I thought I was past this…

It’s a funny thing, living in a world that promises us perfection—if only we do X.​
And then spending my entire adulthood trying to undo that messaging, learning instead to trust the process.
Only to be launched right back into that belief system, over and over and over again…

Let’s take a step back.

I’ve been teaching about boundaries these past few weeks—inside The Circle, in the Embodied Woman in Practice classes, and during last week’s Purim webinar.

It’s a hot topic these days.
​“Set boundaries, and your life will be better.”

And it’s true—on many levels.
Life is so much better with boundaries.
But certainly not perfect.

So there I was, thinking, breathing, and embodying boundaries everywhere.
Certain I had this down pat.
Certain Purim would be a breeze.

Shopping? Check.
Plans? Check.
Check, check, check, check, check.

And then—life happened.

Not one, but two traffic accidents on the highway doubled my drive time from under two hours to four.
Leaving me tense, exhausted, and cramped.

A heat wave brought summer temperatures,
Making my usual regulating tool—taking a walk—unbearable.
Dehydrating me.
Adding to the exhaustion I was already feeling.

Etc. Etc. Etc.

And then, the old patterns crept in.

The familiar mind-body pains.
The symptoms.
The ways my body screamed, “NO! STOP!”

Not because I wasn’t listening.
Not because I was pushing too hard.

But because the body doesn’t distinguish between neglect due to carelessness and overwhelm from circumstances beyond our control.​
(Or, if we let go of black-and-white thinking, the very likely combination of both.)

And in those moments, the thoughts come rushing in:

“Oh no, I thought I was past this.”​
​“What? Here—still?? I’ll never heal.”​
​“Quick—find a new solution! The old way clearly didn’t work because I’m still broken, so we need something drastic, immediate… this has to change NOW!”

Ohh…

The old pattern.
The facade of perfection creeping in.
And I see it happening—again.

So I turn inward and acknowledge:

“Oh, sweetie, you’re feeling desperate.​
​You long for progress, for change.​
​It’s hard to wait.​
​No wonder your mind is scrambling for quick solutions—you’re panicked, frightened, caught in an emotional flashback.​
​And I can’t promise that it will be perfect tomorrow or ever… but I will always be here to hold you.”

And something inside settles.

No, the pain—physical or emotional—doesn’t vanish in an instant.
But suddenly, there’s a quiet sense of:

Patience
Hope
Optimism
Trust in the process

That wasn’t accessible before.

Where I can walk through this world holding both:

The pain and the ease.
The stagnation and the progress.
The black-and-white and the rainbow.

Because that, my friend, is the healing.

Do you have a sister or friend who you think might appreciate this? If so, please forward her this email. Thanks!

Warmly,
Rena