We're Going on a Bear Hunt

My Body Doesn’t Hold Back

When I hit an upper limit, or when life demands more from me than I think I can handle, my body doesn’t hold back in showing me. It's like a loud, uninvited guest at a party—sending signals in all the ways I can’t ignore. I might feel extra frustrated, grumpy, or straight-up sorry for myself. My back, especially the lower part, tightens up (according to Louise Hays this is associated with feelings of lack of emotional support!). I might feel exhausted—like my battery’s been drained and I’m running on fumes—or worse, I catch a cold as my body’s way of saying, LISTEN. And overwhelm… oh, overwhelm is a big one. It’s that trapped feeling, like the world is closing in on me, but I’ve learned to recognize it now as a sign of something bigger coming. Growth is knocking.

There was a time when overwhelm would send me into forcing and pushing harder. But these days? I’ve learned to breathe and listen. The moment I feel it, I know: it's not a roadblock, it's a growth spurt. My body’s speaking to me, and I've finally learned how to tune in.

And it’s not just the inner signs.

Life itself starts throwing curveballs, too. Things feel extra messy. Little things I usually breeze through suddenly feel like they’re dragging me down. I get cancellations, friends flaking out, or my schedule just falling apart. Kids acting up, tasks piling up, and suddenly, I’m left wondering: Why is everything so difficult right now? And yes, there’s always that temptation to blame it on Mercury in retrograde. (I mean, come on, it’s always retrograde, right?)

But now, instead of forcing solutions, I pause. I see these little hiccups for what they are: signs of an upper limit. (Thank you, Gay Hendricks and Vickie Falcone for that gem.) I’ve learned that when the world feels like it’s dragging me down, it’s actually the perfect time to slow down and take care of myself. Instead of pushing through the chaos, I take a step back, double down on my self-care, and tune into my somatic practices—finding space to hear what’s trying to be revealed. I know now that it’s not about solving the problem right away—it’s about making space for something new to emerge.

And here’s what happens when I listen…

The uncomfortable stuff, the tightness in my body, the overwhelm in my heart, all of it starts to make sense. I realize that it’s not just random discomfort; it’s an invitation to expand, to grow. It’s like life is temporarily pulling the rug out from under me, showing me that I need to shift, open up, and let go of something in order to make room for what’s coming next.

I’ll admit, the process isn’t always pretty. Sometimes, it feels like a fire siren blaring in my ear, desperately trying to get my attention. I experience the contrast—the discomfort—first. But that’s how I know the expansion is coming. I can’t skip the contrast part. Trust me, I’ve tried. I used to wish I could just fast forward to the “knowing,” the “solution,” the “answer.” But without the mess, the discomfort, the muck—I’d miss the rainbow.

It’s taken me years to realize that this cycle of contrast and growth isn’t something to avoid—it’s something I actually need to evolve. Because staying stuck in the same place? That feels like death to me. And even when I don’t have all the answers to the challenges I’m facing, I know this: My body, my heart, and even the universe are telling me that it’s time to make room for something new.

That space—that’s where the magic happens.

I just have to get out of the whirlwind, away from the cranky energy, and trust that when I slow down, the solution will come. Spiritual teachers often say you can’t solve a problem while you’re still in the energy of the problem. So, I come back to myself. I ground myself. I don’t stop doing the things that bring me back to center—even when I’m deep in contrast. But I've learned that I can’t get to the other side without going through the discomfort.

For me, contrast isn’t necessarily about hating my job or being in an abusive relationship—it’s more subtle. It’s about the emotional energy, the inner turmoil. It’s the friction between where I am and where I need to go. So I listen—closely—to my body, to my environment, and to my inner world, because that’s where the clues are.

These uncomfortable experiences—big or small—are actually opportunities. Opportunities for growth and expansion. Something I cannot live without.


For a light hearted explanation of this concept, check out: We're Going on a Bear Hunt, by Michael Rosen: https://a.co/d/dleFx5V

Feeling overwhelmed? This calming 5-minute body scan is your gentle invitation to pause, breathe, and come back home to yourself.

👉 Watch the video here


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