Confession: I manifested something...
✨The dreamer and the dream.✨
I turned 41 this week. At my birthday lunch, my new sister-in-law asked my mom, “Tell me about what it was like being pregnant with Melody.” Surprisingly, this is a story I hadn’t heard before. My mom, with crystal clarity, shared how she was so incredibly happy while she was pregnant. This despite the fact that she was only 21, and her country was in the middle of a war.
She talked about how while she was pregnant with me, she and her family would often have to rush to the basement when the air raid sirens would sound. On her way down she would grab a tray and fill it with bread and cheese and herbs and serve them with a smile to the many family members, friends and neighbors huddled together in the basement for safety. Not even war could bring her down — that is how happy she was while pregnant.
When it was time to go to the hospital, my mom tried for a natural birth. For hours. The doctors told her, and her family, that a c-section would be necessary. Back then this wasn’t common, and her family insisted that my mom keep trying. The hours passed; she and I both experienced increasing distress. Finally after a day of unnecessary labor, I was born at 11 pm on May 24th, via c-section, as the doctor had predicted many hours earlier.
In many ways, my mom manifested me: she had a poster of a baby in her room long before she was pregnant with me. In telling my birth story, she shared how I looked exactly like the baby in the poster. Even though she had planned to name me Sanam (the Persian goddess of beauty) when she held me she changed her mind: “She is Melody.” And she was right of course. Music was my first language and remains a core part of my essence.
And this is where the turn comes. Postpartum depression, still taboo now, was unheard of then, so we’re not sure if that’s what she had. But she was deeply sad — and for good reason. After the c-section my mom got sick, spending 10 days in the hospital. She couldn’t breastfeed, despite the immense pressure to do so, and I didn’t like formula. The fear of being unable to feed a child is something I myself still carry every day.
In less than three months, we would escape Iran together with my dad with the help of a smuggler. What they promised would be a three hour journey, took instead three days. Without breastmilk or enough formula, my parents had no choice but to give me water from a stream to keep me alive. I was the one who ended up in the hospital at the end of this journey. Nonetheless, we first went to Israel, and then to Los Angeles. We fled so I could be free. We fled so I could be me.
The Shift, 156
The duality of my experience joining this world: the deepest joy and hope, coupled with unimaginable trauma, is the very core of my being. I am a Gemini, after all. 41 years later, I’m trying to reconcile it all — in large part here, with you, through these confessions.
What makes us? Is it the DNA we inherit, the environment we lottery into, the wishes and dreams projected onto us? Do we manifest ourselves, or are we simply a manifestation?
In my book, The ABCs of Self Love, I talk about how having my twin daughters Stella and Violet settled the nurture vs. nature debate once and for all:
“In 2012, I gave birth to twin girls who are polar opposites: Stella Avery and Violet Harper. Stella is a replica of my husband: tall, blond, naturally positive, at peace with herself and the world. And Violet is my mini-me: petite, brunette, emotionally complex, and extremely responsible. Now, many years later, they are exactly who they were at birth, completely themselves and completely the opposite of each other, despite having exactly the same environment and upbringing. They are simply becoming more vivid versions of who they were when they were born.
So the social experiment is done. It’s nature. That was simple, right? Except it’s not just about nature. It’s about knowing and nurturing your nature and building a life that honors it, that allows you to thrive to your fullest, inherent potential. And that I suppose is where nurture comes in. As a parent, my job right now is to provide just that, the nurture to their nature. And for me, nurture is about giving them the skills to work with who they already are.
I try to nurture my nature each and every day. I strive to connect with my most authentic self and build a life that honors her. I make sure my environment and experiences are working for me instead of against me. I strive to achieve an equilibrium that honors all parts of myself.”
I wrote these words in 2018, and they largely still ring true — not only for how I perceive my role as a parent, but how perceive my role in nurturing myself. But one thing I didn’t realize back in 2018, and perhaps didn’t fully realize until I heard my mom talk about when I was born, is the importance of having a vision for your life, in connection with becoming yourself. My mom’s vision for me was so strong that despite the trauma of those early years, she saw her vision through to complete fruition. Me, her baby girl, did end up becoming the Melody of her dreams: a musician, a poet, a free woman. Do I still wrestle with the remnants of the trauma of my origin? Yes. But am I also filled with the same hope she carried when she carried me? Yes. Her hope is why I am still here.
As I’ve grown up, I’ve learned to have hope for myself, the way my mom had hope for me. I learned to think beyond what was expected of me, to grow beyond the shoulds into my truest, most powerful self. On my birthday, I received an email from the attorney who hired me to be a litigation attorney straight out of law school. Even after all these years, he still wishes me a happy birthday. This time I wrote him this note back.
“I think of you often. I’m not sure if you remember, but when I shocked you (and me, to be honest) by leaving my dream job as a lawyer, I told you I was leaving to write a book.
In 2021 I got a book deal with a great publisher. It took some time, but I’m finally what I promised myself I’d be when I walked away from law: a full-time author.
Thank you for believing in me and giving me a chance to work with you. It remains a highlight of my life.”
I manifested myself, there’s no question. It took over ten years, but I got here. It started with knowing. With hoping. With choosing the unknown — just as my parents did when they left home for a new country and never looked back.
But did I manifest myself alone? No way. I am both the dreamer and the dream. What a gift it is to be alive.
Why share all of this? Because each and every one of us is both the dreamer and the dream. I hope today, you’ll honor yourself by doing some of the following:
Listen to this playlist
It’s Gemini season. My season! Let’s lean into it.
Nurture your nature
What is some aspect about who you are that you can decide to stop apologizing for? I’m someone who has specific needs, many of which I’ve felt shame about most of my life. This week I went out to dinner for my birthday, and both times I allowed myself to wait for the table I liked instead of settling for the first one that was offered. Instead of feeling shame about having a preference, I leaned into it — and ending up really enjoying myself as a result. Where can you lean in, where you once hid in shame?
Dare to dream, daily
In The ABCs of Self Love I talk about the importance of dreaming — daily. Pick a friend and commit to sharing dreams with each other every day. Set an alarm or a calendar alert and at the same time each day text each other a dream for your future. Be specific. Let it be big, or small, just commit it to “paper” and tell someone you love about it. Be careful what you wish for: it will come.
Face your patterns and change
Trauma loves repeating itself, which means trauma doesn’t mind keeping you uncomfortable. It is up to you to decide when you’ve had enough. For me, that means discovering my patterns, and being brave enough to break free of them. I’m currently trying to change the patterns around food in my household. I mentioned above that my earliest struggles as an infant had to do with not being able to eat, and I’ve carried that same trauma into my relationship with my children and food. Them not eating is my single greatest pain point are a parent. But today I’m breaking the pattern: this struggle is no longer mine. As a nutritionist I’m working with shared, my job is simply to make delicious food and show up joyfully at mealtime without trying to force anyone to do anything. Where in your life can you face a trauma and break a cycle?
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