Hello dear one,

We've learned to see the world in a certain way. We interpret what we think is happening, and we make up stories about ourselves and our loved ones. The slammed door means something. The child who won't fall asleep, or settle into our arms, means something else. And the way we judge ourselves after we snap at the person we love most, freeze when it's time to begin or rush through the ending, that means something too. We only see the behavior, and we just want to make it stop.

But the behavior is simply a communication of something underneath. It's the doorway to a story we haven’t learned to see. Underneath it, unseen and older, is the root: a pattern that made sense once that your body learned in a moment you may not remember. It's often older than we can consciously remember. The body remembers even when we don't have an explicit memory of what happened in our early life.

When we stay on the surface with the story we made up about what we think is happening, nothing quite shifts. The story we tell becomes more entrenched. But when we get curious about the root, something softens. Not because we forced the behavior to stop, but because we’re finally curious enough to ask what else might be happening here.

You might remember Hannah from a couple of weeks ago. She came into the world after a long wait where nothing seemed to be happening, followed by a sudden rush right at the end. When she looked at how she leaves the house, she recognized the very same shape. The waiting, nothing quite happening, and then suddenly she's late and flying out the door with something unfinished behind her. Her body knew that rhythm before she had any words for it.

She told me a story about one day when she caught the pattern in real time. Five minutes down the road, as she was hurrying towards her destination, she realized she'd done it again. And this time, instead of continuing on, she turned around to finish what she'd started. She realized that she could take a later train. The world didn't end. And she told me it felt spacious.

Nothing forced her to stop rushing. She slowed down enough to notice the old pattern running, and in that pause, a choice appeared that had been there all along.

Seeing the pattern is only the beginning. The real change happens deeper, when the body itself feels safe enough to be seen for the story it's been holding, and safe enough to finally set it down. And in that letting go, a new possibility opens, a choice that was never available from the thinking place alone.

This is slow, tender work. It isn't about fixing you, or your child. It's about learning to be curious about the story underneath the story, the story no one taught us to see, so the hard moments start to make a different kind of sense.

So this week, when a behavior feels sticky, yours or someone else's, see if you can look past the behavior for a moment and bring in some curiosity. What might the root be? What’s the pattern that is wanting to be seen? What behaviors have always been with you as long as you can remember? What choice might be waiting there for you if you slow down or ask a different question? You don't have to solve it. Being curious is enough to begin.

One more thing. Working with the story underneath is exactly the work I do with people one to one. After some time away from it, I have room again for a few new clients, and I would love to walk alongside you if this is the work you're ready for. If you've felt the pull to go deeper than a newsletter can take you, the ways we might work together are here: Work Together

See if something calls to you. If it does, reach out. It just starts the conversation with me. Or you can hit reply to this email if that's easier.

More goodness coming next week!

In the meantime: Be curious. Be kind. Start with yourself.

Warmly,

Rebecca