This week has been more chaotic and stressful than anticipated. One could say that about the last two years too.

It’s highly uncomfortable.

But I have noticed something different this week as I navigate the latest challenges life has put in my path.

I don’t feel tight, constricted, hunkered down.

I don’t feel reactive.

I am not responding to the stress by forcing or pushing or doing more.

I feel quiet and expansive on the inside.

Confident in my ability to weather the storm.

With a slight tinge of excitement that the external stimulus–that is a very real threat to my sense of security–could also propel me forward to a new level of clarity in my business and more aligned outcomes for my life.

My self-care strategies haven’t been disrupted. I am still working out, drinking water, fueling my body, walking the dog with my middlest, going to bed on time.

I noticed. Because it hasn’t always been this way.

And for the first time in my awareness, it happened without me applying much effort.

I have Grade A survival capacity, but deploying my survival strategies has historically felt a lot more like preparing for battle.

Putting on the armor. And the blinders. Head down. Left foot. Right foot. Breathe. Repeat.

Surviving but not living. And often coming home from the battle beaten and broken.

Is this what nervous system healing feels like???

Being able to stay regulated, open, and present even though a trigger storm is waiting outside?

Flexible, adaptable, and able to move between effort and stillness, tension and release.

I think so.

I had a brief conversation with someone today about the fact that growth and discomfort often come hand in hand. And he was saying that he couldn’t decide whether to move toward or away from the discomfort.

And it got me thinking.

Because sometimes discomfort means that we are on the verge of injury or harm. And that we should stop. I ignored (and pushed through) this kind of discomfort to my detriment for a very long time.

And sometimes discomfort means we are on a growth edge or in a season of transformation and that we will come out the other side stronger than before.

But what determines whether that discomfort leads to harm or to a positive breakthrough?

The answer to this question is likely complex and more than I even fully understand. But here is the piece I have today.

It matters how we respond to the discomfort.

If we go in to a fight response . . . if we become tense, anxious, obsessed with control, resistant, brittle, if we force when we should release . . . we are more likely to be splintered by the discomfort.

If we go into flight, we might disappear from our lives; consumed with addictions or numbed by coping strategies. And the very thing we are running from is always right behind us, sometimes becoming louder, more urgent and more dangerous.

If we freeze or fawn, we might become paralyzed, stuck in a situation we should leave, or stick our head in the sand while things devolve around us.

But if we are able to stay in our window of tolerance . . . present, relaxed, expansive, still, receptive, flexible, adaptive and creative . . . we are more likely to move through the growth edge and find ourselves a step closer to a fuller version of ourselves.

This is one of the many reasons why learning to regulate our nervous systems (with support as needed) is so very important.

Life is full of uncertainty. Perhaps more than any of us remember in our lifetimes.

How we respond to uncertainty matters. How we respond to discomfort can change the outcome.

Re-wiring the nervous system is ultimately the result of small choices made over time. @newhappyco posted an image on Instagram this week that captures this idea visually. I have shared it below.

What is one thing you can do today to tend to your nervous system?

Love,

Booth

p.s. Speaking of Instagram, I posted a important message about suicide on my own feed this week. If you missed it, you can check it out @theboothandrews.