Meeting Yourself Where You Are

I hosted an online breathwork session recently, and it didn’t go as I had planned.

Something unexpected happened, and I had to adapt quickly. Guests were already arriving in the waiting room, and I found myself having to work with what was available to me rather than what I had carefully prepared.

I did continue. But if I’m honest, my first response wasn’t particularly graceful.

There was self-loathing, perfectionist thoughts and that familiar voice asking me what people would think.

The what ifs arrived almost immediately.

What if they didn’t like it?

What if they couldn’t follow my instructions?

What if people meeting me for the first time left thinking this was all I had to offer?

I know I’m not alone in the what ifs.

As a therapist, I’ve supported many clients in learning to recognise their what if thoughts for what they are.

They are not facts. They are not predictions.

A thought that begins with What if? is not a fact, and it is not a prediction of what is to come or what has already happened.

Often, these thoughts are driven by worry, fear or panic. Our minds are trying to prepare us for what could go wrong, or perhaps for a deeper fear.

Fear of being seen.

Fear of not being liked.

Fear of abandonment.

Fear of not being enough.

And perhaps the hardest part is that, in those moments, these thoughts can feel so convincing. They can sound like the truth when, really, they are simply worry or fear asking us to protect ourselves.

The listening ear needs a listening ear too

I have found myself down that path of self-loathing many times, particularly as I prepare to hold spaces for others.

I want my practices in breathwork and therapy to go well, just as any other practitioner would. So naturally, the ruminating what ifs have made space in my mind and slowly taken over my body at times. Those thoughts have left me feeling tense, anxious and stressed.

This is where I want to acknowledge something that feels really important to me.

As a therapist, I support people with these very thoughts. I know the theories. I know the tools. I know the ways we can challenge the thoughts that are fuelled by fear, worry and panic.

But I also know what it feels like to be in it.

When the emotions are taking over your body and your thoughts are racing, your mind is no longer thinking clearly. Sometimes knowing the answers isn’t enough. Some things are simply easier said than done when you’re trying to navigate them on your own.

I spoke to a very good friend of mine who helped me slow down my thoughts and quiet the what if noise in my mind.

It helped me feel safe in my mind again.

So, my message for you here is:

We are not meant to carry everything alone.

The missing ingredient

You make something!

These are the wise words of my dear friend, who became my listening ear when I needed it. Those words echoed in my mind because that is exactly what I did.

I did make something.

And how comforting to remember that I have practised this so many times. As a mother, as a woman and even as a child.

Because:

Life does not always give us every ingredient we think we need.

We don’t always have the right words. The right energy. The right conditions. The right amount of time. We don’t always feel prepared.

Sometimes we have to breathe in the middle of the mess.

Sometimes we have to parent while we’re tired.

Sometimes we have to create when we’re doubting ourselves.

Sometimes we have to show up when we’re not feeling like our best selves.

And sometimes, we simply have to make something out of what we’ve got.

Meet me at the bus stop

Imagine you have arranged to meet a friend at the bus stop and, as you walk towards them, you greet them to say hello.

You open your arms. You offer a hug, or a kiss on the cheek, or maybe a hand reaches for theirs.

You welcome them into your space, exactly as they are, exactly as you find them.

This is how we are meant to meet ourselves.

Before you try to meet anything else. Before the breathwork. Before the session. Before the meeting, the school run, the studio, the stage, the thing you love and the thing you’re afraid you’ll get wrong.

Before any of these things, we first must meet ourselves.

Not at the door of who we wish we were. Not after we’ve tidied the mess or found the missing pieces and ingredients.

But here.

At the bus stop of this exact moment, with whatever we have carried with us today.

If you can learn to greet yourself this way, you will also learn something else too.

Bus stops are places where others gather. Others who are also standing, also waiting, also learning how to arrive.

As you learn to greet yourself with open arms, you will begin to notice:

That you were never meant to stand there alone.

The friend who shows up without being asked. The therapist who holds the space so you don’t have to hold it by yourself. The breathwork coach steadying your breath. The child’s hand gently placed in yours, the pet snuggling into your leg and the friendly stranger who sits beside you while asking for nothing in return.

They stand with you.

Because, as my dear friend once reminded me: