The Pattern We Inherit: Why It’s So Hard for Women to Receive

Mother’s Day always brings up deep reflection for me.

 This year, it wasn’t just about becoming a mother — it was about seeing my own mother more clearly. And in doing so, realizing how much of her I carry within me.

Especially this one pattern:

The resistance to receiving care.

A few weeks ago, a woman reached out to offer me a free craniosacral massage. She had seen that I was healing from Bell’s palsy, and she wanted to help. I was deeply touched… and I almost didn’t go.

Coordinating it felt like too much. The baby didn’t take a bottle. I would have to ask my mom to come with me and help. The logistics felt heavy — and so did the guilt.

But my mom, who rarely receives care herself, insisted.

She helped me make it happen.

And that massage — that hour of surrender — shifted something in me.

Later, I offered to book her a session too. She declined.

With love, of course. But I watched her push it away the same way I almost had.

And it hit me: I inherited this.

Why Is It So Hard to Receive?

Many of us were raised by women who told us to take care of ourselves — but modeled the opposite.

They were strong, self-sufficient, endlessly giving. But when it came to receiving support? There was often resistance. Even something as simple as a massage, therapy, or a helping hand felt… indulgent. Unnecessary. Maybe even selfish.

We watched them do it all.

And we learned to do the same.

It shows up in subtle ways:

• Making nourishing lunches for your kids, then eating scraps.
• Caring for everyone’s emotions, while bottling up your own.
• Breastfeeding while running on fumes, wondering why your milk supply is dropping.

We are taught to give endlessly — but never how to receive.

The Wake-Up Call: Bell’s Palsy & Postpartum

For me, the wake-up call came through my body.

During the last month of pregnancy, I developed Bell’s palsy — a painful and disorienting nerve condition. The pain was worse than labor. I was paralyzed on one side of my face, in constant discomfort, and unable to sleep.

One night, in desperation, I finally prayed.

Not for others, but for myself.

That act alone — asking for help — was foreign.

And the next morning, miraculously, the pain was gone.

Later, during postpartum, the lesson came again.

I needed help. A lot of it.

And it made me angry. Frustrated. I didn’t want to rely on anyone.

But I had to. My body demanded it.

And in doing so, I began to understand what healing truly meant.

Receiving Isn’t Selfish — It’s Sacred

There’s a moment in every healing journey where the pattern breaks.

It’s the moment we finally say: “I matter.”

Receiving care is not weakness.

It is an act of trust. An act of safety. An act of reverence for the body that has carried you this far.

When we receive, we shift into the parasympathetic nervous system — that “rest and digest” state where true healing can begin.

It’s where our bodies exhale.

Our emotions soften.

Our spirit feels held.

This is not about indulgence.

It’s about liberation — for you, for your children, and for the generations to come.

A Small Invitation That Can Change Everything

If this story resonates with you, here’s a gentle invitation:

Ask yourself:

Where am I still playing the martyr?

Where am I telling others to invest in themselves — but still struggling to invest in me?

And then choose one act of care.

Just one.

• A nourishing meal.
• A walk by yourself.
• A session of support.
• Or a healing space like the 10 Day Virtual Retreat.

Do it not because you’ve earned it — but because you are worthy of it.

You Deserve to Receive

Healing doesn’t happen when we do more.

It happens when we finally let go.

Let yourself be cared for.

Let yourself be held.

Let yourself receive — without guilt, without explanation, without delay.

And if you’re ready to break this pattern for good… I’d love to see you inside the 10 Day Virtual Retreat.

This week only, I’ll be joining live for a special bonus call — just for our Mother’s Day group.

Because you are worthy of care.

Not someday.

Now.