As much as I don’t want to admit that, somewhere in my soul there is a piece of you in me and in that moment I decided I was going to heal the part of me that presented like you.

My drive to do everything myself is a trauma response. It is a form of self protection that is rooted in being wounded. It is a learned behavior from trauma. I am not going to dress that up or put a bow on it. I am going to let it stand, naked, vulnerable and raw in the middle of the room for everyone to see. It is a trauma response.

The shed always catches my attention and it took me some time to understand why. I used to look at it and feel sad. I would get lost in thoughts about the shed in a time when it wasn’t broken and falling down on itself. I would wonder why someone didn’t take better care of it.

I watched her struggling. I knew that it was part of her journey and her story. She had to come to a place where she understood and owned her power. She had to come to a place where she felt solid in herself and didn’t waver from her truth, even when she was told that she was wrong.

I sat silently holding my cup of coffee in my hands. I had multiple blogs that were “stuck” inside of me but there I sat not even attempting to write them. I realized that I was solidly sitting in my subconscious thoughts so I closed my eyes, held my coffee and drifted into meditation.

I journal naked frequently. I also write my blog posts naked most of the time. You may wonder why I am telling you this, but I promise there is a reason.

I like the way that the mug makes contact with my lip. It isn’t super thick on the rim of the mug, it is simply perfect. It brings me genuine joy to lift the mug to my mouth and press it against my lip.

I believe that we are all here to heal and grow and often we need to heal things before we can expand and grow. Spirit shows me healing opportunities with my clients and for that I will be forever grateful.

I would be lying if I said that it didn’t sting. That was part of how I knew it was true. Protective reflexes began to boil up in my body.

As I stood in the shower allowing water to wash over me, I cried. I needed to cry. I needed to feel this deeply so I could fix it.