang-ups around money, and I recently did so at a retreat led by my old therapist called “Women and Our Wealth.” On the last day, even after a weekend devoted to unpacking internal money obstacles, I was still struggling with generosity.

I shared with the group that I wanted to be more generous and I had a sense that I should, but that I still felt scared, stingy, and resentful of people who had more than me.

My old therapist, who despite the fact that we hadn’t worked together in five years, could still read me like a book, asked: “Do you know what the Brahmaviharas are?”

“Yes,” I said, smiling at her reference to the obscure, esoteric Buddhist concept. The Brahmaviharas refer to the four Buddhist “divine emotions/attitudes”: loving-kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity.

She went on. "Then you may know that when people meditate on the Brahmaviharas, they will sometimes spend years just focusing on themselves.”

I knew this was right. I’d done the traditional Buddhist loving-kindness meditation, and I knew that it always starts and ends with well-wishes toward oneself: May I be well. May I be happy. May I know love. May I know peace.

“It is very hard to truly feel compassionate, loving, and generous towards others when we feel that lacking in ourselves,” she said. “So, maybe the question for you is:

“In what ways do you need to be more generous toward yourself?”

My stomach sank and I got very still in that way that you do when you know that someone has touched the truth. The question struck me as both exactly right and exactly the opposite of the one I wanted to ask.

I sat there sort of dumbfounded, and didn’t have much more to say. But in the past few weeks, I’ve been thinking about the ways that I am stingy with myself:

I rarely celebrate my successes, treating them more as bare-minimum effort than praise-worthy achievements. If I do treat myself to something material—a lunch out, a bubble tea, a new pair of earrings—there is almost always a slightly chastising voice in my head asking if I really need it, if that’s a wise use of my money, and shouldn’t I do something more noble with it? I don’t even make my bed in the morning for the sake of my afternoon self.

I get the sense that being more generous with myself is less about buying myself more things and more about treating myself as someone worthy of receiving them—the same way I would think about a loved one or a valued cause.

Still, I wonder if more inward giving will only increase my selfishness—exactly the opposite quality of what I’m hoping to cultivate. But, I sense this practice has the paradoxical quality of wisdom.

So, I’m going to try it.

Weekly Gifts

This year I’m working on my theme of Generosity by giving at least one gift every week of the year, and to chronicle and reflect on them here.

Week 7, Feb 12-18: I called my sister to wish her happy birthday, first thing. Not at the end of the day, not a day late, but nine a.m. to let her know I was thinking of her. I hope that felt like a little gift for her.

Week 8, Feb 19-25: At the Women and Wealth retreat, I met several women who thanked me for my listening, my vulnerability, and my presence. I guess I should count those as gifts? See the quote below. ☺️

Week 9, Feb 26-Mar 3: I bought a gift for my nephew’s birthday, and oh lordy, I have so many conflicted thoughts about gifting material consumer kid’s toys that are, more than likely, going to be torn apart and forgotten within two days. My nephew’s preferred materials are cardboard and scotch tape anyway. I’ll likely write about consumer gifts in a future newsletter later this year.

Week 10, Mar 4-10: In the spirit of giving to myself for the sake of later giving to others, I am heading off to a week-long, silent Buddhist meditation retreat next week, which feels both like a major self-indulgence and a generous gift to myself, (aided by the loving support of my family.)

How are you generous with yourself, and where do you need more self-generosity? Share your answers in Mother Den.

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Danielle LaSusa Ph.D. is a Philosophical Coach, helping new moms grapple with what it means to make a person. She is the creator of The Meaning of Motherhood course, which explores the changes in identity, meaning, and wisdom that come with motherhood. To join her mailing list, subscribe here.

© Copyright Danielle LaSusa PhD, LCC, 2021. All rights reserved.