You can't rush your healing

The potential in staying

Silverlake, Los Angeles x Lani Trock

Ever since I can remember I have wanted to be someplace else. Someone else. Being here, being in my body is not something that comes naturally to me. I run. I daydream. I want out. I rush.

I remember sitting in a therapy session years ago having just completed a trauma response cycle in my nervous system. As my exhales organically slowed down and my body fully landed on the couch, I looked at my therapist and, in all seriousness, asked, okay what’s next?

I was ready for the next cycle of healing, the next big piece of work to tackle so that I could at long last feel complete. Feel like I had arrived. Like I was there. You know, the place I am always trying to get to. Push to. Run to.

I’ll never forget her attuned and kind offerings, what if we just sit here a little longer together, in this settling? In this moment? What if we stretch out this feeling of ease you are experiencing right now?

But I have so far to go. I have so much more to work on. To fix. To heal. To get better already. I don’t want to just sit here. Sitting here feels like I am not doing anything. It’s not enough. I need to work harder. Heal faster. I need to get my money’s worth. I need to keep going. I am running out of time. I am already older than I want to be. I am already so unhealed.

My therapist looked at me. She had this incredible way of silently offering compassion to all of my parts that needed to get there already. I could feel her care, her knowing, and her trust in what she was offering. She circled back, is there any part of you that might be willing to sit together in this moment? In the honoring of the big piece of work you have already done without rushing to the next layer?

Her questions reminded me of my first sponsor in the rooms of A.A. My sponsor’s questions often started with, are you willing….? Are you willing to stop drinking for the next 24 hours? Are you willing to not call back your ex? Are you willing to reach out for help before you pick up the drink? Are you willing to practice meditation for five minutes each day? And my all-time favorite, are you willing to be willing?

Willingness is a gentle and approachable inquiry. I have practiced willingness in my own life for decades and utilized it heavily in my past client practice. Willingness is an inquiry I consider often in this season of life, especially in moments when I am feeling particularly constricted, avoidant, or numb. In the moments after my therapist offered her second invitation, is there any part of you that might be willing to sit together in this moment? I was able to receive it.

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We sat together for what felt like ten minutes, but it was probably two or three. Somatic integration happens on its own timeline. I struggle to know how short or long something takes to metabolize in my body. This was a brand-new experience for me. In my past therapeutic relationships, each time I felt that I was finished with a piece of work I was very quick to move on to the next, never taking any care or time to integrate in the session. I reached out for the next piece of work, rather than allow it to emerge from my system. One of the greatest teachings of somatics has been this: I can trust the next layer will reveal itself without me having to reach out for it.  

In that session with my therapist the next layer surfaced after my willingness to sit with her and stretch out the ease that I felt in my body. Interestingly, it wasn’t the layer that I was initially rushing toward. It was something deeper, something quieter, something more resonant.

I will forever be enamored with how one impeccably timed invitation can change the course of my life. I don’t mean that in a definitive way as if to suggest from that session on I ceased to stop wanting to rush my healing. What I mean is that my therapist’s second invitation that included willingness, gave me enough space to explore the potential in staying settled long enough to see what might come next. This has become a practice that I find myself returning to, over and over again.

I imagine that I will always have parts that want to rush. That are ready to get there already. Be over there. Ahead. Not here. There. Better. More evolved. You know, up ahead.

Since that therapy session, I now have access to something that is much more interesting to me. Something new. Something unknown. Something alive. Something real. Something right now.

Space.

When I am willing to take the time to integrate a lesson, absorb a teaching, or metabolize a layer of healing, there is space for me to feel more of myself. Space for me to touch into my aliveness. Space for me to deepen my self-trust. Space for me to know myself. Space for me to remember my capacity. Space for me to be.

For years I tried every which way to rush my healing. To heal as fast as possible. To catch up. To get there. To be somewhere else. To be someone else. To get out of the pain, the confusion, the numbness, the fear, the wanting, the being nice, the disconnection.

Sometimes I continue to rush.

And sometimes I am willing to slow down.

Sometimes I am willing to pause. To breathe. To remember how far I have come. How hard I have already worked. How deeply I long to embody myself. And how much I have learned to trust myself in the process.

With care,
Ashley

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