Comfort called, It wants you to stay stuck...
Last week, I wrote about making space when the plan falls apart.
This week, I keep coming back to what we allow into that space—and what gives it roots.
My partner and I had a beach trip planned. A little escape. Time together. Our first time OFF, unscheduled…Preferably with water, sunshine, and fewer responsibilities asking questions.
Then it was cancelled. Weather, other people’s conflict, the reason did not really matter.
I would still have happily accepted the beach. But the shift is what I noticed.
Being home made room for something we needed: connection with each other, ways to show up in SERVICE with family and friends, and with the home we are building our lives around. Laughter. Joy. Time to actually be where we were.
After a quick perspective shift, I could see a bigger purpose in that space. I do not know that every cancelled plan is a message from God.
I do know that when I stopped wrestling with the day we lost, I could receive the life still available to us and make it really beautiful.
Where might that be happening for you? What are you working so hard to get away from—or get toward—that you are missing a chance to connect with what is here?
What gives connection roots
For me, the foundation is God. That source allows safety. THEN I can meet my body fully and process what’s happening, instead of feeling completely hijacked and so small I can’t function. I think we all know that, “oh, shit, I messed up moment”. If its not that, it’s just the normal life demands that set us over.
Connection, in the biggest mind twist helps me return to myself—all of me. The physical body, thoughts, emotions, beliefs, needs, and spirit. The capable parts and the parts still struggling. Connection with myself means listening to the layers and paying ATTENTION to how they influence each other. It shapes how I show up for the people around me.
It becomes visible in ordinary things: how I speak to myself or my partner when I am disappointed, how fun and present I am with my daughter, whether I listen to a friend and really HEAR, and how I care for someone on my table.
Our impact grows through those relationships. What is rooted in us eventually reaches other people. The world comes from us, not AT US.
Noise and business can keep us moving without keeping us connected. Pain, fear, urgency, and constant motion can fill every available space. We answer, react, scroll, plan, and keep going. Sometimes momentum is carrying us because we have not stopped long enough to ask what we are moving toward.
What is giving your life direction right now? Your values? Your faith? Your relationships? Or the loudest thing asking for your attention?
When comfort keeps us on the surface
Sometimes we stay with what is comfortable and reliable because it helps us shut off the pain. Stay busy. Keep the routine. Scroll. Work. Take care of everyone. Keep the conversation light.
Those things give us relief. They check the box But sometimes they also help us avoid the deeper layers—the grief we have not faced, the need we have not named, the conversation we are afraid to have.
We can know each other’s schedules, habits, and dinner orders without knowing what is happening underneath.
Familiarity can feel like closeness.
Reliability can give connection a foundation, but we still have to let ourselves be known.
Can you say what you need?
Admit what scares you?
Be seen when you are not useful, agreeable, or holding everything together?
We can stay on the surface with ourselves, too. Follow the routine, get the workout in, book the massage—and never pause to notice the grief, desire, fear, or exhaustion we brought with us.
What do you reach for when something hurts? Does it help you feel supported—or just help you stop feeling for a while?
I am learning that connection gives me support to meet what is painful, a little at a time. God. My breath. My body. People I can be honest with. That is part of the Whole Human work: making room for all your layers, with enough support to listen to them.
Where have you gotten comfortable staying disconnected because connecting might hurt? Sometimes practice starts with one honest sentence, one question asked with the willingness to hear the answer, or one familiar moment approached differently.
The place that hurts belongs to a whole body
I notice this in my body, too. When my low back feels weak or unsupported, I notice my shoulder pain getting worse. The burning sets in and just spreads. I can spend all my attention on the shoulder because that is where I feel it most. But I also need to look at the support underneath it.
That is a pattern I notice, rather than a diagnosis of one total cause. The torso, hips, shoulder blades, and arms work together during movement. Changing how one area supports us can change the demands on another.
Our bodies are full of relationships. Some parts provide stability so others can move. Breathing, muscle effort, and the way we distribute load all interact. The loudest symptom may be one part of a larger picture.
Relief matters. So does asking what may be contributing: strength, movement, workload, sleep, recovery, or the support we need. There may be several contributors instead of one tidy root cause.
In life, I find a similar question useful: what is underneath the thing I keep trying to fix? Am I making another schedule because I need structure—or because I am afraid to disappoint someone? Am I chasing another solution when I actually need rest, a boundary, or a person who can help?
The comparison has limits. Pain is not proof of a spiritual lesson or an emotional failure. Sometimes we need appropriate physical care. We can pursue that care while staying curious about the rest of our lives.
Connection survives imperfect moments
Case in point, given the opportunity to enjoy workout time at our newest favorite space, Aura Wellness, I broke a really nice, expensive dumbbell. Apparently, even the equipment needed an opportunity for personal growth.
Fear, anger, and shame were all there. Very available. and I used them to the max. I could feel how quickly an accident could become a whole story about me: I ruined something. I should have known better. What will she think? I can’t be trusted.
My connection did not keep those feelings from showing up. It helped me move through them. I could return to God, notice my body, come back to my breath, and orient to the space I was actually in. Then I could deal with the actual situation instead of treating it as a verdict on who I am.
I had resources to draw on: past experiences, people who have supported me, tools I have learned, and moments when I have practiced returning before. None of that required me to be perfectly calm.
Practice changes what we can return to
Growth takes practice. An insight can arrive suddenly; the ability to use it often develops through repetition. We meet discomfort again, try a response, notice what helps, and adjust.
Over time, we learn which practices support us and which leave us depleted. We learn who makes room for honesty, accountability, and growth—and which relationships require us to keep abandoning ourselves.
Repetition can become useful exposure to a familiar challenge. Rumination can become another exhausting rehearsal of why we are failing. I want to keep asking whether I am practicing a response or replaying a judgment.
The filter matters. When something hurts or goes wrong, do I see only a problem I have to eliminate? Or can I also ask whether there is an opportunity to grow in connection with God, myself, or someone who helps me grow?
That question does not make every difficulty good. It does not ask us to tolerate harm. Sometimes the response is treatment, repair, a boundary, or leaving. Connection helps me keep perspective about what is real and choose what the moment calls for.
Try it with something small this week. Name what actually happened, before adding the story about what it means. Notice where you are supported. Let your breath stay easy. Ask what one honest next step is available.
Then make room for something life-giving while the rest remains unfinished. A conversation. A meal at home. Gentle movement. A laugh you did not schedule.
What do you return to when you are afraid? Who helps you tell the truth? What would change if you practiced reaching for that support before you were completely overwhelmed?
What I am listening to
The Mattering Effect Finding Your Way Back to Meaning and Connection — The One You Feed with John Miles
You can get everything done and still feel disconnected from the life you are living. This conversation explores mattering: feeling valued and recognizing that your presence contributes something. For me, that connects with being rooted in God and part of something bigger than myself. It becomes tangible through the care we give, the support we receive, and the relationships where we feel seen.
Where do you feel valued beyond what you accomplish? Where can you contribute without disappearing into everyone else’s needs?
Practice with me
That is what we do in the Whole Human offering: partner around the change you want to create. We start with a conversation about what feels difficult, what you want more of, and what support would help—whether your focus is wellness, your physical body, mindfulness, nutritional support, or spirituality. Those layers belong in the same conversation.
Your support can bring together hands-on bodywork, movement, strength training, yoga, connection, resources, and personal accountability. We choose what fits your goals, draw on appropriate practitioners when needed, and adjust as you practice. You have a partner to help you follow through, notice what works, and make changes that fit your actual life.
I am expanding this work at Aura with office space, classes, private sessions, coaching, and workshops. Start by booking a consultation through my booking site. Bring the change you want—even if you do not yet know how to get there. We can talk it through together.
Save the date: Restore & Unwind Restorative Fascia returns to Spyre on November 7 at 2:30 PM. Registration details are coming soon.
With grit + grace,Brittany
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