“Well, I was lying here wondering how quiet I could make my energy. My energy is normally loud, and it makes it easy for people to see me, so I am practicing making my energy soft and quiet. I am wondering if I can master making my energy quiet if I could be in a room and people could enter and not even realize that I am there. They would be able to see me, but they wouldn’t really notice me,” I explained. 

I didn’t need to ask for clarity. I knew exactly what she was saying to me. I had a long history of chasing whatever I wanted in life. A long history of pushing and forcing and making things happen. I had spent almost all of my life “making” things happen rather than “allowing” them to happen. I had spent almost all of my life trying to control everything and everyone rather than releasing and letting go and surrendering to what was meant to be. 

I was walking in circles in the pool while crying. I was mad, and I was sad, and I had taken myself out to the pool to force myself to slow down and feel all of my feelings connected to the situation earlier that day. I have always found water calming and an easy way to release my emotions and I have always found physical movement an easy way to connect with the way that my emotions feel inside of my body. 

We bobbed in the ocean laughing about the seaweed and the kids playing on the shore. I truly cherished moments like this. Moments where I was present, with nothing but my kids on my mind. I craved time at the ocean with my children, with nowhere else to be and nothing else to do. Moments where he got all of me, and I got all of him.

We were sitting at a dining room table, and I was playing, which is authentic for me. He didn’t know how to engage with my form of play and seemed confused by it. The majority of the adults in his life were serious and “professional,” and I was far from that.

I kicked the ball, and it was the perfect pass. I began to celebrate and then my body responded in a way that I didn’t expect. I stood still, confused. Why was my body responding like this? Why was I leaning away and making myself small? Why was my body protecting itself? Why were my arms crossed across my chest like a wall of safety? What was happening? 

I was standing in line behind her, and I listened to her apologize multiple times to the cashier. She was apologizing for having so many groceries. While her cart was full, it wasn’t that full. I was lost in thought about how funny humans can be. Why do we apologize for things that don’t need an apology?

Then, my thoughts shifted to how many times people had offered to help or support me, and I had turned them down or told them that I would let them know if I could think of how they could help. How many people I had denied the ability to express their love and support to me.

I smiled when I saw her. She didn’t even come close to fitting on the basket of the climbing structure, she was trying to squeeze herself into something that she had long ago outgrown. I stood looking at her. I understood the urge. She knew the climbing structure well and she loved it.

All of a sudden, I realized that my hands were moving. I looked down at them and couldn’t help but laugh. My hands were shaking “no”. I pointed it out to them. “Can you see what my hands are doing?” I asked.