Viola is a competent, self-aware woman in her 40s – the kind of woman others go to for advice, ask for help, or rely on to make decisions. She's done her share of inner work, learnt how to set boundaries and navigate life challenges calmly. Nobody can tell when Viola starts feeling stressed and overwhelmed. Not even Viola herself.
This time, she noticed her body was aching at night as if she had been carrying a heavy load all day. She hadn't – at least not literally. She also found herself avoiding the people around her – her work colleagues, her neighbours and even her children – assuming they wanted something from her that she couldn't give. The world seemed a loud place and she felt that no matter where she went, she didn't have space for herself.
The worst thing was, she knew exactly what could help her. Over the years, she had learnt many techniques that helped her regain her inner peace and clarity. Meditation. Breathing. Movement. And yet, she wasn't doing it. She just couldn't comprehend it – why couldn't she help herself? It wasn't as if she didn't know how. She started doubting herself and avoiding uncomfortable situations even more.
She wondered: did I waste all this time on courses and therapy? It seemed she had ended up in the very place she resented – feeling pressure and urgency with no way to rest. The more she doubted herself, the more tired, bitter and weak she felt.
It is not uncommon for people like Viola – self-aware, ambitious, diligent in everything they do – to find themselves, even after years of personal work, in a situation where they feel stuck and overwhelmed, as if nothing they had learnt worked any more – or as if they had somehow lost access to all the tools that were once so useful.
Instead of trying to figure out why they had seemingly lost access to all the helpful ways of navigating life's demands, I am more interested in what is actually present and how they are approaching this exact challenge. It might seem as if I am not dealing with the actual problem, but the truth is, much more is revealed if we stay curious about the content of the present moment.
For Viola, this meant slowing down and realising what she was actually going through. Instead of trying to get rid of the feeling of overwhelm and anxiety through breathing, she let herself stop trying to change how she felt, and explored it instead. We often fall into the trap of treating our bodies and nervous systems as machines that can be 'regulated' if only we know which knob to turn. I've noticed how 'nervous system regulation' has become just another way to be productive, to perform better, to be a 'better human'.
Analogies and metaphors are necessary to get familiar with foreign concepts. To comprehend something we never knew existed before, it's good to compare it to something we already understand. This is why complex ideas are often presented in simplified ways, using examples from the mechanical, predictable and transparent world of machines to illustrate the complex, nuanced and ever-changing process of being human.
Don't get me wrong – I love metaphors and use them very often. But I am also mindful of their limitations. When we apply the image of something solid and mechanical to the ever-changing human experience, and start relying on it, we set ourselves up for disappointment when it doesn't work exactly as we expect – and, like Viola, conclude that the failure is ours. We also risk missing the depth, the details and the truth of what is actually happening. So for me, Viola's state could not be represented by a thermostat that needs adjusting (a common metaphor for regulating the nervous system through breathing, for example). The issue lay deeper – in the urge to skip the discomfort of the present moment, which she perceived as personal failure and inadequacy.
The regulating tools alone could never resolve a situation that called for a more honest, profound and uncomfortable realisation. It was precisely because she had all these self-help habits and so much self-awareness, and knew they were not enough, that Viola was able to look a little beneath the surface of her self-image and connect with the new, subtle ways she was abandoning herself.
Viola accepted that context matters, and that what was once true for her had changed, so she needed to stop measuring herself against an old yardstick. She opened up to getting to know herself as she was in that moment – not as someone she already knew, but as a person shaped by new circumstances and events. This led her to an important discovery: her needs, longings and expectations had changed, and so had her boundaries. She realised how she was falling into the old patterns in more subtle ways, how the tendencies to abandon herself had shape-shifted. She was ready to face the anxiety and discomfort of experimenting with new ways of being – trusting that she had the capacity to stay with herself while she did.
Viola isn’t one person. She’s a composite of experiences I’ve witnessed many times in my work, with names and details changed to protect privacy.
