What you need

I had reached my capacity.

I could feel the tension in my body. An ever growing feeling that if I don't stop, it would tip me over an edge. A rattling inside that wouldn't give up.

Like I couldn't catch my breath.

My body begging for rest. Silence. To slow down enough to catch myself.

Old me would have pushed through. 

To be honest, I probably would not have recognised the signs.

Old me would believe there was so much to do and I was the only person to do it.

Secretly I dreamed of rest and relaxation – time, space, me – but there was always too much to do. 

What was more true is that slowing down scared me.

I would overcommit. Keep myself busy and say "yes, of course I can" when internally I knew I had no bandwidth.

And truth be known, I did everything to avoid it.

Because slowing down felt dangerous. 

Like falling behind. 

Like proving something true about myself that I wasn't ready to face.

The result?

Tired. 

Wrung out. 

Chronically exhausted.

Edgy with my emotions. 

Snapping at little things. 

And patience that would make any monk send me to sit on a mountain for a while.

I judged my need for rest… Internally I felt like a washing machine on spin cycle except bumpy, and I'd always question; “what was wrong with me?!”

What I've come to know is that rest is where everything lives. Where I live.

I'm not talking about sleep or just stopping.

I’m talking about the kind of slow where you actually dive into yourself. 

The quiet spaces. 

The ones that have been calling you. 

You. Silence. Time.

When I finally stopped long enough to feel my own breath, something shifted. I started to hear my own voice again.

Not the voice that had a list. 

Not the voice that thought it all rested with her – but my actual voice. 

The one that knew what I needed before I could hear it.

Every answer I had been looking for – outside of myself, in the doing, in the keeping busy – was already there. Waiting.

In fact, my body was pretty much begging me to stop and listen.

To be in relationship with my body – to actually listen to her aches, her pain, her deepest asks – is like hearing a sweet melody I'd been seeking for years.

I found solace. 

I could hear my darkest thoughts and, for the first time, choose to understand them. To meet them with something other than judgement – compassion, curiosity – Love.

My breath. My body. My answers.

Slowing down is not failure. 

It is a signal of deep and profound love.

It is where I found love. 

Tending to my needs – the way I do for so many others – but finally turned toward myself?...

Powerful. 

To tune in. 

To care. 

To stay.

…can you feel it? The slowness of your breath? What is she asking of you?

Everything you want begins here. 

Internally. In the quiet. Before it ever shows up out there.

This is where your magic lives.

If you're tired – and you know what you need – and nothing is changing.

I want you to know I understand that completely.

I lived it for a long time.

And I'd love to sit with you in it.

If you are ready to move what sits under the surface so you can finally feel peace inside – simply reply to this email and we'll find a time.

With love, Amanda x