Gemma Hartley

I wish I had realized there was no such thing as being too young to have mental health issues. That there was nothing shameful about postpartum struggles.

I was constantly on the defense, prepared to fight for my young love against those who thought I wasn’t ready for marriage. It pains me to say it, but in a way, they were right after all. There were things I was missing out on by marrying young, things I didn’t even realize I was missing until it was too late.

My husband and I have been together for 12 years, eight of them married, four of them teenaged.

I spent the better part of two years a frazzled mess over things that ultimately didn’t matter. My child was still growing up perfectly normal, even when he didn’t follow the straight and narrow path set forth by his pediatrician. I was driving myself over the edge for nothing.

It wasn’t the name I would have picked — not originally, at least — but as days turned into weeks, it grew on me.

It probably isn’t the sort of parenting moment that is supposed to make a mother proud — the hitting, growling, and otherwise uncivilized decorum... But I couldn’t help feeling a deep satisfaction with my daughter.

If you were to walk into my house on any given day, you wouldn’t know that I am an efficient and organized person.

But how do I go about actually practicing mindfulness with my kids when I still can’t seem to get them to find their shoes in 30 minutes or less? To be honest, it’s not always easy. However, there are a few key things that I have found really helpful in getting my kids started on the path to a more mindful life.

“Feminism” wasn’t a word I heard much growing up. When I did hear it, I equated it with a historical event, not a work in progress. I thought first-wave feminism was a one-and-done deal, and that all the work necessary for women’s equality had already been accomplished.

To be honest, it’s exhausting, and I am ready to shed this pesky baby weight once and for all. I mean that literally.