We are told to trust our gut. Listen to your intuition.

You’ll know, your body will tell you, and I believe there is enormous wisdom in that, but is it quite that simple?

What if the feeling in your gut isn’t always intuition?

What if sometimes it’s fear?

An old wound, a familiar pattern, or a memory your body hasn’t quite forgotten. What if, in midlife, one of the most important things we can learn isn’t simply how to listen to our gut, but how to become curious about what we’re hearing?

I think most of us know the feeling when something doesn’t sit right. You meet someone and immediately feel uncomfortable, you receive an email and your stomach drops, someone asks something of you and before you’ve even thought about it, your body says no.

Or perhaps it’s the opposite.

Something feels expansive, easy, alive. You don’t have all the reasons yet, but something inside you says: Go.

We often call this intuition, and sometimes it absolutely is but our bodies are also extraordinary historians.

They remember, a tone of voice, a look, a situation that resembles something we’ve experienced before, a feeling we’ve learned to associate with danger. Sometimes our body reacts to what is happening now, and then sometimes it reacts to what it thinks might happen next.

That distinction matters.

Imagine you’ve been hurt in a relationship where you were repeatedly dismissed. Years later, someone disagrees with you. They aren’t dismissing you, they aren’t rejecting you, they’re simply disagreeing. Suddenly something inside you contracts.

Your chest tightens. You want to retreat.

You might tell yourself: My gut is telling me this person isn’t safe.

Perhaps.

Or perhaps your body has recognised an old pattern and is trying to protect you before anything has actually happened.

That doesn’t mean you should ignore the feeling. Quite the opposite. Instead listen more closely. Ask yourself another question.

• What exactly am I feeling?

• What happened just before I felt it?

• Does this feel like a quiet knowing, or a familiar alarm?

That is a very different way of relating to intuition.

I’ve started to think of intuition as something quieter than fear.

Fear often rushes.

It wants an immediate answer.

Get out. Don’t do it. Say no. You’re going to regret this, or something bad is going to happen.

Intuition can be much less dramatic.

Sometimes it’s barely a whisper, a subtle sense of this isn’t for me.

Or: Stay. Try. Wait. There’s something here.

It doesn’t necessarily demand. It informs.

And perhaps this is why slowing down matters so much.

When we’re rushing, anxious or overwhelmed, every sensation can feel urgent, but when we become still, we can begin to hear the difference between alarm and knowing.

This is one of the reasons I think midlife gives us such an interesting opportunity. We have lived enough life to have a body full of information. We have also lived enough life to have a body full of stories. And they aren’t always the same thing.

• We’ve learned what heartbreak feels like.

• What disappointment feels like.

• What being overlooked feels like.

• What it feels like to lose ourselves in someone else.

• We’ve learned what excitement feels like too.

Possibility. Love. Freedom. Belonging. We carry all of this with us. So when something new arrives, our body doesn’t meet it as a blank canvas. It meets it with history, and that history can be incredibly wise, but sometimes it can also make us cautious when caution isn’t required.

Perhaps this is where self-trust becomes more sophisticated.

Self-trust isn’t:

‘I trust every feeling I have.’

It’s:

‘I trust myself enough to investigate what I’m feeling.’

That feels much more powerful to me. I don’t have to immediately obey my fear, or dismiss it either. I can simply sit beside it and ask it questions. I can allow my body to speak without handing it the steering wheel, and perhaps that is what we’ve been learning all along.

Not to silence ourselves. Not to override ourselves, but to develop a deeper conversation with ourselves. . .time and time again.

There have been moments in my own life when I’ve had a strong feeling about something and immediately assumed it must be my intuition. I’ve learned that sometimes it was, and sometimes it was simply something familiar. Something I had experienced before, my body recognised and wanted to protect me from repeating.

But the circumstances were different. The person was different, and of course I was different.

That last part is important.

I was different.

The woman who experienced the original hurt isn’t necessarily the woman standing here today.

I’ve grown. I’ve learned and developed resources I didn’t have then. I’ve survived things I once thought would break me, and perhaps sometimes the most self-trusting thing I can say to my body is:

Thank you for trying to protect me, but let’s look again.

I wonder if this is what happens as we move deeper into midlife. We stop needing every feeling to be either right or wrong, and we become more comfortable with curiosity.

We can say:

Something feels off, and instead of immediately leaving, fixing, explaining or overriding it, we pause.

We investigate, gather information and notice. We give ourselves time and then we decide.

That is a very different kind of power. It’s much quieter, but perhaps it’s stronger because your gut doesn’t need to be your oracle, your body doesn’t have to predict the future, it simply needs you to listen, and perhaps the question isn’t:

‘What is my gut telling me?’

Perhaps it’s:

‘What is my body trying to tell me, and what else might I need to understand before I decide what to do with that information?’

That small shift changes everything, and it moves us away from blind trust and more towards embodied discernment.

Which, perhaps, is what self-trust really looks like.

Not having all the answers, and not always getting it right, just knowing that you can slow down enough to hear yourself, question what you hear, and still remain on your own side.

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As we ‘move inwards’ this week, think of something happening in your life right where you are having a strong reaction / feeling towards. Perhaps it’s a decision you have to make at work, or with a close relationship. Something is bothering you, and you don’t know what to do.

Think about it for a moment or two and try to slow down and pause.

Place a hand somewhere on your body and notice in this moment where you feel the sensation.

Then ask yourself: What am I feeling?

Don’t ask about why you are sensing this yet, just what.

Do you feel. . .

Tightness? Heat? Heaviness? Excitement? Contraction? Relief?

Then ask: Does this feel like a quiet knowing (intuition) or an urgent alarm (fear)?

And then finally: What would I know if I gave myself permission not to decide right now?

Let the answer come slowly, because sometimes your gut knows, sometimes your history is speaking, and then sometimes the wisdom lies in being still long enough to discover which one it is.

Your body can be the messenger without having to be the judge.

Perhaps that is the next level of listening, not simply trusting your gut, but learning its language.

Remember the hardest part is continuing to show up for yourself with all the things you have to do and accomplish today.

Thank you for continuing to show up here. It’s an absolute pleasure to share this time with you.

❤️ Namaste Tracey Xx

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Please feel free to share You Are Not Alone with loved ones and friends. I trust whoever needs to read my musings will find them as a source of inspiration and hope. They are all written from my heart and offer the opportunity to dive deeper into truth, authenticity and trust.

Share

Moving Inward = Self-care exercises designed to devote time to turning your gaze inwards and spend some precious ‘me time’ as often as possible. This helps to cultivate a beautiful conscious conversation with your body, mind & emotions. Through this process we get to practise listening, to be who we are, and creatively explore who we want to be. With some of my essays I create audios to help you listen as you move through your day/ movement practise ❤️ how we move matters - where attention goes energy flows.

I wonder how many decisions we make each day from a quiet fear of consequence.

Not the dramatic kind, but the ordinary kind. The kind that makes you think twice before saying what you really mean, the kind that has you rewriting the message three times, the kind that makes you say yes when you meant no, the kind that keeps you explaining yourself long after you’ve already made your decision. Or the kind that whispers:

• What if I’ve got it wrong?

• What if they don’t like me?

• What if I’ve disappointed them?

• What if I’ve made the wrong choice?

We don’t always recognise this as fear. Sometimes we call it being thoughtful, responsible, considerate, careful, but underneath it can be something much more tender:

The fear of being wrong. And perhaps, even more deeply, the fear of what being wrong might mean about us.

I’ve been thinking about how much of our behaviour is shaped by what happened to us before we had the emotional vocabulary to understand it.

A criticism that stayed with us, a mistake that was made to feel bigger than it was, perhaps a relationship where our needs were dismissed, a time when speaking up had consequences, or a moment when we felt rejected, embarrassed, abandoned or not enough.

Our nervous system is super clever, it learns and it remembers, and sometimes it creates rules for our protection, such as . . .

Don’t make a fuss.

Don’t disappoint people.

Don’t get it wrong.

Don’t be too much.

Don’t ask for too much.

Don’t take up too much space.

Be good. Be useful. Be easy. Be certain.

And because these rules may once have helped us navigate something difficult, we can carry them for years and years without questioning them. Until one day we realise we’re still living by rules that were written for a much younger version of ourselves.

This is where midlife becomes interesting.

Because perhaps one of the quiet gifts of getting older is that we have enough life experience to begin questioning some of the beliefs we once accepted as truth. We can look back and say:

Perhaps I wasn’t actually too sensitive.

Perhaps I was learning to protect myself.

Perhaps I wasn’t indecisive.

Perhaps I was afraid of making a choice that someone else wouldn’t approve of.

Perhaps I wasn’t difficult.

Perhaps I had simply learned that my needs came with consequences.

That doesn’t mean we blame the past, but it means we understand it, and the understanding gives us another choice.

I think about how often women apologise for things that don’t require an apology.

Sorry, can I just...?

Sorry, I don’t want to be difficult...

Sorry, I probably shouldn’t say this...

Sorry, I know you’re busy...

There’s nothing wrong with being considerate, but sometimes the apology arrives before we’ve even spoken. As though simply having a need has already made us guilty.

What would happen if we noticed that?

Not judged it, not tried to immediately change it, but just noticed. Because awareness is where choice begins, and this is where the body becomes such an important part of the conversation.

You can tell yourself all day long that you’re confident, but what happens inside you when you need to disappoint someone?

• Does your stomach tighten?

• Does your chest contract?

• Do your shoulders rise?

• Does your jaw clench?

• Or do you suddenly feel the urge to explain yourself?

Your body may be telling you something your mind hasn’t quite put into words, and perhaps it’s:

I’m afraid of their reaction.

I’m afraid they’ll be angry.

I’m afraid they’ll leave.

I’m afraid I’ve done something wrong.

That doesn’t necessarily mean your fear is telling you the truth. It may simply be telling you what you’ve learned to expect, and that distinction is important, because what if the thing we’re really afraid of isn’t being wrong? What if we’re afraid of the consequence we imagine will follow being wrong?

Being rejected. Being judged. Being criticised. Being abandoned. Being seen differently. Losing approval. Losing control.

Once you see that, some of your behaviours begin to make a little more sense. The overthinking, people-pleasing, perfectionism, the need to get everything right, the difficulty saying no, or the constant checking that everyone else is okay. These aren’t character flaws, they may be old strategies and old strategies deserve curiosity before they deserve criticism.

But there comes a point when protection becomes limitation. When keeping everyone else comfortable means abandoning yourself, when avoiding the possibility of being wrong means never taking the risk of being fully yourself, or when the fear of disappointing someone becomes greater than the cost of disappointing yourself. This is where I believe self-trust begins, not when you know you’ll always make the right decision, but when you begin to trust that you can survive making the wrong one. That feels very different, because suddenly you don’t need certainty before you move, you don’t need everyone’s approval, you don’t need to guarantee the outcome. . .you can make a decision, listen, learn. adjust and keep going.

Perhaps that’s another definition of growing older.

Not becoming someone who never gets it wrong, but becoming someone who no longer needs to be right all the time to feel safe within herself. There is enormous freedom in that. To say:

I might be wrong. I might change my mind. I might disappoint someone. Someone might misunderstand me, and I will still be okay.

Maybe that is the deeper work of self-trust, not creating a life where nothing uncomfortable happens, but creating an inner relationship strong enough to stay with yourself when it does.

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This week as we ‘move inwards’ notice one moment when you feel the urge to over-explain, apologise, people-please or retreat.

Don’t try to change it, instead just pause, become aware of your breathing and take a deep full breath.Then put a hand somewhere on your body that feels comforting and ask:

What am I afraid will happen if I don’t do what I normally do?

Then ask: Is this fear about what is happening now, or something I learned long ago?

You don’t need to find a perfect answer, just notice and then finally:

If I knew I could handle the consequence, what would I choose?

Perhaps the answer is no. Perhaps it’s yes, or perhaps it’s something you’ve been afraid to say.

Whatever comes, let it be information rather than instruction.

Your fear can speak, but it doesn’t always have to be the one making the decision, because maybe the next chapter isn’t about becoming fearless.

Maybe it’s about becoming someone who can feel fear, listen to it with compassion, and still choose herself.

Remember the hardest part is continuing to show up for yourself with all the things you have to do and accomplish today.

Thank you for continuing to show up here. It’s an absolute pleasure to share this time with you.

❤️ Namaste Tracey Xx

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Please feel free to share You Are Not Alone with loved ones and friends. I trust whoever needs to read my musings will find them as a source of inspiration and hope. They are all written from my heart and offer the opportunity to dive deeper into truth, authenticity and trust.

Share

Moving Inward = Self-care exercises designed to devote time to turning your gaze inwards and spend some precious ‘me time’ as often as possible. This helps to cultivate a beautiful conscious conversation with your body, mind & emotions. Through this process we get to practise listening, to be who we are, and creatively explore who we want to be. With some of my essays I create audios to help you listen as you move through your day/ movement practise ❤️ how we move matters - where attention goes energy flows.

When you take a moment to think about it, we’re surrounded by numbers.

Our age.

Our weight.

Our salary.

Our smart watches / phones.

Our followers.

Our bank balance.

The number of our house.

The number of unread emails.

There are literally numbers everywhere we look. . .

Without realising it, we may spend much of our lives believing that bigger numbers somehow equal a bigger life.

More. More success. More productivity. More achievement. More proof that we’re doing enough.

But recently, I’ve found myself wondering something different.

What if the numbers that matter most aren’t the impressive ones?

What if they’re the tiny ones we barely notice?

• Perhaps one conversation changes a relationship.

• Perhaps two minutes of stillness change the tone of your day.

• Perhaps five slow breaths prevent an argument.

• Perhaps ten minutes outside reminds you that life is bigger than your worries.

• Perhaps one kind word changes the way someone feels about themselves.

Not because it’s dramatic, because it’s repeated.

Midlife has taught me that transformation rarely arrives with fireworks.

It arrives quietly. One decision. One boundary. One morning when you choose to listen to yourself instead of rushing past your own needs. One evening when you stop apologising for resting. One moment when you realise you’re no longer trying to prove who you are.

We’re often waiting for the big breakthrough.

The new job, the perfect opportunity, or the moment everything finally clicks, but life doesn’t usually change like that. It changes in tiny increments that are almost invisible while they’re happening.

Similar to roots growing beneath the surface.

ONE - 1

Ask yourself one honest question today.

How do I want to feel?

Not, what do I need to achieve?

and not, what does everyone else need from me?

Just. . . How do I want to experience this day?

THREE - 3

Notice three moments of joy.

Not because your life is perfect, because your attention is.

• The warmth of your tea.

• A text from a friend.

• The sky on your drive home.

Your nervous system remembers what you repeatedly notice.

FIVE - 5

Take five slow full breaths before responding to something that normally rushes you.

• An email.

• A disagreement.

• A difficult conversation.

Sometimes five breaths are enough to interrupt an old pattern.

TEN - 10

Spend ten minutes doing something with no productive outcome.

• Sit in the garden.

• Read a few pages.

• Walk without your phone.

• Watch the clouds.

Not everything valuable has to be useful.

ONE HUNDRED - 100

Imagine repeating these tiny acts for one hundred days.

Nothing extraordinary. No dramatic reinvention. Just becoming a woman who regularly chooses presence over pressure.

• Gentleness over urgency.

• Curiosity over criticism.

• Joy over proving.

Who might you become?

I suspect she wouldn’t look very different, but she’d feel completely different.

Because perhaps our lives aren’t transformed by one enormous decision, perhaps they’re shaped by hundreds of almost invisible ones.

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This week as we ‘move inwards’, don’t set yourself a big goal. Instead choose one number. . .

ONE

THREE

FIVE

TEN

Whatever feels manageable. Let that number become your gentle reminder to come back to yourself.

Maybe it’s one boundary.

Three moments of gratitude.

Five breaths.

Ten minutes of quiet.

At the end of the week, don’t ask yourself,‘Did I do enough?’

Instead ask,’Did I notice my life?’

Because the life you’re longing for may not be built through extraordinary effort. It may be built through ordinary moments, repeated with extraordinary intention.

Remember the hardest part is continuing to show up for yourself with all the things you have to do and accomplish today.

Thank you for continuing to show up here. It’s an absolute pleasure to share this time with you.

❤️ Namaste Tracey Xx

ps. Every time you see a ‘number’ this week take a moment to notice life!

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Please feel free to share You Are Not Alone with loved ones and friends. I trust whoever needs to read my musings will find them as a source of inspiration and hope. They are all written from my heart and offer the opportunity to dive deeper into truth, authenticity and trust.

Share

Moving Inward = Self-care exercises designed to devote time to turning your gaze inwards and spend some precious ‘me time’ as often as possible. This helps to cultivate a beautiful conscious conversation with your body, mind & emotions. Through this process we get to practise listening, to be who we are, and creatively explore who we want to be. With some of my essays I create audios to help you listen as you move through your day/ movement practise ❤️ how we move matters - where attention goes energy flows.

For some time, I treated joy as though it lived somewhere in the future. Just beyond the next achievement, the next milestone, the next holiday, or the next chapter.

It wasn’t a conscious belief, but it quietly shaped the way I lived. There was always something to finish before I could fully relax. Something to improve before I could truly enjoy where I was. Some invisible finish line that promised, When you get there, you’ll finally feel at peace. But life has a gentle way of exposing the stories we didn’t realise we were living by. . .

Lately, I’ve been noticing something different. Joy doesn’t seem to arrive because everything is perfect. Instead it arrives in the moments when I stop insisting that life should be somewhere else.

It appears in ordinary places.

• The sunlight stretching across the open fields in the morning when I walk Alfie

• A conversation with a dear friend I haven’t seen for years, one that leaves you feeling lighter.

• The satisfaction of moving your body simply because it feels good to do so.

• The deep breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding.

None of these moments change your life overnight. Yet somehow, they change the experience of living it. I wonder if we’ve been taught to think of joy as a reward. Something reserved for birthdays, celebrations and big dreams realised, but perhaps joy has been patiently waiting in the spaces between those moments all along.

Not asking for perfection, only our attention.

As I’ve moved through midlife, I’ve become less interested in chasing extraordinary moments and more interested in cultivating an extraordinary relationship with ordinary ones.

That doesn’t mean every day feels easy. It certainly doesn’t mean life stops presenting challenges.

There are still worries, concerns, disappointments. Days when I feel uncertain, but those moments no longer have to eclipse everything else.

I’ve realised that joy and difficulty are not opposites.

They can exist side by side. You can be navigating change and still laugh until your stomach hurts. You can be carrying responsibility and still feel grateful for the warmth of the sun on your face. You can have unanswered questions and still experience deep contentment.

There was a time in my life where I thought I had to wait until life settled down before I could truly enjoy it, but now I wonder if life was quietly asking me to settle down instead.

To soften my grip. To look up. To notice. Because when we slow down enough to become present, something beautiful happens.

• We stop measuring our lives only by what we’ve accomplished.

• We begin measuring them by how fully we’ve inhabited them.

This feels different to happiness. Happiness often depends on circumstances. Joy feels quieter. Steadier.

It isn’t loud or performative, it doesn’t demand that everything is wonderful. It’s the quiet confidence of knowing you’re living in alignment with what matters most.

I’ve been thinking recently about the qualities I want to carry into this next chapter of my life.

Not goals. Not achievements, but qualities.

Calm. Curiosity. Joy. Inner peace.Presence and Compassion.

When these become my compass, success begins to feel different. It’s no longer something waiting for me in the distance. It’s something I can practise today.

Perhaps that’s one of the greatest gifts of midlife. We slowly stop asking,

‘What do I need to achieve?’

And begin asking,‘How do I want to experience my life?’

They’re very different questions.

One keeps us striving. The other brings us home. And isn’t that the point, we are just walking each other home!

Maybe joy isn’t something we stumble across once we’ve finally got everything figured out. Maybe it’s what quietly appears when we stop rushing through today in search of tomorrow.

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This week as we ‘move inwards’, my invitation for you is to resist the temptation to make joy another thing to accomplish. Instead, become a collector of small moments.

Notice three things each day that make you pause, however briefly.

• The warmth of your morning tea.

• The sound of birdsong before the world gets busy.

• A smile exchanged with a stranger.

• The satisfaction of crossing something off your list.

• The softness of clean sheets.

• A deep breath taken without hurrying.

Don’t judge whether they’re significant enough. Just notice them.

At the end of each day, write them down and then by the end of the week read your list back to yourself before you go to bed. . .

You may discover that joy wasn’t missing after all. It was simply waiting for you to look up, because perhaps a meaningful life isn’t built from extraordinary days. Perhaps it’s built from thousands of ordinary moments that we finally allow ourselves to fully experience.

Remember the hardest part is continuing to show up for yourself with all the things you have to do and accomplish today.

Thank you for continuing to show up here. It’s an absolute pleasure to share this time with you.

❤️ Namaste Tracey Xx

Subscribe now

Please feel free to share You Are Not Alone with loved ones and friends. I trust whoever needs to read my musings will find them as a source of inspiration and hope. They are all written from my heart and offer the opportunity to dive deeper into truth, authenticity and trust.

Share

Moving Inward = Self-care exercises designed to devote time to turning your gaze inwards and spend some precious ‘me time’ as often as possible. This helps to cultivate a beautiful conscious conversation with your body, mind & emotions. Through this process we get to practise listening, to be who we are, and creatively explore who we want to be. With some of my essays I create audios to help you listen as you move through your day/ movement practise ❤️ how we move matters - where attention goes energy flows.

There is a particular kind of waiting that happens in midlife.It doesn’t look like doing nothing.You can be incredibly busy while you’re waiting.

Working, caring, planning, thinking, researching, getting ready.

Telling yourself that one day you’ll have the time.

• One day, you’ll feel more confident.

• One day, you’ll know exactly what you want.

• One day, you’ll have enough money.

• One day, you’ll finally feel like the woman who is ready to begin.

But what if she never arrives? What if the woman you’re waiting to become is already here?

Just waiting for you to trust her. . .

I’ve been thinking about how often we confuse certainty with self-trust. We think we need to know exactly where we’re going before we’re allowed to take a step, but perhaps self-trust isn’t knowing. Perhaps it’s knowing that whatever happens, you’ll listen, adapt, respond and you’ll find your way.

I’ve spent much of my life believing that the next step needed to make sense before I took it. Now I’m beginning to wonder if sometimes we only understand the step because we took it.

There is something about midlife that makes this particularly interesting. We have enough life behind us to know that things rarely unfold exactly as planned.We’ve experienced the unexpected, whether it’s the relationships that changed, the doors that closed, or the opportunities that arrived from nowhere. The things we thought would make us happy that didn’t. The things we never imagined would happen that became some of the most important chapters of our lives, and yet, despite knowing all of this, we still want certainty before we move.

We still want a map. Perhaps because the older we become, the more conscious we are of time. We know there isn’t an infinite number of chapters ahead, and that can make us cautious. . .

We don’t want to get it wrong, so we wait, but there is a cost to waiting for certainty. Sometimes the thing we are calling being sensible is actually fear dressed in very respectable clothing.

Sometimes we say:‘I’m just thinking about it.’

When what we really mean is:‘I’m afraid to find out what happens if I try.’

Sometimes we say:‘It’s not the right time.’

When underneath it is: ‘I don’t know if I trust myself enough to begin.’

And sometimes we tell ourselves we are being patient, when really we are postponing our own lives.

I don’t say this with judgement. I’ve done it too, we all have.

Perhaps this is where embodiment becomes so important.

Because your body often knows before your mind does.

• You can think yourself into circles.

• You can create endless pros and cons.

• You can ask everyone else what they think.

But somewhere underneath all that noise, there is often a quieter knowing.

• A slight expansion when something feels right.

• A softening.

• A sense of energy.

• And sometimes, a contraction.

• A heaviness.

• A subtle no that your mind keeps trying to negotiate with.

This isn’t about blindly following every feeling. It’s about becoming curious enough to listen, because self-trust isn’t built by constantly asking everyone else what you should do. It’s built by learning to hear yourself, and then acting on what you hear (key)!

I wonder if this is one of the great invitations of our next chapter.

• Not to reinvent ourselves.

• Not to become more impressive.

• Not to achieve something extraordinary.

But to become more honest about what is already calling us. Perhaps there’s something you’ve been quietly wanting to do. Something you’ve talked yourself out of, or something you’ve said you’ll do when. . .

When the children are older.

When work settles down.

When my finances are better.

When I lose the weight.

When I have more energy.

When I feel more confident.

When I know exactly how it will work.

But life rarely gives us all the conditions we think we need. At some point, we have to decide whether we’re going to keep waiting for the perfect moment or begin creating a life within the imperfect one we’re actually living.

I don’t think the answer is to throw caution to the wind. There is wisdom in being responsible, in knowing your circumstances, and in taking care of yourself, but there is also a difference between being wise and keeping yourself small.

Perhaps the question isn’t:‘Am I ready?’

Perhaps it’s:‘What would I do if I trusted myself to figure it out as I went?’

That’s a very different question, and perhaps a more liberating one.

I’m beginning to think that defining the next chapter of our lives isn’t always about making a five-year plan. Sometimes it’s much smaller than that.

• It’s saying yes to something that feels alive.

• It’s going for the walk.

• It’s making the phone call.

• It’s signing up for the class.

• It’s writing the first paragraph.

• It’s putting your hand up.

• It’s resting when you need to.

• It’s letting yourself be seen.

• It’s taking yourself seriously.

• It’s looking up from the life you’ve been managing and asking:

‘What is asking to be lived now?’

Then listening. Not perfectly. Not fearlessly.Just honestly.

Perhaps the woman you are becoming isn’t waiting somewhere in the future, perhaps she is already present. She’s in the quiet feeling you keep dismissing, the very idea you keep postponing, the boundary you know you need to set. The desire you haven’t given yourself permission to name.

The part of you that is tired of proving and wants to live with more spaciousness, more truth, more joy.

She may not have all the answers, but perhaps she doesn’t need to. Perhaps she only needs you to stop asking her to guarantee the outcome before you’ll trust her with the beginning.

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My invitation this week as we ‘move inwards’ is to take ten quiet minutes, put your phone somewhere out of reach, and sit somewhere you feel comfortable. Take a few slow, deep breaths and let yourself arrive fully in the moment.

Then ask yourself: What have I been waiting to feel ready for?

Don’t force an answer. Let one thing come to mind.

Then ask: What am I afraid might happen if I begin?

Notice what your body does as you ask this.

• Perhaps something tighten?

• Or do you feel a sense of relief?

• Does a familiar voice appear telling you why it won’t work?

Just notice. Take your time noticing. . .

Then place a hand somewhere that feels comforting. Perhaps over your heart, your belly, your head and ask:

What would trusting myself look like here?

Not guaranteeing yourself. Not knowing exactly how it will turn out. Just trusting that you will stay connected to yourself along the way.

And then finally, the invitation is to ask: What is one small step I could take this week?

Not the whole journey. Just the next step. . .

Then take it my friend. Take the step.

Because perhaps the next chapter doesn’t begin when you finally feel ready. Perhaps it begins when you decide that you are willing to meet yourself along the way, and maybe that’s what self-trust really is.

Not knowing where the road leads, but knowing that you will never abandon yourself as you walk it.

Remember the hardest part is continuing to show up for yourself with all the things you have to do and accomplish today.

Thank you for continuing to show up here. It’s an absolute pleasure to share this time with you.

❤️ Namaste Tracey Xx

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Please feel free to share You Are Not Alone with loved ones and friends. I trust whoever needs to read my musings will find them as a source of inspiration and hope. They are all written from my heart and offer the opportunity to dive deeper into truth, authenticity and trust.

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Moving Inward = Self-care exercises designed to devote time to turning your gaze inwards and spend some precious ‘me time’ as often as possible. This helps to cultivate a beautiful conscious conversation with your body, mind & emotions. Through this process we get to practise listening, to be who we are, and creatively explore who we want to be. With some of my essays I create audios to help you listen as you move through your day/ movement practise ❤️ how we move matters - where attention goes energy flows.

There comes a point in life when you realise you’ve spent far more time becoming who you thought you needed to be than asking yourself who you actually are.

It’s rarely a conscious decision, and it happens quietly.

• You become the dependable one.

• The capable one.

• The strong one.

• The woman who always gets things done.

And because those qualities are praised, you keep reinforcing them. Without noticing that you’ve slowly built a life around proving an identity, rather than expressing one.

I don’t think most women wake up one morning and decide to spend decades proving themselves. I think we simply respond to the environments we’re in.

At work, we prove our competence. In our families, we prove we’re reliable. In friendships, we prove we’re supportive. In our bodies, we prove we’re disciplined.

The proving becomes so familiar that we mistake it for who we are.

Until one day, it feels exhausting, not because we’re doing too much, but because we’re constantly performing a version of ourselves we’ve outgrown.

One of the gifts of midlife is that the performance starts to become harder to sustain.

Not because we’ve become weaker, because we’ve become wiser. The body begins to question what the mind has accepted for years. Your nervous system becomes less willing to tolerate constant pressure. Your energy becomes more precious, and somewhere inside, a quieter voice begins to ask,

‘Is this still me?’

I think that’s one of the most courageous questions we can ask, because it isn’t really about changing your life overnight. It’s about becoming curious enough to redefine it. I’ve been reflecting on this a lot recently.

For years, much of my identity was wrapped up in what I could do.

• Teaching.

• Creating.

• Building businesses.

• Supporting others.

• Achieving.

They were all meaningful chapters, and I wouldn’t change any of them, but they aren’t the whole story. As I’ve moved through midlife, I’ve realised there’s another question waiting underneath all of that.

Not - ‘What can I achieve next?’

But - ‘Who do I want to become while I’m achieving it?’

That feels very different, it changes the pace, it changes the priorities, and it changes the relationship I have with myself.

Defining yourself isn’t about writing a list of goals. It’s about choosing the values you want to live from.

• How do I want to move through the world?

• How do I want people to feel after spending time with me?

What qualities do I want to cultivate, regardless of my circumstances?

Calm.

Curiosity.

Integrity.

Joy.

Inner peace.

Presence.

Compassion.

When those become your compass, success begins to feel different, because you’re no longer measuring your life solely by what you’ve accomplished. You’re measuring it by how you’ve lived.

Perhaps this is why looking after ourselves becomes so important in midlife, not because self-care is another task to tick off, but because it’s much easier to define yourself when you can actually hear yourself, and that’s difficult to do when you’re constantly rushing, constantly reacting, or constantly proving.

Slowing down isn’t stepping away from life. Sometimes it’s the only way to see it clearly.

I’ve started noticing that the women I admire most aren’t necessarily the busiest or the most successful. They’re the ones who seem deeply at home in themselves. There’s a steadiness about them. They don’t appear to be chasing an invisible finish line. They know who they are, and perhaps that’s what gives them such quiet confidence.

Not certainty. Not perfection. Just alignment.

Maybe that’s the invitation waiting for us in midlife.

To stop asking -‘How can I prove myself?’

And start asking -‘How do I want to define myself from here?’

Because one question keeps you chasing. The other brings you home.

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This week as we ‘move inwards’ lets find ten quiet minutes with a notebook. Then at the top of the page, write:

‘Who have I spent years trying to prove myself to?’

Don’t rush the answer. Notice what comes.

Then turn the page and write another question.

‘If I no longer needed to prove anything, how would I choose to live?’

Not next year. Not when life becomes easier.Now.

• Perhaps you’d rest more.

• Perhaps you’d speak more honestly.

• Perhaps you’d move your body because it feels good, not because you feel you should.

• Perhaps you’d say no without guilt.

• Perhaps you’d begin taking up the space you’ve quietly earned over a lifetime.

Sit with whatever arises, because the most meaningful definition of yourself won’t come from the world. It will come from the moments when you become quiet enough to hear your own voice again.

Why I think this essay matters

Looking across everything we’ve created together over the past year, I notice your writing is evolving.

You started by helping women change how they move.

Then you helped them change how they listen.

More recently, you’re helping them change how they see themselves.

That’s a profound evolution.

My invitation this week is to look up my friend, to soften the pressure of proving, and consciously define the next chapter of who you want to be. . .

Remember the hardest part is continuing to show up for yourself with all the things you have to do and accomplish today.

Thank you for continuing to show up here. It’s an absolute pleasure to share this time with you.

❤️ Namaste Tracey Xx

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Please feel free to share You Are Not Alone with loved ones and friends. I trust whoever needs to read my musings will find them as a source of inspiration and hope. They are all written from my heart and offer the opportunity to dive deeper into truth, authenticity and trust.

Share

Moving Inward = Self-care exercises designed to devote time to turning your gaze inwards and spend some precious ‘me time’ as often as possible. This helps to cultivate a beautiful conscious conversation with your body, mind & emotions. Through this process we get to practise listening, to be who we are, and creatively explore who we want to be. With some of my essays I create audios to help you listen as you move through your day/ movement practise ❤️ how we move matters - where attention goes energy flows.

As I’ve been watching the Men’s World Cup unfold, one thing has struck me more than the goals, the tactics or the scoreline.

No one wins alone.

The player who scores the winning goal is often the one whose name makes the headlines, but behind that moment are countless unseen contributions.

The teammate who made the run, the perfectly timed pass, the goalkeeper who kept the team in the game, the coach who saw something others didn’t. The substitutes cheering from the sidelines. Victory belongs to everyone.

And it made me wonder. . .

Why do so many of us try to live our lives as if we’re a team of one?

Many women reach midlife having become incredibly capable. We’ve learned to cope, to organise, to anticipate. to solve problems before anyone else notices them. We become efficient, dependable, and definitely resourceful, and somewhere along the way, our competence quietly becomes our identity.

People begin to rely on us, so we keep showing up. We keep carrying and proving that we’ve got this. Until one day, we realise we’re exhausted.

Last week I wrote about The Hidden Cost of Being the Strong One.

This feels like its quieter companion, because strength, when carried alone for too long, slowly becomes isolation, not dramatic isolation, but he kind where you’re surrounded by people, yet still feel responsible for holding everything together.

I wonder how many of us may secretly believe that asking for help is somehow letting the team down?

When in reality. . . it’s how every great team works.

No football team expects one player to defend, attack, coach, inspire and score every goal. Yet many women expect exactly that of themselves. Perhaps this begins much earlier than we realise. Maybe we were praised for being independent.

• For being easy.

• For not making a fuss.

• For sorting things out ourselves.

Those qualities served us well, until they didn’t, because there comes a point where self-reliance quietly tips into self-protection.

We stop asking. We stop receiving. We stop allowing others the opportunity to contribute. Not because we don’t need them, but because we’ve become more comfortable carrying the weight ourselves.

The irony is that humans were never designed that way. We are wonderfully interdependent.

• Our nervous systems regulate in relationship with others.

• Our joy expands when it’s shared.

• Our grief softens when it’s witnessed.

• Our courage often grows because someone walks beside us.

‘You Are Not Alone.’

When I chose that name for my substack page, it wasn’t simply because it sounded comforting. It was because I genuinely believe one of the greatest illusions many of us carry is that we have to navigate life by ourselves. We don’t. We never did.

Perhaps that’s why I love watching team sports, they remind us that success isn’t built on individual brilliance alone.

• It’s built on trust.

• Communication.

• Shared purpose.

• Knowing when to lead.

• Knowing when to follow.

• Knowing when to pass the ball.

Life asks the same of us. Sometimes we’re the one offering support, and then other times we’re the one receiving it.Both matter equally.

I think one of the quiet invitations of midlife is learning that receiving is not weakness, it’s actually participation, and it allows other people the joy of showing up for us. Just as we’ve shown up for them.

Maybe ‘teamwork makes the dream work’ isn’t just something we say about sport or business. Maybe it’s a reminder about being human, because none of us were meant to carry the whole match. Sometimes our role is simply to trust someone else with the next pass, and perhaps that’s where life begins to feel lighter, not because we’re carrying less, but because we’re no longer carrying it alone.

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This week as we ‘move inwards’ I invite you notice where you instinctively say: ‘It’s okay, I’ll do it.’

See if you can catch it, and then pause, even before the words leave your mouth and instead ask yourself:

Is this genuinely mine to carry?

Or have I become so accustomed to being capable that I’ve forgotten how to receive?

Then choose one small experiment.

1. Ask for help.

2. Accept help.

3. Or simply allow someone else to do something their way, without stepping in.

Then notice what arises.

Relief? Discomfort? Gratitude? Resistance?

There is no right answer. Only awareness, because sometimes the strongest thing we can do isn’t holding everything together. Sometimes it’s trusting that someone else can hold part of it too.

After all. . . even the greatest teams don’t win because one person does everything. They win because everyone plays their part, and perhaps that’s the reminder many of us need, not just during the World Cup, but in the everyday moments of our own lives.

You were never meant to be a team of one.

Remember the hardest part is continuing to show up for yourself with all the things you have to do and accomplish today.

Thank you for continuing to show up here. It’s an absolute pleasure to share this time with you.

❤️ Namaste Tracey Xx

Subscribe now

Please feel free to share You Are Not Alone with loved ones and friends. I trust whoever needs to read my musings will find them as a source of inspiration and hope. They are all written from my heart and offer the opportunity to dive deeper into truth, authenticity and trust.

Share

Moving Inward = Self-care exercises designed to devote time to turning your gaze inwards and spend some precious ‘me time’ as often as possible. This helps to cultivate a beautiful conscious conversation with your body, mind & emotions. Through this process we get to practise listening, to be who we are, and creatively explore who we want to be. With some of my essays I create audios to help you listen as you move through your day/ movement practise ❤️ how we move matters - where attention goes energy flows.

Somewhere along the way, many of us were praised for being the strong one. The one who coped, the one who kept going, and the one who held everything together when life became difficult.

Perhaps you became that woman because there wasn’t another choice. Or perhaps you simply became so good at carrying things that people stopped asking if they were too heavy.

Strength became part of your identity.

And for a long time, it served you well. Until one day. . .It didn’t.

When I think about the women I meet in midlife, I don’t see weakness, what I often see is extraordinary resilience. Women who have navigated careers, relationships, children, ageing parents, grief, disappointment, changing bodies and endless responsibilities.

Women who have become experts at adapting, experts at enduring and experts at putting one foot in front of the other.

The problem isn’t that they’re strong. The problem is they’ve forgotten that strength was never meant to be carried all the time.

There is a subtle difference between being strong and believing you must always be strong.

One is a quality, and the other is a burden.

I’ve started wondering whether many of us mistake endurance for health. We celebrate the woman who never complains. Who rarely asks for help, who keeps smiling, who manages everything with apparent ease. We call her capable. Reliable. Remarkable. But beneath that polished exterior is often a nervous system that has forgotten how to soften. A body that has learned to stay prepared. A woman who feels responsible for everyone else’s wellbeing, while quietly placing her own at the bottom of the list.

The body keeps the score (great book by Bessel Van Der Kolk if you haven’t read it) not in dramatic ways at first, but in quieter ways.

• Tight shoulders.

• Shallow breathing.

• Poor sleep.

• Persistent fatigue.

• A jaw that’s always clenched.

• A mind that never quite switches off.

These aren’t signs that you’re failing. They’re often signs that you’ve been holding yourself together for a very long time.

One of the greatest misconceptions about strength is that it means carrying more.

I’ve come to believe the opposite.

Real strength is knowing what you no longer need to carry. It is having the courage to say, ‘This is too much’ and it is allowing yourself to receive support without feeling you’ve somehow failed.

It is recognising that resilience isn’t built through constant tension. It’s built through the rhythm of effort and recovery.

Holding on. . . and letting go.

Perhaps this is why midlife can feel so unsettling.

The roles that once defined us begin to loosen, and our bodies become less willing to ignore our needs. The nervous system becomes less tolerant of constant overdrive.

It’s almost as though our body gently says,

‘I know you’ve survived this way for a long time. But I don’t think we need to anymore.’

I’ve realised something recently.

For years, I admired women who seemed endlessly capable. Now I admire the women who also know when to pause.

The women who can say, ‘I need help,’ the women who no longer apologise for resting. The women who have stopped measuring their worth by how much they can carry. There is a quiet strength in that, perhaps an even greater one.

Peter Crone often reminds us that suffering isn’t created by life itself, but by the identities we become attached to, and I wonder if ‘the strong one’ is one of the hardest identities to release.

Because if you’re no longer the one who always copes. . . who are you?

It’s a confronting question, but perhaps it’s also a liberating one, because beneath the role is simply a woman.

One who laughs, cries, needs, receives, feels, rests. . . and this is beautiful. A woman who doesn’t have to earn her place through endless resilience.

Maybe the next chapter of your life isn’t asking you to become stronger. Maybe it’s asking you to become softer.

• Not softer in your standards.

• Not softer in your boundaries.

• But softer in the way you hold yourself.

• Softer in the expectations you place upon your own shoulders.

• Softer in the belief that you have to carry everything alone.

Because the strongest women I know aren’t the ones who never bend. They’re the ones who’ve discovered they no longer have to.

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So this week as we ‘move inwards’, notice every time you automatically say:

‘It’s okay, I’ve got it.’

Pause before the words leave your mouth and ask yourself:

Do I truly have it. . . or is this simply the role I’ve become accustomed to playing?

Then choose one small act of receiving. As an example;

• Allow someone to help.

• Accept a compliment without dismissing it.

• Rest before you’ve earned it.

• Leave something unfinished.

• Let someone else carry part of the load.

As you do, notice what arises.

Discomfort? Relief? Guilt? Freedom?

Simply observe, because awareness is where every meaningful shift begins, and perhaps the strongest thing you’ll do this week isn’t carrying more. Perhaps it’s discovering that you no longer have to carry quite so much.

Enjoy receiving this week my dear friend. . .

Remember the hardest part is continuing to show up for yourself with all the things you have to do and accomplish today.

Thank you for continuing to show up here. It’s an absolute pleasure to share this time with you.

❤️ Namaste Tracey Xx

Subscribe now

Please feel free to share You Are Not Alone with loved ones and friends. I trust whoever needs to read my musings will find them as a source of inspiration and hope. They are all written from my heart and offer the opportunity to dive deeper into truth, authenticity and trust.

Share

Moving Inward = Self-care exercises designed to devote time to turning your gaze inwards and spend some precious ‘me time’ as often as possible. This helps to cultivate a beautiful conscious conversation with your body, mind & emotions. Through this process we get to practise listening, to be who we are, and creatively explore who we want to be. With some of my essays I create audios to help you listen as you move through your day/ movement practise ❤️ how we move matters - where attention goes energy flows.

Imagine for a moment someone introducing you to a room full of strangers. Not by your name, not by your work, not by where you live or what you’ve achieved, but by the role you’ve played for most of your life. . .

‘This is Tracey. She’s the one who keeps everything together.’

Or perhaps:

• ‘She’s the strong one.’

• ‘The dependable one.’

• ‘The one who never lets people down.’

• ‘The one everyone turns to when things fall apart.’

How does that feel?

Does it feel comforting? Accurate perhaps? Or maybe, if you’re honest with yourself, a little heavy?

Most of us don’t realise it, but we spend years living inside identities we never consciously chose.

They emerge slowly, through family, through expectations, through praise, or through survival.

Perhaps you were the responsible child.

The peacemaker. The achiever. The caretaker.

• The one who learned early that being needed felt safer than having needs.

• The one who learned that being useful earned love.

• The one who learned that being strong meant never falling apart.

At first, these identities serve us, they actually help us navigate life and give us a sense of belonging, a sense of certainty - a place in the world.

The trouble is that what begins as a strategy can eventually become a prison, because after years of repeating the same role, we stop seeing it as something we do, and we start believing it’s who we are.

I see this often in women in midlife. Women who have spent decades caring for others. Holding families together, supporting their partners, building careers, showing up and keeping going, being everything for everyone, and then one day they arrive at a quiet but uncomfortable question:

What if I don’t want to carry this anymore?

Not because they’re selfish, or because they’re failing, and not because they’ve stopped caring, but because the role no longer fits the woman they are becoming.

Midlife has a way of exposing the identities we’ve outgrown. The body becomes less willing to override itself, and our nervous system becomes less tolerant of constant self-abandonment. The old ways of coping begin to feel expensive.

• What once felt like strength can start to feel exhausting.

• What once felt noble can start to feel restrictive.

• What once felt necessary can begin to feel optional.

And yet letting go isn’t easy either, because identities offer something powerful. . . they offer certainty.

If I’m the strong one, I know who I am.

If I’m the helper, I know my place.

If I’m the achiever, I know how to earn my worth.

My question is:

What happens when those identities are no longer needed?

Or perhaps more importantly. . .

What happens when they are no longer serving you?

I think this is where many women find themselves in midlife.

Not having an identity crisis, but having an identity awakening.

Beginning to recognise that the role they’ve played is not the same thing as who they are. Beginning to see the difference between:

‘I am strong.’

And:

‘I have spent years believing I must always be strong.’

Those are very different things.

One expands you and the other confines you.

If you haven’t heard of Peter Crone then I highly recommend his work. I am really enjoying his approach to true freedom, he often asks a deceptively simple question:

“Who would you be without that story?”

Not who would you become. Who are you already? Beneath the story.

Beneath the role. Beneath the identity you’ve spent years maintaining.

It’s a confronting question for many, because many of us have invested enormous amounts of energy protecting these identities.

They’ve helped us survive, succeed, and helped us belong, but survival and freedom are not always the same thing.

Recently I’ve been reflecting on this in my own life.

Noticing how easy it is to stay attached to versions of ourselves simply because they are familiar.

Even when they no longer fit, even when they require enormous effort to maintain, and even when life itself seems to be inviting something different.

Perhaps one of the great invitations of midlife is not to become more, but to become less attached.

• Less attached to who you think you have to be.

• Less attached to the stories that once protected you.

• Less attached to identities that were built for a chapter that has already ended.

Because there is a surprising amount of freedom waiting on the other side.

Freedom to rest.

Freedom to receive.

Freedom to disappoint people occasionally.

Freedom to be supported.

Freedom to be human.

And perhaps most importantly:

Freedom to discover who you are when you’re no longer busy performing who you’ve always been.

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With this thought in mind, this week as we ‘move inwards’ let’s find a quiet moment today and grab your journal and complete this sentence:

‘The role I have played for most of my life is...’

Don’t overthink it, simply write what comes. Perhaps it’s. . .

• The strong one.

• The helper.

• The achiever.

• The fixer.

• The caretaker.

• The peacemaker.

• The independent one.

Then ask yourself:

What has this role given me?

Take your time here as there will be gifts, strengths and lessons, take time to appreciate them all. . .

Then ask:

What has this role cost me?

Be honest with yourself. What have you had to suppress, sacrifice, or carry in order to maintain it?

Then finally, place one hand on your heart and ask:

Who am I when I stop trying to be this all the time?

Please don’t rush for an answer, let the question work on you, because sometimes the next chapter doesn’t begin with adding something new, instead sometimes it begins with putting something down, and discovering what remains.

It’s powerful!

Remember the hardest part is continuing to show up for yourself with all the things you have to do and accomplish today.

Thank you for continuing to show up here. It’s an absolute pleasure to share this time with you.

❤️ Namaste Tracey Xx

Subscribe now

Please feel free to share You Are Not Alone with loved ones and friends. I trust whoever needs to read my musings will find them as a source of inspiration and hope. They are all written from my heart and offer the opportunity to dive deeper into truth, authenticity and trust.

Share

Moving Inward = Self-care exercises designed to devote time to turning your gaze inwards and spend some precious ‘me time’ as often as possible. This helps to cultivate a beautiful conscious conversation with your body, mind & emotions. Through this process we get to practise listening, to be who we are, and creatively explore who we want to be. With some of my essays I create audios to help you listen as you move through your day/ movement practise ❤️ how we move matters - where attention goes energy flows.

The word trigger gets used a lot these days.

‘I’m triggered.’

‘That really triggered me.’

‘She’s triggering.’

‘That situation was triggering.’

And while there is truth in the language, I’ve been wondering lately if we’ve become a little too focused on the trigger itself, because if we’re not careful, we can spend our lives trying to manage the outside world instead of understanding what’s happening within us.

Imagine two women receiving the exact same comment.

One shrugs and moves on with her day, and the other thinks about it for three days. . .

Same comment, completely different experience. Why?

Because the trigger isn’t the event, the trigger is the meaning attached to the event, and for me this is where things become interesting, because most of us aren’t reacting to what happened. We’re reacting to what we believe it says about us.

• A friend doesn’t return a message.

• Someone overlooks our contribution.

• A partner seems distracted.

• We don’t get the opportunity we hoped for.

• A younger woman walks into the room looking confident and radiant.

None of these things are inherently painful, what hurts is the story that arrives a split second later. . .

I don’t matter.

I’m invisible.

I’m falling behind.

I’m not enough.

And if we’re honest, many of our triggers point back to remarkably similar places, different circumstances, but the same wound.

I’ve noticed this particularly in midlife, not because we become more fragile, but because life starts removing some of the distractions that once kept us busy.

In midlife we become more aware of ourselves, perhaps more aware of old patterns, and more aware of the beliefs we’ve been carrying for decades.

What if the thing triggering you isn’t showing you what’s wrong?

What if it’s showing you what still wants your attention?

That feels like a very different conversation.

Not:‘How do I stop being triggered?’

But: ‘What is this reaction trying to show me?’

Because triggers can be teachers, all be it, uncomfortable teachers, certainly, but teachers nonetheless. They reveal where we’re still seeking validation, where we may be still questioning our worth, or where we’re still negotiating our value.

Perhaps the greatest trigger of all is not criticism, or rejection, or disappointment. Perhaps it’s the fear that there is something fundamentally wrong with us, because if we believe that, almost everything becomes personal.

• Every setback.

• Every silence.

• Every comparison.

• Every perceived failure.

But what happens when we stop believing that story?

What happens when we begin from a different place?

A place that says: There is nothing wrong with me.

Not perfect, not finished and not beyond growth, but fundamentally whole, because from that place, life still happens.

People still disappoint us, things don’t always go to plan, the world remains unpredictable, but our relationship to those experiences changes, because they stop defining us. The trigger loses some of its power, not because life got easier, but because we stopped making every experience a referendum on our worth.

Perhaps healing isn’t about becoming un-triggerable. Perhaps it’s about becoming less available for the stories that keep telling you you’re not enough, and that’s a very different kind of freedom.

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So as we ‘move inwards’ today consider this, the next time you feel triggered, see if you can resist the urge to immediately analyse the situation, and instead simply pause.

Take a slow deep breath. And ask yourself:

What am I making this mean about me?

Then write down the first answer that comes.

Don’t edit it. Don’t judge it. Simply notice.

Then ask: Is this absolutely true?

Or is it an old story looking for evidence?

Finally, place one hand on your heart and one hand on your belly, and feel the support of your body beneath your hands, and gently remind yourself:

This experience is happening, but it is not who I am.

Stay there for a few deep breaths, and try to not change anything. Just allow yourself to separate the event from the story. Sometimes that’s where freedom begins. . .

Remember the hardest part is continuing to show up for yourself with all the things you have to do and accomplish today.

Thank you for continuing to show up here. It’s an absolute pleasure to share this time with you.

❤️ Namaste Tracey Xx

Subscribe now

Please feel free to share You Are Not Alone with loved ones and friends. I trust whoever needs to read my musings will find them as a source of inspiration and hope. They are all written from my heart and offer the opportunity to dive deeper into truth, authenticity and trust.

Share

Moving Inward = Self-care exercises designed to devote time to turning your gaze inwards and spend some precious ‘me time’ as often as possible. This helps to cultivate a beautiful conscious conversation with your body, mind & emotions. Through this process we get to practise listening, to be who we are, and creatively explore who we want to be. With some of my essays I create audios to help you listen as you move through your day/ movement practise ❤️ how we move matters - where attention goes energy flows.

I caught myself saying it recently, not out loud.

Just quietly, to myself.

‘I thought I’d have more freedom by now.’

Perhaps you’ve had your own version.

• I thought I’d be earning more by now.

• I thought I’d feel more confident by now.

• I thought I’d have figured this out by now.

• I thought things would be easier by now.

On the surface, these thoughts seem harmless, reasonable, even. But when I sat with it, I realised something. The problem wasn’t my circumstances, the problem was the pressure hidden inside the word should.

There is a subtle burden many of us carry through midlife.

Not the responsibilities.

Not the commitments.

Not even the challenges.

The burden of comparing our actual life to an imagined timeline.

A timeline we created years ago, often unconsciously. It was a picture of how life was supposed to unfold.

• What we were supposed to achieve.

• How we were supposed to feel.

• Who we were supposed to become.

And when your reality doesn’t match the picture? We suffer.

Not because our life is wrong, but because we are arguing with what is.

I see this often in women, intelligent and capable women. Women who have raised families, built careers, cared for others, survived loss, adapted to change and shown incredible resilience, and yet they quietly carry this feeling that they are somehow behind.

Not because they are, but because life hasn’t followed the script they wrote twenty years ago. The irony is that this pressure rarely motivates us.

In fact it does the opposite, it creates tension.

Self-judgement, possibly frustration, and a nervous system that feels constantly braced. And when we’re braced, we don’t move forward very well.

• We hesitate.

• We overthink.

• We second-guess.

• We become exhausted by the weight of trying to catch up to a version of life that only exists in our imagination.

What if nothing has gone wrong?

What if you’re not behind?

What if you’re simply here, living the chapter you’re in.

This doesn’t mean abandoning your dreams, it doesn’t mean settling, and it doesn’t mean pretending everything is perfect. It means releasing the belief that your worth is tied to a timeline.

A subtle shift I’ve been practising recently is this:

Instead of saying:

‘I should have more freedom by now.’

I say:

‘I’m in the phase of building my next chapter.’

Can you feel the difference?

One creates pressure → The other creates possibility.

One implies failure → The other acknowledges process.

One keeps you looking backwards → The other invites you forwards.

And your body feels that difference too, because every thought carries a physiological response. When we tell ourselves we’re behind, the nervous system responds accordingly.

Urgency. Stress. Contraction.

But when we recognise that we’re still building, still learning, still becoming, something softens.

Our nervous system relaxes, and from that place, we often make better decisions.

More creative decisions. More aligned decisions.

Perhaps the invitation isn’t to work harder.

Perhaps it’s to stop carrying the invisible pressure of where you think you should be.

To stop measuring your life against an outdated expectation, and to stop making your present self wrong.

Because this chapter of your life isn’t late.

It isn’t delayed. It isn’t a mistake. It’s simply where your life is unfolding.

And when you stop fighting that reality, you free up an extraordinary amount of energy. Energy that can finally be used to create what comes next. . .

Not from pressure → but from possibility.

Not from self-judgement → but from self-trust.

And that is a very different place to build from. Would you agree?

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As we ‘move inwards’ this week grab your journals and lets take a few quiet moments to complete this sentence:

‘I thought I would have ______ by now.’

Don’t over analyse it, instead just write whatever arises.

Now ask yourself: What feeling do I imagine that would give me?

More freedom?

More security?

More peace?

More confidence?

More belonging?

Then ask one final question: Is there a small way I can experience a little more of that feeling today, exactly as life is?

Not when everything changes, not when you finally arrive, but today, because perhaps the life you’re building isn’t behind schedule, perhaps it’s unfolding exactly as it’s meant to, one beautiful step at a time.

Remember the hardest part is continuing to show up for yourself with all the things you have to do and accomplish today.

Thank you for continuing to show up here. It’s an absolute pleasure to share this time with you.

❤️ Namaste Tracey Xx

Subscribe now

Please feel free to share You Are Not Alone with loved ones and friends. I trust whoever needs to read my musings will find them as a source of inspiration and hope. They are all written from my heart and offer the opportunity to dive deeper into truth, authenticity and trust.

Share

Moving Inward = Self-care exercises designed to devote time to turning your gaze inwards and spend some precious ‘me time’ as often as possible. This helps to cultivate a beautiful conscious conversation with your body, mind & emotions. Through this process we get to practise listening, to be who we are, and creatively explore who we want to be. With some of my essays I create audios to help you listen as you move through your day/ movement practise ❤️ how we move matters - where attention goes energy flows.

I caught myself doing it again recently. Mentally rehearsing a future version of my life. The one where things feel easier, where certain goals have been achieved, and the one where the financial pressure has softened, the uncertainty has settled, and everything has somehow fallen into place.

Would you agree, it’s a habit I think many of us have?

We live here, but we lean there - Towards the next chapter, the next milestone, the next version of ourselves, and the next thing that will finally allow us to exhale.

And yet, while we’re busy anticipating life, life is quietly unfolding without us.

There is a subtle assumption many of us carry.

That happiness, peace, freedom, confidence, fulfilment are waiting somewhere ahead. Just over the horizon, one achievement away, one decision away, or maybe one breakthrough away.

And so we spend years orientating ourselves towards a future moment when everything will somehow make more sense.

When life will feel complete, when we will finally arrive, but what if that moment never comes?

Not because life is disappointing, but because arrival was never the point.

I’ve noticed that some of the most beautiful moments in my life were never planned. They weren’t attached to a goal, they weren’t achievements, they weren’t things I spent years chasing.

They were moments.

• A conversation with a dear friend.

• A sunset.

• The feeling when Alfie my dog is asleep beside me.

• A meal shared with my husband David.

• A deep breath after a difficult season.

Beautiful ordinary things. Except they weren’t ordinary at all, they were life.

The irony is that we often miss the very thing we’re searching for. Not because it’s unavailable, but because we’re looking beyond it.

Midlife has taught me this more than any other chapter. Perhaps because time starts to feel different.

More precious. More visible. Less infinite.

You become aware that life isn’t something waiting to begin.

It’s already happening. Right now. In the middle of doing the laundry. The changing body, the unfinished plans, the uncertainty, the joy, the grief, the beauty and the mess.

And this is where presence becomes less of a mindfulness concept and more of a way of living. because presence isn’t about sitting cross-legged on a meditation cushion trying not to think.

Presence is participation. It’s allowing yourself to fully inhabit the moment you’re already in.

The trouble is that the mind doesn’t particularly like the present moment. The present moment offers very little control.

• The future feels safer.

• The future is where planning lives.

• The future is where certainty pretends to exist.

• The future gives the mind something to do.

But the body only ever lives here. not tomorrow, not next year, not when everything works out.

Here. Now. This breath. This heartbeat. This moment.

And perhaps that’s why so many women feel exhausted. Not simply because they are doing too much, but because they are carrying themselves into futures that haven’t happened yet.

Rehearsing conversations, predicting outcomes, managing possibilities, preparing for problems, or trying to solve tomorrow before today has even finished.

The nervous system feels all of that.

Because to the body, imagined stress and real stress can feel remarkably similar.

Which means many of us are living two lives simultaneously:

The one that is actually happening - And the one we’re mentally preparing for.

What if we released that burden, even briefly?

What if we stopped negotiating with the future?

What if we trusted that tomorrow’s version of us will meet tomorrow’s challenges?

There is a freedom that arrives when you stop asking life to be different before allowing yourself to be present with it.

Not because everything suddenly becomes easy, but because resistance softens, and the fight relaxes. The constant negotiation with reality begins to loosen its grip.

This doesn’t mean abandoning dreams, or ambition, or desire. It simply means refusing to postpone your life until they arrive.

The future will come as it always does, but today is where your life is actually being lived.

Not someday. Not when. Not after. Now.

And perhaps the greatest form of success isn’t getting everything you want. Perhaps it’s learning how to be fully alive in the middle of what already is, because when you stop waiting for life to begin. . . you realise it never stopped. It was here all along.

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So today as we ‘move inwards’ lets finish with a longer reflective practice called The Five-Minute Return

Sit somewhere comfortable and place both feet on the floor. Without changing anything, simply notice:

• Five things you can see

• Four things you can feel

• Three things you can hear

• Two things you can smell

• One thing you’re grateful to be experiencing today

Then ask yourself:

‘If nothing in my life changed for the next six months, what is already here that I am not fully appreciating?’

Stay with the question.

Not to force gratitude, but to notice what your attention has been overlooking. Sometimes the life we’re longing for is hiding inside the life we’re already living.

Remember the hardest part is continuing to show up for yourself with all the things you have to do and accomplish today.

Thank you for continuing to show up here. It’s an absolute pleasure to share this time with you.

❤️ Namaste Tracey Xx

Subscribe now

Please feel free to share You Are Not Alone with loved ones and friends. I trust whoever needs to read my musings will find them as a source of inspiration and hope. They are all written from my heart and offer the opportunity to dive deeper into truth, authenticity and trust.

Share

Moving Inward = Self-care exercises designed to devote time to turning your gaze inwards and spend some precious ‘me time’ as often as possible. This helps to cultivate a beautiful conscious conversation with your body, mind & emotions. Through this process we get to practise listening, to be who we are, and creatively explore who we want to be. With some of my essays I create audios to help you listen as you move through your day/ movement practise ❤️ how we move matters - where attention goes energy flows.

There’s a version of success we’ve been quietly sold. It’s polished. It’s impressive. It’s visible. It’s the house, the relationship, the bank balance, the ‘I made it’ moment that can be pointed to and admired.

And yet, if you’re honest you’ve probably met people who have all of that and still feel unsettled inside.

Still chasing. Still questioning. Still not quite at peace.

So what if we’ve misunderstood success entirely?

What if the greatest form of success isn’t what you build out there, but how you feel in here?

I’ve been sitting with a simple, but quietly radical idea:

That inner peace with who you are is the highest form of success.

• Not fixing yourself.

• Not improving every flaw.

• Not constantly trying to become a better version of you.

Just being at peace with what already is.

For most of us, life becomes a subtle (or not so subtle) resistance.

• We resist our circumstances.

• We resist our emotions.

• We resist our thoughts.

• We argue with what’s happening:

This shouldn’t be like this. I shouldn’t feel this way. I need to do better.

And underneath it all is a quiet, persistent tension, a sense that something isn’t quite right, but what if the tension isn’t coming from life itself. . .

What if it’s coming from our resistance to it?

Notice how much energy goes into self-criticism.

• The running commentary.

• The second-guessing.

• The internal corrections.

It’s exhausting, and the strangest part? We’ve normalised it.

We’ve come to believe that being hard on ourselves is productive. That self-judgement is what keeps us evolving. That without it, we’d somehow fall apart.

But look closely.

Has that voice ever truly brought you peace?

Or has it just kept you in motion always reaching, never arriving?

There’s another way to live.

• A quieter way.

• A softer way.

• A more honest way.

It begins the moment you stop arguing with yourself. Not because everything is perfect, and not because you’ve figured it all out, but because you no longer believe that fighting yourself is the path to freedom.

Inner peace isn’t about silencing your thoughts. It’s about changing your relationship with them.

You can still have doubt. . . without becoming it.

You can still feel fear. . . without needing to fix it.

You can still experience uncertainty. . . without making it mean something has gone wrong.

There is a version of you that can hold all of it, without resistance. And when that shift happens, something surprising unfolds.

Life begins to feel. . . lighter. Not because your circumstances have suddenly changed, but because you’re no longer in constant opposition to them.

• You’re not gripping so tightly.

• You’re not forcing outcomes.

• You’re not trying to control every next step.

• You’re allowing.

Allowing conversations to unfold.

Allowing emotions to move through.

Allowing life to be as it is, without immediately needing it to be different.

This doesn’t mean you stop caring, or that you become passive.It means your actions come from clarity instead of pressure. From presence instead of fear, and from a grounded sense of self, rather than a need to prove or fix something.

There’s a deep kind of confidence that lives here. Not the loud, performative kind, but a steady, unshakeable knowing:

I am okay as I am.

I can meet life as it comes.

I don’t need to be at war with myself to move forward.

And from this place, something beautiful happens.

You still grow. You still evolve.You still create, achieve, expand.

But it’s no longer driven by lack, instead it’s driven by alignment. So maybe success isn’t the moment everything falls into place. Maybe it’s the moment you stop needing it to.

Maybe it’s the quiet realisation that you can sit with yourself, exactly as you are and feel no urge to escape.

No urge to criticise.No urge to become someone else.Just a simple, grounded sense of:

This is me.

And I’m at peace with that.

That kind of success won’t always be visible to others.

It won’t always be celebrated, but it changes everything.

Because when you’re no longer resisting life, you’re finally available to experience it.

Fully. Honestly. As it unfolds.

And that, in itself, might be the most successful life there is.

Inner peace with who you are - is the greatest form of success, not resisting life, not resisting your inner dialogue, you are not berating yourself, criticising yourself, you are allowing life to unfold in the way it does. . .

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A simple ‘moving inward’ practice which quietly invites you to return to yourself. This isn’t about fixing anything, instead it’s about noticing.

Find a moment in your day today (no need for perfect conditions).

Just a pause, to sit, or stand, or even walk slowly.

And begin here:

Gently bring your attention inward.

Not to change what’s there but to witness it.

What’s present right now?

A thought?

A feeling?

A subtle tension in your body?

Let it be there.

Resist the urge to label it as good or bad. Resist the habit of trying to improve it.

Just notice.

If your mind begins its usual commentary

I shouldn’t feel like this

This isn’t right

I need to sort this out

See if you can take a small step back, and instead, quietly say to yourself:

This too is allowed.

Stay here for a few breaths.

This too is allowed.

This too is allowed.

Not forcing calm. Not searching for peace.

Just allowing what is. . . to be. And in that space, something shifts. Not always dramatically. Sometimes almost imperceptibly.

But there’s a softening, a loosening of the grip. Perhaps a sense that you don’t need to fight this moment to be okay.

Come back to this, again and again.

Not as a discipline, but as a returning.

Because inner peace isn’t something you achieve, it’s something you remember.

Remember the hardest part is continuing to show up for yourself with all the things you have to do and accomplish today.

Thank you for continuing to show up here. It’s an absolute pleasure to share this time with you.

❤️ Namaste Tracey Xx

Subscribe now

Please feel free to share You Are Not Alone with loved ones and friends. I trust whoever needs to read my musings will find them as a source of inspiration and hope. They are all written from my heart and offer the opportunity to dive deeper into truth, authenticity and trust.

Share

Moving Inward = Self-care exercises designed to devote time to turning your gaze inwards and spend some precious ‘me time’ as often as possible. This helps to cultivate a beautiful conscious conversation with your body, mind & emotions. Through this process we get to practise listening, to be who we are, and creatively explore who we want to be. I hope the audios that I create with each essay helps you with this ❤️ how we move matters - where attention goes energy flows.

Why I Hold Back (and why you might too) - There are rooms where I arrive as myself. Open. Warm. Unfiltered. Words flowing easily, laughter rising without effort, a quiet sense of this is me settling into my body, and then there are rooms where I don’t.

Nothing dramatic, no obvious alarm bells but something in me gently pulls back. My shoulders draw in, my words become more considered and I listen more than I speak. I choose carefully, what to share, what to hold, what version of me feels most appropriate here. It’s subtle, refined, but it’s there.

And if I’m really honest, I’ve spent years wondering:

Why do I do this?

Because I know I’m not alone in it.

The quiet art of self-protection I used to think this meant I wasn’t being fully myself, that I was somehow. . . dimming myself and holding back.

Perhaps not quite brave enough to just say the thing, be the thing, show the thing, but I see it differently now.

This isn’t weakness, instead I believe it’s intelligence.

Somewhere along the way (through moments we may not even consciously remember) we learned something about people, about rooms, about energy. We learned that not every space is safe for our full expression.

Maybe it was being spoken over, or misunderstood, or feeling the subtle shift when we said something that didn’t quite land.

Our system remembers. It keeps a quiet record:

• Here, soften a little.

• Here, observe first.

• Here, don’t give everything away all at once, and so we don’t.

Not because we’re inauthentic, but because we’re attuned.

The pull between belonging and truth

There’s a tension many of us carry, often without naming it. The desire to belong and the desire to be fully, unapologetically ourselves, and sometimes, those two don’t feel aligned. So we negotiate, and we round off the edges of an opinion, and keep a deeper thought to ourselves. We agree outwardly, while feeling something different inwardly. We become slightly more palatable. Not fake. Not false. Just. . .adjusted.

Because belonging matters, and it always has.

Being accepted has long been linked to safety. So when a room feels uncertain, our system doesn’t ask,

‘Am I expressing my truth?’

It asks, ‘Am I safe here?’

And safety, more often than not, takes the lead.

Not every room is meant to hold you

This is the shift that’s been quietly changing things for me. It’s not that I struggle to be myself, it’s that not every environment feels like it can hold me, and I’m learning that’s not a flaw, instead it’s discernment, because when I’m in the right spaces (with the right people) there is no effort. I don’t rehearse sentences in my head, I don’t soften what I really think, I don’t feel that subtle tightening in my body, instead I just . . am.

And perhaps the goal was never to be fully open in every room. Perhaps the real invitation is to become more honest about which rooms deserve access to you.

A softer way forward

I’m no longer trying to override that instinct in me that holds back, I’m listening to it, respecting it and gently updating it.

Reminding myself:

• I’m not in every past environment anymore.

• I have more choice now.

• I can decide where I open and where I don’t.

Because authenticity isn’t about saying everything, everywhere. It’s about alignment, and it’s about feeling safe enough in your body to let more of yourself come forward—naturally, not forcefully, and sometimes, that starts very quietly.

A slightly more honest sentence.

A thought shared without over-editing.

A gentle ‘actually, I see it differently.’ Just a few degrees closer to truth.

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Maybe this is where it really begins, not out there in the room, but in here.

Because before I can feel safe being fully myself with others, I have to feel safe being fully myself with me.

So I’ve started asking softer questions:

Where do I still feel the need to edit myself and why?

What am I protecting, and is it still needed?

Which parts of me am I keeping hidden, even when I’m alone?

No judgement. No rush to change anything. Just noticing, and sitting with it. Allowing whatever comes up to be seen.

Because the more I create safety within myself, the less I rely on every external environment to give it to me.

And for me something shifted, the guard doesn’t have to work quite so hard, and my internal dialogue softens.

There’s more space. . . to simply be.

It didn’t happen all at once, not perfectly but honestly.

And maybe that’s the real work. . .

Not forcing ourselves to be fully expressed in every room, but becoming the kind of person who feels at home within ourself, wherever we are.

So as we ‘move inwards’ this week I recommend starting with asking yourself these three softer questions:

Where do you still feel the need to edit yourself and why?

What are you protecting, and is it still needed?

Which parts of you are you keeping hidden, even when you’re alone?

Take a moment to move your body (go for a nice walk, yoga / movement class etc) and then grab your journal, write your thoughts down and then read them back to yourself out loud.

Remember the hardest part is continuing to show up for yourself with all the things you have to do and accomplish today.

Thank you for continuing to show up here. It’s an absolute pleasure to share this time with you.

❤️ Namaste Tracey Xx

Subscribe now

Please feel free to share You Are Not Alone with loved ones and friends. I trust whoever needs to read my musings will find them as a source of inspiration and hope. They are all written from my heart and offer the opportunity to dive deeper into truth, authenticity and trust.

Share

Moving Inward = Self-care exercises designed to devote time to turning your gaze inwards and spend some precious ‘me time’ as often as possible. This helps to cultivate a beautiful conscious conversation with your body, mind & emotions. Through this process we get to practise listening, to be who we are, and creatively explore who we want to be. I hope the audios that I create with each essay helps you with this ❤️ how we move matters - where attention goes energy flows.

There’s something I’ve been sitting with recently.

A thread that keeps appearing in conversations, in my reflections, in the quieter moments when I’m not trying to solve anything.

It’s this:

We spend a lot of our lives trying to get something, without always recognising what we actually want.

We say we want more money.
More success.
More stability.

But if we’re honest, that’s not really it.

What we want is what we believe those things will give us.

Freedom.
Security.
A sense that we can finally relax. That we’re. . . okay

And yet, I see so many capable, thoughtful women doing all the ‘right’ things but still feeling a low, persistent undercurrent of something else.

Insecurity.
Scarcity.
A quiet sense of not quite being enough.

Not loudly, but subtly woven into the way they think, move, respond to life, and this is where it becomes more interesting.

Because this isn’t about effort, it’s not about trying harder or getting more right, it’s about something far more foundational.

The relationship you have with yourself.

You can build a life that looks successful on the outside and still feel unsettled on the inside, because if your inner world is shaped by:

I’m not quite there yet
Something is missing
I need to be different to feel okay

Then no external outcome fully resolves that. Instead it just moves the goalpost.

This is the quiet pattern I see so often.

Not failure. Not lack of discipline, but a set of internal beliefs often so familiar we don’t even question them, and midlife has a way of bringing this into sharper focus. Because the strategies that once worked (striving, pushing, achieving) don’t quite deliver the same sense of resolution.

You arrive. . . and still feel like you’re searching. So something begins to shift, not always by choice but by necessity.

The question becomes less about: What do I need to get?

And more about: What is shaping how I feel — right now?

Because how you experience your life is not only determined by what’s happening, it’s shaped by how you are meeting it.

Your perspective.
Your internal dialogue.
The way you relate to yourself in the quiet moments no one else sees.

This is where real change begins, not outside of you, but within the way you are perceiving yourself and your life.

There is a very simple — but not always easy — shift here.

To begin allowing, rather than resisting.

• Allowing your thoughts without immediately believing them.

• Allowing your emotions without trying to override them.

• Allowing your life to be where it is, without constant self-criticism layered on top.

Because inner peace isn’t something you arrive at once everything is sorted, instead it’s something that becomes available when you stop fighting yourself along the way, and this is the part that often gets misunderstood.

Self-acceptance is not complacency. It doesn’t mean you stop growing, it means you stop relating to yourself as if something is fundamentally wrong. There is a different way of being here.

One that sounds almost too simple: I am okay being me.

Not perfect.
Not finished.
But not broken.

From that place, something shifts.

Your nervous system settles.
Your decisions become clearer.
Your energy becomes more consistent.

Not because your life has dramatically changed, but because the way you are experiencing it has, and this is where the idea of ‘manifestation’ becomes more grounded.

It’s not about waiting for something external to arrive so you can feel better. It’s about recognising that the way you feel — your emotional baseline — is already shaping your life.

• If you move through your days with a quiet sense of lack, you will experience your life through that lens.

• If you move through your days with a growing sense of sufficiency, something different begins to open.

Not instantly. Not perfectly, but perceptibly.

This isn’t about pretending everything is positive. it’s about becoming aware of the patterns you are living inside, and gently, steadily, shifting them.

Not by force, but through awareness. Through honesty and through a willingness to see yourself differently, because the life you are creating is not only built from what you do.

It is shaped, moment by moment, by how you feel about who you are while you’re doing it.

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This week let’s explore a ‘moving inward’ practice for shifting how you meet yourself. . .

Take a moment to pause.

Sit somewhere quietly.

Let your body settle.

Ask yourself gently:

What do I believe I need, in order to feel okay?

Let the answers come without filtering.

Money.
Time.
Recognition.
Change.

Then ask:

And what do I believe that will give me?

Freedom?
Safety?
Peace?

Now, bring your attention to your body.

And ask:

Is there a small way I can begin to feel a fraction of that — here, now?

Not fully.

Just a little.

A softer breath.
A release of tension.
A moment of not criticising yourself.

Place a hand on your body, and gently introduce a new thought:

Maybe I am more okay than I’ve been allowing myself to feel.

You don’t need to force it, just let it sit, because the shift you’re looking for may not come from getting more, but from relating to yourself differently, right here.

Remember the hardest part is continuing to show up for yourself with all the things you have to do and accomplish today.

Thank you for continuing to show up here. It’s an absolute pleasure to share this time with you.

❤️ Namaste Tracey Xx

Subscribe now

Please feel free to share You Are Not Alone with loved ones and friends. I trust whoever needs to read my musings will find them as a source of inspiration and hope. They are all written from my heart and offer the opportunity to dive deeper into truth, authenticity and trust.

Share

Moving Inward = Self-care exercises designed to devote time to turning your gaze inwards and spend some precious ‘me time’ as often as possible. This helps to cultivate a beautiful conscious conversation with your body, mind & emotions. Through this process we get to practise listening, to be who we are, and creatively explore who we want to be. I hope the audios that I create with each essay helps you with this ❤️ how we move matters - where attention goes energy flows.

There’s a quiet tension I’ve been sitting with recently, not the kind that shouts, but the kind that hums in the background of daily life. A sense of holding two truths at once.

On one hand, there is the work I feel deeply connected to. The work that feels like an extension of who I am, the conversations, the movement, the slower, more intentional way of supporting women in their bodies. The work that feels meaningful, aligned and alive.

And on the other hand, there is the work that life is asking of me right now. The practical, necessary kind. The kind that provides stability, that asks for consistency, and that supports the reality of where things are, not just where I would like them to be.

At the moment, that looks like long days, physical work, and a rhythm that is shaped more by responsibility than preference. It’s not where my heart naturally leans, but it is where I am, it’s my reality right now.

And I think this is something we don’t talk about enough.

The seasons where life requires us to prioritise stability over expansion. Where we make choices not from inspiration alone,
but from responsibility. From care. From commitment. From the bigger picture.

There was a time when I might have seen this as being ‘off track.’ As if I had somehow moved away from the life I was trying to build, but I don’t see it like that anymore because life isn’t linear, and purpose doesn’t disappear just because it isn’t centre stage.

I follow women whose work I admire deeply. Women who are building, creating, expanding in ways that resonate with me, and instead of it stirring comparison, it now feels more like a quiet reminder.

Of what I care about.
Of what still lives in me.
Of the direction I am moving towards, even if not at full pace right now.

There’s something grounding about recognising this. That you can be in one chapter and still be connected to another.

I haven’t stopped building my movement work, I’ve adjusted how I hold it.

More patiently.
More realistically.
With an understanding that not every season is designed for growth in the way we imagine it.

Some seasons are about laying foundations, about stabilising and about creating the conditions that will allow something more sustainable to emerge later.

And this is where I think many women quietly struggle.

We want to be fully expressed, fully aligned, fully immersed in the work that lights us up, but life is often asking us to balance that with what is necessary, and that can feel like a compromise, but perhaps it’s not a compromise, perhaps it’s a phase of integration. . .

Where we learn to hold both:

The vision. . . and the reality.

The desire. . . and the responsibility.

The future we’re moving towards. . . and the present we are living inside.

Because there is strength in not abandoning what matters to you, even when it can’t take up as much space as you would like. There is strength in continuing quietly and in keeping the connection alive. In tending to your work in the margins, rather than centre stage.

And perhaps this is the deeper work of midlife. Not just building something new, but learning how to stay connected to yourself
across different seasons, different demands, different realities.

This chapter may not look how I once imagined, but it is not wasted. It is supporting me in ways I can’t fully see yet, and the work I care about is still there.

Still evolving. Still waiting for the space that will come.

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As we ‘move inwards’ today here is a practice for holding both where you are and where you’re going. . .

Take a moment to pause.

Sit somewhere quietly.

Let your body settle, and ask yourself gently:

What is life asking of me right now?

Not what you wish it was asking, but what is actually true.

Then ask:

What still matters deeply to me, even if it’s not fully expressed right now?

Notice both answers.

Now, instead of trying to resolve the tension between them, see if you can hold them together.

Without urgency. Without judgement.

Place one hand on your body and take a slow deep breath, and remind yourself:

Both of these things can exist at the same time.

Then ask:

What is one small way I can stay connected to what matters to me, within the life I am living right now?

Something gentle.

Something realistic.

Something that doesn’t add pressure.

You don’t need to rush this chapter, you don’t need to force alignment, you are allowed to be here and still be on your way.

Wishing you a beautiful day my friend. . .

Remember the hardest part is continuing to show up for yourself with all the things you have to do and accomplish today.

Thank you for continuing to show up here. It’s an absolute pleasure to share this time with you.

❤️ Namaste Tracey Xx

Subscribe now

Please feel free to share You Are Not Alone with loved ones and friends. I trust whoever needs to read my musings will find them as a source of inspiration and hope. They are all written from my heart and offer the opportunity to dive deeper into truth, authenticity and trust.

Share

Moving Inward = Self-care exercises designed to devote time to turning your gaze inwards and spend some precious ‘me time’ as often as possible. This helps to cultivate a beautiful conscious conversation with your body, mind & emotions. Through this process we get to practise listening, to be who we are, and creatively explore who we want to be. I hope the audios that I create with each essay helps you with this ❤️ how we move matters - where attention goes energy flows.

There are certain things in life that no amount of reading, listening, or being told will ever quite land.

You can hear the advice.
You can understand it intellectually.
You can even agree with it, and still. . . you won’t live it. Not fully. Not until something in your own life asks you to.

We often believe we are learning all the time, but I’m not sure that’s entirely true, I think we are preparing to learn.

Perhaps circling ideas, collecting insight, nodding along to things that make sense. Until one day, life quietly (or sometimes abruptly) places you inside the very lesson you thought you already understood, and suddenly, it’s no longer theory, it’s lived.

I think about this often in relation to the body.

For years, I understood (on paper) the importance of rest, recovery, listening, adapting. I teach it, I’ve shared about it and I believed in it, but there is a difference between knowing something and being brought to a place where you have no choice but to live and feel it.

Such as a time in my life where my body simply would not meet me in the way it once had. My energy shifted, my recovery slowed down and my sleep became inconsistent. I tried lots of things, but the strategies that had always worked for me, stopped working in the same way, and in that space, something very honest emerged.

Not a lack of discipline, and not a lack of effort, but a mismatch. Between what I was asking of my body, and what my body actually needed.

No one could have explained that to me in a way that would have landed. Not really, because the lesson wasn’t in the explanation, it was in the experience of it.

Experiencing the frustration, the uncertainty, and in the quiet recalibration that followed. And this is where I think something else becomes visible. We are not just learning lessons, we are often being gently (or sometimes forcefully) moved out of patterns that no longer serve us, even when we don’t realise it.

There’s a phrase I’ve been reflecting on recently:

Everyone needs stress in their life. . . or they start creating it.

At first, it can sound counterintuitive.

Why would we need stress you may be thinking?

But when you look a little closer, it begins to make more sense. The human system is designed for challenge.

• For movement.

• For adaptation.

• For response.

Without some level of meaningful engagement, whether that is physical, emotional, mental, we don’t necessarily find peace. Instead we often find restlessness. Perhaps a subtle searching or a sense that something is missing, but here’s where it becomes important. . .

There is a difference between constructive stress and chronic overwhelm.

One expands you, whilst the other depletes you.

One builds resilience, whilst the other erodes it.

In my own life, I’ve seen both.

Periods where I pushed, achieved, held everything together, believing that more effort would create better outcomes.

And then other periods where I’ve stepped back, adjusted, and began to work with my body instead of against it.

What changed wasn’t my capacity, it was my relationship with stress.

Have you ever taken some time to consider your relationship with stress?

I stopped asking: How much can I handle?

And started asking: What is actually useful here?

As an example:

• What kind of challenge supports me?

• What kind of pressure drains me?

• What is my body responding well to, and what is it quietly resisting?

These are not questions you can answer once and be done with, instead they evolve just as you do.

Midlife, in many ways, is a return to this kind of awareness. Not because we suddenly become more fragile but because we become more precise. Less willing to tolerate what doesn’t fit, and more aware of what actually supports us.

And perhaps this is the beautiful lesson beneath the lesson, not everything can be taught in advance, some things have to be lived.

Felt.
Misjudged.
Adjusted. Again and again. . .

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This week as we ‘move inwards’ lets explore living the lessons, not just knowing them.

Find a quiet moment in your day. It doesn’t need to be perfect. Just a small pocket of time where you won’t be interrupted.

Sit comfortably and let your feet rest on the ground.
Allow your hands to settle somewhere on your body, or your thighs, your belly, or your chest.

Gently close your eyes, or soften your gaze, and take a deep slow breath in through your nose, and a longer, softer breath out through your mouth.

Again, let your exhale be unhurried.

Now, bring your attention inward.

Not to fix anything. Not to analyse. Just to notice.

Ask yourself quietly:

What is something I already know, but am not fully living?

Let the question land softly. Take some time here. There’s no need to search for an impressive answer.

It might be something very simple.

Rest more.
Say no sooner.
Slow down.
Ask for support.
Move differently.

Notice what arises. Not just the thought but the feeling that comes with it.

Now bring your awareness to your beautiful body.

Where do you feel this knowing?

Is there tightness? Resistance? Or a sense of heaviness or holding?

Or perhaps it’s something softer, like a quiet sense of truth, even if it feels uncomfortable. Place one hand gently on that area of you body (if it feels natural) and take a deep, slow breath into that space.

Not to change it.Just to acknowledge it. Now, gently explore:

What has been getting in the way of me living this?

No judgement. Just curiosity.

Is it habit? Fear? Timing? Or perhaps old patterns that once served you?

Let whatever comes. . . let it come, and then, make a subtle shift:

What would it look like to take one small step towards living this truth?

Not a big change. Not a full overhaul. Just one small, doable step.

Something that feels possible, something your body doesn’t resist. Let that small doable step form quietly in your mind.

And then ask: How would it feel in my body to begin living this?

Notice the response. Even the smallest sense of ease, space, or softening is enough.

Take one final slow breath in.

And a long breath out.

Let your body settle.

Remember you don’t need to have everything figured out, and you don’t need to rush the lesson.

Some things unfold slowly, through experience, through repetition, through gentle awareness.

When you’re ready, open your eyes and carry just one thing with you for the rest of the day:

Not the pressure to change everything, but the willingness to begin.

Remember the hardest part is continuing to show up for yourself with all the things you have to do and accomplish today.

Thank you for continuing to show up here. It’s an absolute pleasure to share this time with you.

❤️ Namaste Tracey Xx

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Please feel free to share You Are Not Alone with loved ones and friends. I trust whoever needs to read my musings will find them as a source of inspiration and hope. They are all written from my heart and offer the opportunity to dive deeper into truth, authenticity and trust.

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Moving Inward = Self-care exercises designed to devote time to turning your gaze inwards and spend some precious ‘me time’ as often as possible. This helps to cultivate a beautiful conscious conversation with your body, mind & emotions. Through this process we get to practise listening, to be who we are, and creatively explore who we want to be. I hope the audios that I create with each essay helps you with this ❤️ how we move matters - where attention goes energy flows.

There are days when I look back over my life and feel a deep sense of wonder.

The places I’ve been.
The people I’ve met.
The chapters I’ve lived through.

I sometimes catch myself thinking, how did all of that fit into one lifetime?

And then there are other days.

Quieter days.

Days where my thoughts drift in a different direction — towards the paths not taken, the decisions made quickly or slowly, the moments that quietly shaped everything that followed.

The sliding doors. The what ifs.

What if I had said yes instead of no?
What if I had stayed?
What if I had left sooner?

Where would my life be now?

Time becomes more interesting in midlife, not because we suddenly understand it, but because we feel it differently.

In earlier years, time stretches ahead like an open horizon. There’s a sense (often unspoken) that there is more of it. Enough to change direction, enough to start again, enough to figure things out, but somewhere in our 40s and 50s, something shifts.

Time begins to feel. . finite, not in a dramatic or frightening way, but in a quieter, more intimate one. I notice the years behind me as much as the years ahead, and with that awareness can come a subtle fear:

What if I run out of time?

I’ve definitely felt this more than once, that flicker of urgency. The thought that there are still things I want to do, create, experience, become, and alongside that, a question that can feel uncomfortable to sit with:

Is there enough time left?

It’s a tender place because it touches something very deep, not just the desire to achieve more, but the desire to have lived fully.

But here’s what I’ve been gently noticing.

The fear of running out of time doesn’t actually come from time itself, it comes from our relationship with it. From how often we leave things unsaid, or un-lived, or unfelt. From how often we delay what matters, believing there will always be a better moment later, and from how often we override the quiet pull towards something meaningful. . . because life feels busy, or complicated, or uncertain.

Midlife, in its own quiet way, brings us back to the present. Not as a concept but as a necessity, because when time begins to feel more precious, we start to see it more clearly.

• A cup of tea in the morning light.

• Perhaps a walk where you actually notice your surroundings.

• A conversation where you are fully there, not half elsewhere.

These moments don’t extend time, but they do deepen it. We cannot go back and relive the past as much as the mind sometimes wanders there, and we cannot fully control what lies ahead as much as we try to plan and shape it, but we do have this.

This moment.

This breath.

This small, often overlooked piece of time that is quietly available to us.

Perhaps the question isn’t:

Do I have enough time to do everything?

But rather:

Am I allowing myself to be fully inside the time I do have?

Because a life isn’t only measured in what we achieve. It’s also measured in how deeply we experience it. Those sliding door moments we think about - they didn’t just shape a different life we didn’t live, they actually shaped this one. The one you are in now.

With all its texture, its lessons, its unexpected turns, nothing has been wasted, even the choices that felt uncertain, or the paths that didn’t lead where you expected.They all contributed to who you are now, and perhaps this is where midlife offers something quietly profound.

Not a countdown, but a refinement.

A soft but steady invitation to become more intentional with your time.

• To notice where it goes.

• To notice what drains it.

• To notice what brings it alive.

And to choose (as often as you can) in alignment with that, and perhaps that’s the shift.

Not a life lived over again, but a life lived more fully from here.

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The video above was taken from my early morning walk this week with my gorgeous dog Alfie. I absolutely love seeing the sun rise in the morning, all is quiet and the fields around my home in Somerset are looking lush and green at the moment. So today, as we ‘move inwards’ here’s a gentle practice on time. . .

Take a moment sometime today to simply pause.

Not to plan.
Not to fix.
Just to notice.

Where is your time going right now?
And how does it feel in your body?

Then ask yourself, softly:

What would it feel like to experience this moment more fully?

Take one deep full breath, feel your feet on the ground, the air on your skin and the quiet rhythm of your body.

You don’t need more time.

You just need to be here for the time you have, and enjoy your journey around the sun each year.

Sweet blessings for the week ahead, take some precious ‘me time’ my dear friend. . .

Remember the hardest part is continuing to show up for yourself with all the things you have to do and accomplish today.

Thank you for continuing to show up here. It’s an absolute pleasure to share this time with you.

❤️ Namaste Tracey Xx

Subscribe now

Please feel free to share You Are Not Alone with loved ones and friends. I trust whoever needs to read my musings will find them as a source of inspiration and hope. They are all written from my heart and offer the opportunity to dive deeper into truth, authenticity and trust.

Share

Moving Inward = Self-care exercises designed to devote time to turning your gaze inwards and spend some precious ‘me time’ as often as possible. This helps to cultivate a beautiful conscious conversation with your body, mind & emotions. Through this process we get to practise listening, to be who we are, and creatively explore who we want to be. I hope the audios that I create with each essay helps you with this ❤️ how we move matters - where attention goes energy flows.

There comes a point in midlife where you start to notice a subtle tension.

A gap between the life you say you want - and the way you are actually living. You’re doing all the ‘right’ things - showing up, holding it together, keeping everything moving and yet, something feels slightly off.

Not dramatically wrong, just. . . misaligned.

A quiet sense that you are living around yourself, rather than from within yourself.

We often think this is a motivation problem, or a discipline problem, or even something that can be solved with a better plan. But more often than not, it’s something much deeper. It’s a values problem.

Whether you realise it or not, your values are shaping everything and always running the show.

• The way you make decisions.

• The way you spend your time.

• The way your body responds to your life.

Because your nervous system is always listening for one thing:

Is this safe?
Is this right for me?

And ‘right’ doesn’t come from what you say you want, it comes from what you actually value.

• If you value rest, but constantly override it — your system feels it.

• If you value honesty, but keep smoothing things over — your body tightens.

• If you value connection, but keep pushing it to the bottom of the list — something in you starts to feel quietly undernourished.

This is where tension builds, not because you’re doing too little but because you’re doing a lot that doesn’t fully match who you are.

In our earlier years, we can override this misalignment more easily. We’re rewarded for pushing through, for adapting and for stretching ourselves to meet expectations, but midlife has a way of removing that buffer!

Your nervous system becomes less tolerant of compromise, and your body speaks sooner, and way more louder. Fatigue lingers and irritation surfaces more quickly. That sense of ‘this isn’t quite it’ becomes harder to ignore, this isn’t dysfunction, instead I believe it’s refinement. Your system is asking for a closer match between your inner world and your outer life.

This then gets me thinking about where manifestation gets misunderstood. . . we’re often told that creating the life we want is about mindset. If we think positively, visualise, set intentions and yes of course our thoughts matter, but thoughts alone are not what shape your life. Your values do.

Because your values shape your behaviour, and your behaviour shapes your nervous system, and your nervous system shapes what you’re able to hold, receive, and sustain.

You can say you want a calmer life. . . but if you value productivity above all else, you will keep choosing speed.

You can say you want more ease. . . but if you value proving yourself, you will keep overextending.

You can say you want to feel strong and supported in your body. . . but if you value pushing through, you will override the very signals designed to guide you.

By the way, this is not failure, it’s simply misalignment.

You don’t need to become someone else - this is where I see so many women quietly shrink as they try to mould themselves into a version of life that looks right on paper. They follow advice that doesn’t quite fit, they push through signals that don’t feel good and they prioritise what they should value over what they actually do, and over time, something essential gets diluted.

But the work isn’t to become someone new, instead it’s to return.

To ask:

What actually matters to me now?
What feels true in this season of my life?

Because values are not fixed, they evolve and midlife often brings a recalibration:

• From proving → to preserving energy

• From achieving → to experiencing

• From pushing → to sustaining

Not less ambition, just a different relationship with it.

When your life begins to align with your values, something shifts.

Not overnight, not dramatically, but steadily. Your nervous system softens, your energy becomes more consistent, your decisions feel clearer, less conflicted, and you stop second-guessing yourself quite so much, because you’re no longer trying to live someone else’s version of what matters. You’re building from within and this is how you expand, not shrink.

There’s a quiet power in this, because when your values lead, you stop contorting yourself to fit, you stop over-explaining, over-performing, over-extending and you become more precise, more grounded and ultimately more yourself. From that place, life doesn’t feel like something you have to chase. It becomes something you are steadily, intelligently shaping.

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Today, as we ‘move inwards’ lets explore a simple practice. Simply take a moment today and ask yourself:

What do I say I value?
And then, gently:
What do my days actually reflect?

Notice where they align, and then notice where they don’t. Perhaps take a moment to write them down in your journal. Remember there is no judgement here, just awareness.

Then choose one small shift.

One decision. One boundary. One moment of pause.

Something that brings your life just slightly closer to what truly matters to you, because the life you want isn’t built in big declarations. It’s built in quiet alignment, one choice at a time.

Wishing you a beautiful day my friend. . .

Remember the hardest part is continuing to show up for yourself with all the things you have to do and accomplish today.

Thank you for continuing to show up here. It’s an absolute pleasure to share this time with you.

❤️ Namaste Tracey Xx

Subscribe now

Please feel free to share You Are Not Alone with loved ones and friends. I trust whoever needs to read my musings will find them as a source of inspiration and hope. They are all written from my heart and offer the opportunity to dive deeper into truth, authenticity and trust.

Share

Moving Inward = Self-care exercises designed to devote time to turning your gaze inwards and spend some precious ‘me time’ as often as possible. This helps to cultivate a beautiful conscious conversation with your body, mind & emotions. Through this process we get to practise listening, to be who we are, and creatively explore who we want to be. I hope the audios that I create with each essay helps you with this ❤️ how we move matters - where attention goes energy flows.

We live in a culture that prizes motion. Our days are packed, our calendars overflowing, our attention split in a hundred directions. Emails ping, notifications buzz, and somewhere between meetings, errands, and commitments, we convince ourselves that we’re moving forward. But how often do we actually pause long enough to ask: Is this moving me forward, or just keeping me moving?

In midlife, the question starts to demand an answer. The body whispers, sometimes in stiffness, fatigue, or tension and suddenly the signals we used to ignore become impossible to tune out. I remember standing at my kitchen counter, hands wrapped around a mug of tea, my shoulders stiff from a long day at work. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other and suddenly realized I hadn’t felt my feet properly in hours. That small hinge of awareness, that tiny moment was progress. Not motion, but noticing.

We’ve spent decades rewarding ourselves for endurance. Push harder, stay later, do more. But progress, the kind that matters, is quieter. It lives in the intention behind the movement: the way you reach for a book on the top shelf with care, the way you step down stairs fully aware of each footfall, the way you lift and lower your body in a strength session with focus, not just speed.

Midlife has a way of stripping away the illusions that motion equals achievement. The same applies to work, relationships, even self-care routines. We keep doing, keep moving, believing that busyness itself is evidence of value. But real forward movement asks a different kind of attention: it asks us to listen, to discern, to choose.

It asks us to pause before we act and ask: Does this actually take me somewhere that matters?

So with this in mind I decided to make my early mornings a quiet experiment in noticing. For weeks, I had been racing from one meeting to the next, a cuppa in hand, phone buzzing, my body barely awake.

Then one day, I decided to slow down deliberately:

• I let myself linger in bed a few extra minutes, noticing the stretch of my spine, the rise and fall of my breath.

• I walked to the kitchen slowly, pausing to feel the floor under my feet, the weight of the mug in my hands, the warmth of the sun on my skin through the window.

It was almost imperceptible, no one else would notice, and nothing got ‘done’ differently that morning. But over time, those small, intentional pauses changed everything. My lower back pain eased, my shoulders softened, my mind became calmer, and even my energy throughout the day shifted. That wasn’t motion. It was progress. Each mindful breath, each deliberate step, each moment of attention rebuilt resilience, ease, and trust in myself.

The same principle applies to life beyond the body. You don’t need to do more. You need to move with intention. A slow walk in the rain, noticing how the cold touches your skin. A quiet morning spent sipping tea without checking your phone. A single pause before responding to a difficult email. These are not wasted moments, they are the spaces where progress lives.

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Here’s a simple ‘moving inward’ practice to explore motion versus progress. Take a moment today. Sit somewhere quiet, close your eyes, and notice your body.

1. Take three slow breaths and notice how your body feels in this moment.

2. Choose one activity you do daily — it could be working, walking, exercise, even scrolling your phone, or a personal routine.

3. Ask yourself: Is this moving me forward, or just keeping me moving?

4. Pause and adjust — even slightly. It could be slowing your pace, focusing on form, or letting go of something unnecessary. Notice how it feels. That awareness alone is progress.

5. End with a deep exhale, acknowledging the difference you’ve created by noticing.

Even a small pause can reveal layers of clarity. Progress doesn’t always shout — often it whispers.

Midlife isn’t a time to keep pushing harder. It’s a time to slow down enough to see where motion ends and progress begins. To listen, to notice, to recalibrate. Because the quiet, deliberate steps — not the endless busyness — are what truly move us forward.

Remember the hardest part is continuing to show up for yourself with all the things you have to do and accomplish today.

Thank you for continuing to show up here. It’s an absolute pleasure to share this time with you.

❤️ Namaste Tracey Xx

Subscribe now

Please feel free to share You Are Not Alone with loved ones and friends. I trust whoever needs to read my musings will find them as a source of inspiration and hope. They are all written from my heart and offer the opportunity to dive deeper into truth, authenticity and trust.

Share

Moving Inward = Self-care exercises designed to devote time to turning your gaze inwards and spend some precious ‘me time’ as often as possible. This helps to cultivate a beautiful conscious conversation with your body, mind & emotions. Through this process we get to practise listening, to be who we are, and creatively explore who we want to be. I hope the audios that I create with each essay helps you with this ❤️ how we move matters - where attention goes energy flows.