27/05/2026
I was talking to my husband the other night about how the mother is always missing in Disney stories.
Belle. Cinderella. Ariel. Snow White. The mother is either dead, absent or forgotten before the story even begins.
And I started thinking about how many hours I spent watching those films as a little girl. Absorbing them. Loving them and never once questioning what they were quietly teaching me. 😬😬
Because it didn’t stop at the movies. I stopped trusting the women in my life. I stopped trusting myself, my intuition, my own inner knowing.
The distrust in the feminine ran through everything.
I see it in the women I work with all the time.
This underlying fear that to surrender to the feminine, to trust that soft inner voice, is somehow to lose yourself.
When actually it’s the complete opposite. It’s the path back to yourself.
The feminine wound runs deeper than our mothers. It’s in our sisterhood, how we relate to other women, how we relate to ourselves. It was programmed in early and quietly. And it’s now coming undone.
The more we release what was never really ours, the more we come home.
Save this as a reminder. 🔱⚔️🥀
Jem xx