Coming Home to Yourself

One thing I've been reflecting on a lot lately...

is how easy it is to lose ourselves simply by trying to keep up.
 

Keeping up with other people's pace.

Other people's expectations.

Other people's timelines.
 

And often...

without even realising it.
 

The other day, I took my dog out for a walk before running a few errands.

I'd also decided I was on a mission to find the perfect dim light bulb for my new Japanese lamp.
 

The first store didn't have it.

So I drove to another.
 

By the time I got back to my car, the weather had turned.

It was windy.

Stormy.

The kind of weather I've always noticed affects my nervous system.
 

And suddenly...

I could feel the anxiety building.

I actually had to sit in my car, take a few deep breaths and do a quick round of EFT before I could drive home.

On the way back, I even bought myself a slice of cake.

Not because cake magically fixes anxiety...

but because it felt like a small act of kindness towards myself.
 

As I sat there, I caught myself thinking,

"Hang on... why do you feel so much pressure to get all of this done today when you're clearly tired?"
 

The interesting thing was...

nobody else was expecting anything from me.

There wasn't a deadline.

No one was waiting.

The pressure was entirely coming from me.
 

And in that moment I realised something.
 

I wasn't lazy.

I wasn't failing.

I was simply at capacity.
 

That moment reminded me of something I've been learning over the past few years.

I've started seeing anxiety less as something to fix...

and more as information.
 

These days, whenever it starts creeping in, one of the first questions I ask myself is,

"Where have I stopped listening to myself?"
 

More often than not...

I've ignored my energy.

I've overridden my own rhythm.

I've neglected my own needs.

I've become more attuned to everyone else's needs than my own.

I've asked more of myself than I genuinely had to give.
 

Years ago, I would've kept pushing.

Finished every errand.

Ticked every box.
 

Productivity had become a badge of honour.

There was always another goal.

Another milestone.

Another thing to achieve.
 

Even when I reached somewhere I'd once dreamed of getting to...

my mind was already asking,

"What's next?"
 

Looking back now, I realise I rarely gave myself permission to simply enjoy the life I'd worked so hard to create.

Eventually...

it caught up with me.

Burnout.

Exhaustion.

A nervous system that had been whispering for years before it finally started shouting.

The difference now isn't that I've become perfect.

It's that I notice it much sooner.
 

Instead of pushing through...

I pause.

I listen.

I become curious.
 

Because this journey isn't about never slipping back into old patterns.

It's about recognising them sooner...

and gently choosing differently.
 

Recently, I noticed this in a couple of really ordinary moments.

I went to see The Odyssey at the movies.

Another weekend I wandered through the Bangalow craft and antique markets.
 

Both were things I genuinely thought I'd enjoy.

Yet I left feeling anxious, energetically overwhelmed and strangely disconnected from myself.
 

For a moment I questioned it.

"Why can't I just enjoy this like everyone else seems to?"
 

But then I realised...

maybe the point isn't to enjoy what everyone else enjoys.

Maybe the point is to become honest enough to notice what genuinely brings us back to ourselves...

and what quietly takes us further away.
 

Lately, I've noticed I feel most like myself following those quiet inner nudges.

One evening, they led me up to the lighthouse because I knew it was a full moon and something about it simply felt right. I stood there watching whales rise from the water, letting my eyes get lost in the ocean before the sun slowly disappeared beyond the horizon.
 

Another day, it was an hour alone in a private sauna and cold plunge.

None of those moments are particularly exciting.

But every single one leaves me feeling grounded, nourished and completely recharged.
 

Nature does that for me.

So does solitude.
 

I've stopped seeing those quieter moments as insignificant.

Instead, I've come to see them as guidance.

Small reminders of what genuinely allows me to come home to myself.
 

The more I've changed...

the harder it has become to ignore what no longer feels aligned.

Not because I've become fragile...

but because I've become more deeply connected to myself.
 

The version of me who learnt to achieve, carry, please and perform wasn't wrong.

She was protecting me.

She helped me survive.

But this season of my life has gently been asking a different question.

Who am I... when I no longer need to survive?
 

I wonder if that's what awakening really is.

Not becoming someone new.

But remembering who we've always been underneath the conditioning.
 

Underneath the expectations.

Underneath the roles we learnt to play simply to belong, feel safe, accepted or loved.
 

Perhaps that's why this takes time.

We're not simply changing habits.

We're untangling years of conditioning.
 

At least for me, it certainly hasn't happened overnight.

There have been moments where I've questioned everything.

Moments where old patterns resurfaced.

But looking back now, I can see how every part of the journey has slowly come together.
 

Our minds can understand something in a moment.

Our bodies often need much longer to feel safe enough to live it.
 

So if you're finding yourself questioning things that once felt normal...

if your body is speaking louder than it ever has before...

if what once felt right no longer does...

please be gentle with yourself.
 

You're not behind.

You're not failing.

You're not doing it wrong.
 

Perhaps you're simply making space for more of your authentic self to emerge.
 

After all...

we're not just changing our lives.

We're remembering who we've always been beneath everything that taught us otherwise.

 

Maybe this journey isn't teaching us how to keep up with the world.

Maybe it's gently teaching us how to come home to ourselves.