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inspired by my recent vacation.... There are seasons for becoming—and seasons for returning. In a culture that rewards acceleration, it’s easy to forget that  slowness  is not stagnation. It’s sacred. It’s where your body softens enough to hear oneself again. After years—maybe decades—of striving, many of us are relearning how to  be . Not perform. Not push. Not produce. Just  be . But that’s not just a mindset shift. It’s a body practice. The Wisdom of Slowing When we pause, even for a moment, we meet the parts of ourselves we’ve been rushing past. We notice the breath we’ve been holding. The ache in our jaw. The tension disguised as productivity. The quiet yearning for something simpler, softer, slower. Stillness isn’t empty—it’s fertile. It’s where the deepest parts of us come back online. So instead of asking  “what should I do next?”  We get to ask: “What do I need to feel safe being fully here, now?” For the Body: A Practice to Come Back to Stillness This practice is a gentle invitation to drop beneath the noise and return to yourself. The Three-Breath Drop-In You can do this anywhere—lying down, sitting on a cushion, or stepping outside into the air. Take just a few moments. You don’t need a lot of time. You just need a little willingness. First Breath – Arrive: Let your inhale come gently. As you exhale, feel your body drop into gravity. Whisper to yourself:  I am here. Second Breath – Soften:  On your next exhale, let one part of you soften—your shoulders, your belly, your throat. Say silently:  I don’t have to hold it all right now. Third Breath – Listen:  Let your final breath be an invitation to listen—not for words, but for sensation. Ask:  What do I need right now to feel more like myself? No need to answer with your mind. Let your body speak. Closing Reflection: Slowing down is not a failure of momentum. It’s the birthplace of alignment. In stillness, we find our truest rhythm. Not the one handed to us by culture, family, or our calendar—but the one that has always lived inside. So, if today you feel the pull to do less. To cancel the plan. To close your laptop. To stare out the window and let your eyes unfocus… That might not be resistance. That might be wisdom. Let it lead you home.

There’s a moment—right before the growth—that feels like a tremble. A pause. A lump in the throat. A quiet no before the deeper yes. I see it every day: in the therapy room when someone shares the thing they’ve never said out loud. In the stretch of a parent choosing repair over reaction. In the face of a client trying something new—not because it’s easy, but because they’ve decided they matter enough to try. And lately, I’ve been seeing it in myself. Launching a private practice has brought me face-to-face with stretch after stretch. Sharing my voice publicly. Naming my needs more clearly. Holding boundaries. Embodying the very work I walk others through. Stretch is where growth lives. But unlike the culture of hustle or performance, this isn’t about pushing through pain. It’s about meeting yourself at the edge—with presence, not pressure. What is a “growing edge”? In somatic work, a growing edge is that moment right before expansion—physically, emotionally, or relationally. It’s where the nervous system perks up and says:  Wait, are we safe to do this?  And often, it’s where our deepest patterns live. In nervous system terms, the growing edge can feel activating because your body is wired to protect you from the unfamiliar—even if the unfamiliar is healing. Stepping into new behaviors, boundaries, or truths can stir up  sympathetic activation  (anxiety, racing thoughts), or even  dorsal collapse  (numbness, shutdown, disconnection). This doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong. It means your system is doing what it was designed to do: try to keep you safe. I’ve come to think of the growing edge as sacred terrain. It shows up in different ways: When you say no and risk being misunderstood. When you speak a long-held truth, even if your voice shakes. When you shift from pleasing to honoring. When you let another see you cry, instead of masking your own humanity. These are not small moments. They’re how we say to ourselves: “I matter.” Stretch doesn’t mean snap. Like a muscle, your emotional world stretches best with warmth, support, and rhythm. Too much too fast can flood the system and reinforce shutdown or avoidance. But gentle, supported expansion—what we call  titration —helps the nervous system gradually build capacity. That’s why I often invite clients to stretch just a little beyond what’s comfortable, staying within or near their “window of tolerance.” This might look like: Taking one micro-action instead of ten big ones Practicing a pause before reacting Speaking gently to the scared part of you Letting yourself rest after emotional effort Using movement (walking, dancing, shaking) to process tension Just like in the body, our healing requires both effort and ease. Tension and rest. The reach and the return. A Gentle Closing Wherever you are right now—stepping forward, resting, or somewhere in between—may you remember this: Stretching isn’t the opposite of safety. Stretching  is  safety when it’s supported by care. It’s how we grow roots  and  wings. With you in the stretch, Shaelyn

Understanding the Many Parts That Live Within You The other day, I sat down at my desk to start a project I’d been putting off. One part of me was ready to dive in: “Let’s be productive and finally check this off the list!” Another part chimed in: “But what if it’s not good enough? Maybe you should research a little more first.” And then another whispered: “Honestly? I just want a snack and a nap.” Three minutes in, I hadn’t written a word — but I was already hosting an entire inner conversation. If this sounds familiar, you're not broken. You're human. We all have many different parts inside of us, each with its own voice, agenda, and need. Internal Family Systems (IFS)  therapy helps us understand those inner voices—not as distractions or flaws, but as valuable parts of who we are. So... what is IFS therapy? IFS is a model of therapy that views the mind as made up of  distinct parts  — inner voices or sub-personalities that take on different roles to help us navigate life. Some parts are protectors. Some carry wounds. Some try to help us feel safe, seen, or successful — even if their strategies aren’t always helpful anymore. IFS helps us build relationships with these parts, and strengthens our connection to our  Self  — that calm, compassionate, grounded center that can lead with clarity and care. A few common parts you might recognize: The  Inner Critic , keeping you in check The  Overachiever , who doesn’t know how to rest The  Caretaker , who always puts others first The  Shut Down Part , who checks out when life feels overwhelming The  Inner Child , who still longs for softness, safety, and playful joy The  Maximizer , who always wants to turn everything into an opportunity Each part has its own history, fears, and hopes. IFS isn’t about getting rid of parts — it’s about getting to know them. Here's a fun video clip to help you conceptualize parts work. What makes IFS different? Many therapeutic models focus on managing symptoms.IFS focuses on  building relationships  — with every part of you. IFS believes: Every part has a positive intent, even if its methods are extreme or outdated No part needs to be exiled or silenced You are not your parts — you are your  Self , your true inner leader Healing happens when parts feel seen, heard, and supported What does IFS look like in therapy? In IFS sessions, you might: Gently identify your different parts Notice  when  and  why  certain parts show up Develop curiosity instead of judgment Unburden parts carrying pain or old protective roles Cultivate Self-energy — calm, clarity, compassion, and confidence It’s like holding an inner family meeting — but this time, nobody gets shut out.Everyone gets a seat at the table. And you get to lead. Why this matters So many of us carry invisible tension: One part striving. One part freezing. One part people-pleasing. One part quietly longing for rest. IFS offers a language for that experience.It helps us turn inward, not to control or “fix” ourselves — but to connect. When you get to know your parts, you can begin to lead them — instead of letting them lead you. Curious to explore more? IFS can help whether your inner parts are loud, quiet, confusing, or beautifully complex. If you’d like to explore this work together, you can read more about my approach  here  or reach out for a consultation.

It's not just emotional—it's neurological. You know you  should  set the boundary. You even  want  to set the boundary. But the words catch in your throat.Your chest tightens. Your whole body tenses like you’re doing something  dangerous . Here’s the thing: to your nervous system, you might be. Why Saying No Feels So Hard (Even When It’s Right) We tend to think of boundaries as a mindset—something we just need to “get better at.” But in truth, boundaries are deeply embodied. They live in the nervous system, shaped by past experiences and old survival patterns. If you grew up in an environment where: Saying no led to conflict, disconnection, or punishment You were praised for being selfless, quiet, or “easy” You felt responsible for the emotions or needs of others Then your nervous system may have learned that saying no = threat. And your body remembers. Even if  you  now know better, your nervous system still whispers: “This could be dangerous.” The Science Behind It When we perceive a boundary as a threat, our brain activates the  amygdala —the part responsible for scanning for danger. It cues the  fight/flight/freeze/fawn  response to keep us safe. In this case, "safe" might mean staying likable, avoiding rejection, or minimizing discomfort for others. Your  vagus nerve , which plays a big role in regulation, might go offline in those moments. Instead of calm clarity, you feel disoriented, anxious, or frozen. This doesn’t mean you’re broken.It means your system is doing what it was wired to do:  protect connection —even at the cost of self. 🧠✨ Boundary Language Breakdown A quick guide to what we really mean when we talk about boundaries. Term What It Is Example Boundary A personal limit based on your needs, values, or capacity. “I don’t check work emails after 6pm.” Limit A firm no—something you  won’t  do or allow. “I’m not available for conversations when I’m being yelled at.” Expectation A belief or hope about how someone will behave—often unspoken or assumed. “I expect my partner to text if they’ll be late.” Request A direct ask that leaves space for yes or no. “Can you give me a heads-up next time plans change?” 🌿  Boundaries are about what you will do. Expectations are about what others might do. Requests are how you bridge the two. What Helps 1. Normalize the Response There’s nothing wrong with you. This is not about weakness or lack of willpower. It’s about  safety . When you start to understand that your resistance to boundaries is protective, you can meet it with compassion. Try saying: “Of course this feels hard. My body is trying to keep me safe.” 2. Start Small + Practice Safety You don’t have to start with your most triggering relationship. Choose a lower-stakes “no” and notice how your body responds. Support yourself with grounding tools or co-regulation if needed. Somatic support: Try holding your heart and belly while saying, “It’s safe to speak my truth, even gently.” 3. Rewire Through Repetition + Repair Each time you set a boundary and survive it, you build new evidence for your nervous system: “I can say no and still belong.” and “I can hold my truth and still be loved.” Over time, your brain learns that safety can include self-honoring. You Can Have Boundaries  and  Belonging Boundaries aren’t walls. They’re bridges.They allow us to show up more honestly, love more fully, and stay connected to ourselves  and  others. So if saying no feels like a threat—you're not failing.You 're awakening.You 're untangling.You 're learning how to be safe being  you . One boundary, one breath, one brave yes/no at a time. Sources: •  The Body Keeps the Score  – Bessel van der Kolk, M.D.•  Polyvagal Theory  – Stephen Porges, Ph.D.•  Set Boundaries, Find Peace  – Nedra Glover Tawwab, LCSW•  Attached  – Amir Levine, M.D. & Rachel Heller•  The Drama of the Gifted Child  – Alice Miller

Grounded in a Moment: A 3-Minute Somatic Practice for Overwhelm Because sometimes, everything is too much—and you need a way back home to yourself. Overwhelm doesn’t ask for permission. It crashes in. Fills the room. Floods the body. Makes it hard to think, hard to breathe, hard to  be . In those moments, we don’t need a 10-step plan. We need a pause. A practice. A path back into the present. Here’s one I return to often—when I feel scattered, flooded, or far from myself. It’s a 3-minute somatic grounding practice that gently reorients your body and nervous system to now. You can do it standing, seated, or lying down. A 3-Minute Practice to Ground Yourself in the Now 1. Feel Your Feet (30 seconds) Bring your awareness to your feet. Feel where they meet the floor, the socks or shoes around them, the pressure of gravity pulling you down. If you're sitting or lying down, feel into the surfaces that support you—chair, floor, earth. Let your body know:  You are supported. (Try whispering to yourself: “I’m here now.”) 2. Orient with Your Eyes (60 seconds) Gently turn your head side to side, letting your eyes slowly scan the space around you. Notice colors, shapes, light, shadow. Let your eyes settle on something that feels neutral or pleasant: a soft texture, a warm light, something alive. (If it helps, name a few things you see out loud: “Blue mug. Book spine. Tree through the window.”) 3. Anchor in Sensation (90 seconds) Place one hand over your heart and the other on your belly. Feel the warmth of your own touch. Notice your breath—no need to change it, just meet it. Let your hands be a signal to your nervous system:  We’re safe right now. You’re doing okay. (You might say internally: “I’m allowed to slow down. It’s safe to come back.”) A Gentle Reminder Coming back to the body is not about fixing or fleeing the feeling. It’s about offering yourself a hand in the dark. Soften. Settle. Stay a moment longer. You don’t have to do everything. You just have to come home to yourself, one breath at a time.