Today we’d like to introduce you to Ashley Patek.
Hi Ashley, thanks for joining us today. We’d love for you to start by introducing yourself.
Most of us don’t think about how our childhoods impact our present, yet our beliefs, relationships, careers, and more are often built upon the echoes of our past.
I have been fascinated with uncovering who I was from a very young age. I don’t have many memories from my childhood, but sometimes they appear in flashes like an old movie reel.
The loudest memories start from when I was about six. I suppose that makes sense because, at that time, my world was being turned upside down. Divorce. I sat between my parents, as I would continue to do into adulthood.
Divided. That’s what we now were. But I had felt the separation long before words were put to it. The way my mom would cry when she thought no one was around. The way my dad drove away when he thought we weren’t watching.
I had very different relationships with my parents, and I unconsciously divided myself into different roles for their acceptance. What I now know as an adult is that I was created to do this: survive. We all have authentic physical and emotional needs and, as children, we will abandon who we are to be who our system needs us to be. We will grow the parts of us that attract connection with our parents because connection is safety. We will deny, shrink, and exile the “undesirable” parts of us that threaten connection because disconnection is a threat to our very existence.
For a long time, I became the “good” girl. I overdid, over-gave, and over-achieved. When the people around me were pleased, I felt satisfied. When the road was smooth and the seas were calm, I felt as if I had succeeded.
But beneath all of that, there was a whisper, which I refer to as my Knowing. This Knowing understood that the current version of me wasn’t entirely correct. There was a fiery and untamed part deep within that reminded me that I wasn’t meant to be controlled or caged and that it was my birthright to be my full, vibrant, authentic self. I am not intending to paint a picture of a horrific childhood. While I had many amazing memories, it is often the hard ones that transform you most.
In high school, I lost two of my friends two weeks apart. The grief felt permanent, and I was unsure I would survive. It was the first time I got a taste of how brief and unpromised our lives were. I didn’t know then, but grief would later emerge as a recurrent theme in my life and serve as a catalyst for unearthing more of myself.
After college, I had plans to move to Hermosa Beach to work with children in schools as an occupational therapist. I kept thinking, “This is it!” but I never made the trip. Before I was set to leave, my stepfather was diagnosed with lung cancer. I pivoted. I decided that I would move to Chicago so that I could be closer to my family. My brother, who was four years younger, considered moving with me, but that came as no surprise.
Kyle was like a twin separated by time. We followed each other like two buzzing bees. To each other, we made sense. When I try to think of accurate words to describe the profound bond we had, my words fall flimsy.
For nearly my whole life, he was there. Until he wasn’t. They say that the day my brother was born, I sat in the hospital room and cried because I didn’t know what I was getting. You know, first-kid type of problems. The day he died, I also cried. This time because I knew what I was losing. In silent prayers carried by tears, I begged and pleaded. I bargained. But ultimately, he slipped away.
I didn’t have too much time to process before my family was hit again. It felt like being in the middle of an incessant wave pool. Six months after we buried my brother, cancer took my step-father. A year later, my grandma, who was a source of stability and love since my birth, passed from colon cancer.
Funeral homes became like spare bedrooms. Writing obituaries became my signature. Feeling pain became my normal. Everyone would say to my family, “You’re so strong,” but from my view, we were broken and barely hanging on.
Seconds turn to minutes and minutes to hours, hours to days, and so on. I felt like a soldier with a barricade protecting my wounded heart. I’m not sure if it was one grand moment or a series of small, accumulated moments, but all of my pain became my fuel. Like a single piece of grass growing through concrete, I was determined to survive and not only survive but to live a meaningful life. And while I initially went on this quest for them, I ended up finding myself.
I earned a Holistic Lifestyle Coaching certification and began teaching Pilates while also working as an occupational therapist. My life, which had previously felt like abstract art, started coming together. I changed what I put into my body and how I treated my body. But not just that, my internal map of health grew to include my mental and spiritual health. I felt like I was leaving my cocoon and coming out a butterfly.
This is when I met my now husband. He sat in a booth with a sushi menu in hand wearing an Abraham Lincoln Wolverine tee shirt. I showed up in a dress. This ought to be interesting.
I don’t believe in love at first sight, but I do believe in recognition at first sight. Our conversation was effortless. Our interests were so similar. We both had experienced big losses. Like a string to a kite, he was a cool, grounding force. And then, of course, there was the fact of his muscles. Swoon.
But then he said a funny thing as we were talking about our childhoods. “I want to be a husband and father someday. Not sure if it’s with you, but I do. I want a chance to give what wasn’t given to me.”
Annnnnd he lost me. I didn’t want to get married or to have kids, or at least that’s what my wounding told me. Love felt scary. I had never before witnessed two adults with a healthy relationship. And based on my past experience, loving people meant losing people. But here’s where the recognition part came in. As I looked into his brown eyes, it felt like looking into eternity. It felt warm, safe, and exhilarating. It felt like I’d known him many times before. That’s when I heard it. My Knowing whispered, “Keep going.” So, I did.
We started dating. This was my first experience with reparenting, which is understanding how our past influences our present. My husband grew up in a home where his independence was esteemed, and he was left alone to figure out his physical needs. Emotional needs were a non-discussion. It makes sense that he developed what’s called an avoidant attachment style. Cut to our current relationship; his defenses were to under-share and shut down, which left me chasing for connection.
I was an anxious attachment style, growing up in a home where my physical needs were always met and my emotional needs were inconsistently met. I learned to deal with my unpleasant feelings by yelling, then shutting down, then people-pleasing in an attempt to repair. The more that I would fight and fawn, the more he would freeze.
Initially, I did what most of us do. I tried to make the other person at fault and fix him. You can guess how well that worked. We tend to gaze in the wrong direction, and I was looking outward for things that required me to look inward. To break the cycle, I began asking myself really hard questions to reflect on 1) how I felt at any given moment and 2) what role my past played in my present response.
Our relationship began to alchemize. Instead of shame and judgment, there was curiosity and compassion. The more I plunged into my self-growth journey, the more my husband began to unfurl too. See, people who hurt, hurt others, even if unintentionally. People who feel safe become free to be authentic and love authentically. We were working toward that.
When the two pink lines appeared, we cried. He was elated. I was terrified. At first, I denied it, then surrendered to it. Eventually, I was committed to it unlike anything ever before. I was going to be a mama. I was her mama. She chose me, and I chose her. My excitement consumed me as I did many of the typical things first-time parents do. I decorated. I shopped. I planned. I watched as her foot rolled across my outstretched belly. I spent my days talking, reading, and singing to her.
I was 28 weeks pregnant when I went into labor, and while I would deliver a baby girl, she would not come home with me. I am sure my howls could be heard down the hall. They weren’t from the pain of an unmedicated delivery. It was the raw primal roar of a mama who had lost a child.
The room faded in and out as I heard the doctors say to my husband, “She is losing too much blood and we are losing her.” I was naked on a bed, hemorrhaging, and broken. I almost felt like telling the doctors to let me go. I was merely a shell of a woman at this point anyways. But as I looked over at my husband and saw his eyes of pain, I knew he couldn’t lose a daughter and a wife on the same day. Somehow, without knowing and without a word, he sparked my fight.
There is no expiration tag on grief nor a mama’s love for her children. Child loss is a terrible club of beautiful, heartbroken families. I chose to feel it all. I figured that my deep sadness was a testimony to how deeply I loved. It took me time to process our loss. Grief isn’t linear, and pain isn’t a hot potato. It is a traveling professor. When everything burns to the ground, the ashes create new soil, and from new soil, new life grows. I was stripped down to a mere outline and, over time, reborn. Harlow changed every part of me.
I like to believe that Harlow sent me her brothers. I went on to have two healthy home births, both deeply feeling, strong-willed life warriors. I could fill pages about the beautiful contradiction we call Motherhood. It is the most beautiful, soul-giving life work AND the most challenging self-growth work. Why? Because our children, in all of their wholeness, reflect back to us all of the pieces of ourselves we’ve been asked to leave behind.
It is my children who have inspired me to become a conscious parent coach and an Empathic Witnessing practitioner, which is a somatic and trauma-informed experience of tenderly witnessing our inner child. See, our childhoods affect how we see our children. How we respond to them. How we relate to them. While we guide our children, I sometimes think they’re sent here to raise us. Or at the very least as an invitation for us to reparent ourselves. When we do this, we break free from old attachment wounds and resurface as our most real version. This is why this work is so profound; it reaches generations forward and back.
I am now 37. But really, I am a nesting doll of every age I’ve ever been. I spent so much of my life looking for love and acceptance, and I found it in the most unexpected place: within myself. It feels like peace and freedom. All of my relationships have transformed because my relationship with myself has transformed.
While my journey continues, I’ve remembered so much of what I was trained to forget: I am worthy to take up space and set boundaries. I am worthy to have wants and desires and to voice them, even if they are inconvenient. I don’t have to perform or please. I am worthy because I exist. We all are.
All of this is why I have founded Doing Better Conscious Parenting. I am a child advocate, both for the ones we’re raising and for the one within. When we reclaim our authenticity, our children become free to hold onto theirs. This is how we heal our hearts, homes, and the world.
Can you talk to us a bit about the challenges and lessons you’ve learned along the way? Looking back, would you say it’s been easy or smooth in retrospect?
I am unsure that any worthwhile journey is completely smooth. At the very least, there are bumps, and sometimes, there are valleys and mountains. At various points, I have had what feels like all three.
I have experienced loss and grief. It has reminded me how beautiful it is to love.
I have experienced losing myself only to find my truer self. This happened in various ways and in various stages of my life, but perhaps most notably after becoming a mother. I think society sometimes tells us through subtle messaging that she who disappears the most is the best mom. But this is a harmful message because it leaves us exhausted, isolated, and feeling not enough. So, for me, finding a balance between giving it all to my kids and making space for myself has been a continuous practice. I have realized that I don’t have to choose between being selfless and being selfish. There is a sweet spot. I can be a really good mom AND have a career that lights me up. I have adopted the idea that I am allowed to want it all and to do it in a way that feels best for me and my family.
Over the years, I have released many of the limiting beliefs I once created out of past attachment lessons and experiences. I think this is something we all struggle with at some point, isn’t it? Believing and embodying that we are enough, we can go after what we want, and we can be successful (whatever success means to you).
Alright, so let’s switch gears a bit and talk business. What should we know?
I spent many years working as an occupational therapist with experience in many different settings. It was incredibly fulfilling until it wasn’t. Healthcare was changing, and so was I. It was like a long but amicable breakup. (Insert post-break-up haircut. And yes, I bought myself flowers).
I longed for a career where I could focus on holistic health + being a mama. I became the Content Director for a company that makes play-based tools to teach kids about their emotions. That led me to become a parent coach and an Empathic Witnessing practitioner, which is a trauma-informed, somatic experience of connecting with our inner child.
I left coaching with the big corporation and became a mama entrepreneur dedicated to getting my message out there and to sharing my story and experiences with parents committed to doing better.
This led to the Doing Better brand. I believe at the core of each of us; we want to be doing better. Better than we did five days ago, five minutes ago, five seconds ago.
Doing better isn’t about perfect parenting (as if that existed); it’s about conscious parenting.
It isn’t about shaming or blaming our parents or past generations; it’s about our evolution.
Most of the time parents come to me, it is because they want tools for connecting with and managing their children, but what I have found is that they stay for so much more, and that’s because parenting is so much more. It isn’t a set of checklists and scripts we use on our kids but a relationship we have with them.
Doing better is based on nervous system science, attachment theory, child development, internal family systems, mindfulness, emotional regulation, and trauma-informed inner child healing. Allow me to bring it full circle, from our childhoods to our children.
We all have an authentic need for safety. As children, we learn how to make our first family systems work for us because we depend on them for survival. To do this, we automatically and unconsciously grow the parts of us that our system wants, minimize the parts they don’t, and become coded with a belief system about who we are and how we have to operate to be safe, loved, and accepted.
We often enter parenthood and see our children from the lens of this programming, unintentionally creating stories about who they are and how they “should” operate. We unconsciously feel threatened by their emotions and behaviors, wondering “Is this normal?” not fully recognizing that any barrier we have with our children today is directly tied to the attachment lessons we learned when we were young.
Our bodies take over, and we yell, lecture, attempt to fix our children, and resort to fear-based tactics even when we don’t want to. In this way, our children take on the emotional inheritance of not only us but of generations past as we perpetuate the cycle.
This is where coaching comes in. Conscious parent coaching offers gentle guidance, holding up a mirror to our patterned beliefs and reactive habits in a way that can be accessed by the subconscious mind. In doing this inner work, we reclaim the forgotten parts of ourselves and develop new thinking, feeling, and behavior patterns. We become free to redesign our parenting values and parent in a way that honors those values.
This builds the foundation for us to become our child’s growth partner, seeing them not as a projection of our beliefs but as they truly are. This creates a sense of safety for our children and strengthens our relationship with them.
When we’re doing better for ourselves by doing the reparenting work, we’re also doing better for our kids. We become sturdy leaders who model emotional regulation and who guide with curiosity and empathy. We set respectful boundaries and help them creatively problem-solve. When we lead from this place – instead of from fear and control – our children learn to do this for themselves in the future. And these are the type of life skills we want our kids to have, right?
I offer private coaching and workshops. My programs focus on a holistic, layered approach: you (the parent), your child, and conscious discipline tools.
When I work with the parent, we establish personal values; make peace with their parenting past; identify their current parenting patterns; understand the origin of their triggers; create a dialogue with their inner child and protective parts; examine their fears, limiting beliefs, and projections; learn somatic, mindfulness and self-regulation tools to consciously respond (instead of passively reacting) to your children.
When we consider the child, we understand their emotions and behaviors through the lens of attachment and development; invite internal safety through appropriate expectations; uncover their unmet needs to get to the root of their challenges; recognize the child’s unique trigger thresholds and meltdown language; and practice acceptance for the essential beings they are.
When we understand ourselves and our children, it is then that we can access discipline tools from a conscious lens for greater connection and cooperation.
What makes me unique? I am a projector and empath, and so I have the ability to create emotional safety for clients so that they feel empowered to do the vulnerable work of reparenting. I am also quirky and relatable, and I think that helps take big parenting topics and break them down into manageable, doable parts.
Any advice for finding a mentor or networking in general?
When finding a mentor or coach, go with one who feels aligned with you. We all have an intuition hardwired within that tells us when something is right for us or not. Trust that voice.
A coach who tries to sell you on their services using fear, shame, or by dangling your pain point in front of you may not have your best interests at heart. A coach that tells you that you need them because they are the expert is likely withholding the most potent truth from you, which is that you already have the tools within. I tend to find that the best mentors don’t tell you what you have to do (which keeps you gazing outward for answers) but rather ask insightful questions that bring you to the answers within to find clarity there.
I believe coaching, mentoring, and networking are relational. Who seems invested in your personal story? Who seems to reflect your values? Who do you feel safe enough with to be your authentic self? Who esteems you for the unique, throbbing signature that you are without expectations or conditions? Who can be your guide by the side, cheering you on? Those are my people. I will choose them every time.
Pricing:
- “Is This Normal?” Conscious Parenting Support Group – Free
- Conscious Parenting Consultation – Free
- “Is This Normal?” Conscious Parenting Assessment – $200
- Doing Better Conscious Parenting (3 month) Program – $2400
Contact Info:
- Website: www.parentsdoingbetter.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ashleypatek_parentcoach/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/754520742632506
Image Credits
Lisa Scherer
Heidi Drexler
