When your body says no to something you love
A chapter in our life can be both deeply meaningful and profoundly unsustainable. As I untangle years of masking and survival from the relationships and love that made pastoral ministry so beautiful, my body is slowly learning that I don’t have to choose one version of the story.
I’m easing my way out of a job that had a very specific identity. Everyone had their own interpretation of what a pastor might offer them. I had my own inner experience of that role too. Which got quite complicated as a late-diagnosed autistic and ADHD human at times.
One of the dynamics I’m slowly untangling is how my survival system wired two distinct experiences together.
Masking was required in this role. It was a role built around neurotypical expectations for communication, responsibilities, consistency, energetic output, and empathic presence. I did my absolute best to keep up with the rule book that I picked up from others for a couple decades.
The other reality?
I got to love and be loved by so many great humans! I served churches in Florida, Ohio, Alaska, Washington, and Oregon. I got to be a part of profound conversations about justice, love, compassion, friendship, and humor. They made my life rich and meaningful.
Problem is – my nervous system was quite often in survival mode. Which has a way of offloading my actual embodied experience of all that love.
Part of my grief work in this season is grieving the beautiful parts of relationships that I had to step away from because my mask was so unsustainable.
I’ve noticed my system has a tendency of labeling the entire vocational experience as “painful and overwheming.” But, in reality, I benefitted deeply from those relationships, even thought I could not stay in that container and take care of myself.
It’s an odd truth to name in my story. The thing my body registered as impossible was also adding meaning to my life.
In this next season, I’m being invited to gently untangle those experiences. It all gets to be here. What my body used to register as painful is loosening a bit. There's glimpses of big gratitude for all the relationships that I genuinely enjoyed.
I’m grateful for how somatic work supports my nervous system as it separates out these two distinct experiences.
What about your story?
Are there parts of your story where these two realities have gotten fused together? I wonder how you’ve labeled parts of your story as someone who works hard to keep up with expectations.
Do you notice any grief hanging out in your body when this comes to mind?
If so, consider this short moment of love for your body:
- Look gently around the space you’re in. Notice color, temperature, texture, objects. You’re letting your nervous system fully register the moment and space you’re in.
- If it feels good, place your hand on a part of your body that’s feeling tight or heavy today. Maybe it’s your throat, jaw, leg, arm, stomach, chest.
- Offer it come care and love. A gentle breath or two.
- Consider asking that part of you, “Is there anything you want me to know today?” You may sense an emotion, a sensation, or nothing. All of it’s welcome.
- Respond with validation and care. Your body holds stories your mind can’t quite reach. We can practice listening together.
- End by looking around the room again. If you have the patience today, move your eyes slowly. It communicates to your system a sense of safety in your space.
A deep bow to you, my friend. I’m so grateful to share this space with you. Let’s keep practicing this beautiful life together.
With big care,
Jenny
This week
If the timing feels right
If something in this space is stirring a sense that you’re ready to know and trust yourself a little more deeply, I have spaces available for 1:1 work this month. The Gentle Way offers a place to slow down, listen inward, and build the kind of supportive container where you can become more fully yourself—not by fixing what’s “wrong,” but by learning to trust what’s already there.
