Her Mother Tongue

<p>Most relationships aren’t starved for sex—they’re starved for <strong>attunement</strong>. In this kickoff, we unpack why “I don’t want sex” often means “I don’t feel safely, slowly, <em>specifically</em> known.” The episode opens with a real call from a friend questioning divorce, then moves through safety rituals, curiosity as foreplay, and “mother-grade noticing” you can practice tonight. “I’m not into sex” often means: <em>I don’t feel safe, seen, or specifically known.</em> We address why we need to connect first and why it’s not <strong>asking for a lot. Want to know me! Don’t ask me to open my body before you open my mind.</strong></p><p><strong>What you’ll learn</strong></p><p>Why “I don’t want sex” often means “I don’t feel safely, slowly, <em>specifically</em> known.”</p><p>Performance vs presence: date-night checkboxes vs reading the body.</p><p>Consent as architecture (negotiate → check-ins → aftercare).</p><p>“Mother spidey senses” for everyone: notice need before words.</p><p>Self-knowledge first: the <strong>Gesture Glossary</strong> + a 60-sec self-scan.</p><p><strong>Try one of these tonight</strong>One slow kiss (no goal)</p><p>• One real question you don’t know the answer to</p><p>• One sensory upgrade (light/music/scent)</p><p>• Ask: “What helped your body breathe?”</p><p><strong>Pull quotes</strong></p><p>“We’re not asking for more performance. We’re asking for <strong>attunement</strong>.”</p><p>“Safety didn’t kill the thrill—it made the risk taste like <strong>freedom</strong>.”</p><p>“Curiosity is foreplay.”</p><p>“Know your tells to read theirs.”</p><p></p> <br/><br/>Get full access to Her Mother Tongue at <a href="https://hermothertongue.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&#38;utm_campaign=CTA_4">hermothertongue.substack.com/subscribe</a>

<p>Felicia traces the quiet deaths we live through—leaving a home, shedding an identity, choosing motherhood and self at once. From fallen leaves to umbilical cords, she explores how change asks us to release control, face pain, and tell the truth about who we are becoming.</p><p><strong>Key Themes:</strong></p><p>Micro-deaths: identity, place, and roles</p><p>Change as nature’s law (trees, decomposition, renewal)</p><p>The umbilical cord as a metaphor for attachment and release</p><p>Pain as a necessary passage—not a bypassable step</p><p>Christ as exemplar vs. outsourced savior</p><p>Integrity as daily practice: tiny honest moves</p><p><strong>Listener Takeaways:</strong></p><p>Notice where you’re clinging; name one cord you can loosen today</p><p>Choose one small act of integrity and do it before the day ends</p><p>Reframe pain as the doorway to alignment, not a detour</p> <br/><br/>Get full access to Her Mother Tongue at <a href="https://hermothertongue.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&#38;utm_campaign=CTA_4">hermothertongue.substack.com/subscribe</a>

<p>Felicia explores the everyday altar of motherhood—where care becomes love when it’s shared, not hoarded. Through a Dark Goddess lens (<em>Dancing in the Flames</em>), she reframes “self-sacrifice” as a broken cauldron and argues for boundaries, shared labor, and the courage to receive as prerequisites for giving. Pop-culture moments (a “Gatsby gala,” <em>The Hunger Games</em>, and “They were careless people”) help teach our kids what not to emulate—and what to build instead.</p><p><strong>What you’ll hear:</strong></p><p>Children as initiations, not nuisances</p><p>The altar vs. the martyr: why love requires reciprocity</p><p>Grief, regret, and the tenderness of shared care</p><p>The Dark Goddess as a guide to wholeness (laundry-room altars, Baba Yaga questions)</p><p>Why boundaries, rest, and pleasure keep the “cauldron” from cracking</p><p>Teaching discernment in a spectacle-driven culture</p><p><strong>References & resources:</strong></p><p>Marion Woodman & Elinor Dickson, <em>Dancing in the Flames: The Dark Goddess in the Transformation of Consciousness</em></p><p>F. Scott Fitzgerald, <em>The Great Gatsby</em> (“They were careless people…”)</p><p>Suzanne Collins, <em>The Hunger Games</em> (the Capitol as spectacle)</p><p><strong>Takeaways:</strong></p><p>Caring is love’s teacher—but only when it’s shared.</p><p>You can’t pour from an empty body; you also can’t pour if you never receive.</p><p>Ordinary rooms can be altars; ordinary tasks can be rituals.</p><p>Our magic isn’t gone—it’s waiting for a stronger pot.</p><p>If this moved you, share it with one friend who’s carrying too much—and subscribe on Substack for essays, early drops, and members-only conversations.</p> <br/><br/>Get full access to Her Mother Tongue at <a href="https://hermothertongue.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&#38;utm_campaign=CTA_4">hermothertongue.substack.com/subscribe</a>

<p>Felicia reflects on the question, “Why did you get divorced?” and traces an answer through embodied pleasure, the deadness she refused, and the ways women’s sexuality is outsourced and commodified. An intimate meditation on erotic aliveness, consent, and coming home to the Divinity inside our cells.</p><p>Key Takeaways</p><p>Self-pleasure can be a practice of presence, not performance.</p><p>Women’s sexuality is often commodified and policed; liberation must be self-owned, not traded.</p><p>Erotic aliveness counters numbness and “deadness,” reconnecting imagination, emotion, and sensation.</p><p>Safety is the precondition for opening; the body tells the truth first.</p> <br/><br/>Get full access to Her Mother Tongue at <a href="https://hermothertongue.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&#38;utm_campaign=CTA_4">hermothertongue.substack.com/subscribe</a>

<p>Halloween, divorce, and the everyday test of wills. In this tender solo, Felicia invites us into the messy middle—the school parade you weren’t ready for, the “you’re so strong” comments that land sideways, and the private moments where the storm threatens to rip you to pieces. This is an episode about soul-holding: tiny acts that keep us human when the to-do list stretches to infinity. Not a bypass. Not grit theatre. Practice.</p><p>We talk about: letting pain move so it doesn’t poison you; why one small action unlocks big ones; how to “do what I can and let go of what I can’t”; and the quiet grace of being held—by a brother’s “I got you, sis,” by a hug, by your own steady breath.</p><p>If you’re walking through something hard today, come sit with this one.</p> <br/><br/>Get full access to Her Mother Tongue at <a href="https://hermothertongue.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&#38;utm_campaign=CTA_4">hermothertongue.substack.com/subscribe</a>