The Gift in Discomfort
Photo by Courtney Lindberg Photography
Last weekend, I attended a personal growth event and allowed myself to be raw and vulnerable in ways I hadn't been in years. In the moment, it felt healing and enriching. But the next day, I woke up in a panic—a vulnerability hangover in full force.
My heart raced, and my mind spiraled: Why didn't I just keep my mouth shut? Why did I let myself be seen like that? Embarrassment and shame swirled as I judged myself harshly: weak, soft, needy. Thoughts of failing, losing friendships, and even my business flooded my mind. A part of me was convinced I would never recover.
In the past, I would've done anything to escape this discomfort—food, wine, running, dancing—anything to distract myself and feel better fast. But this time, I chose differently.
I stayed.
With my newfound understanding of how the mind works, I didn't fight the discomfort or try to make it go away. I watched my thoughts spin, offering up new tactics to convince me to act. But I knew better than to trust those ideas. The feelings beneath them told me they weren't coming from wisdom; they were rooted in fear—the fear that vulnerability is dangerous and that I need to guard up and protect myself at all costs.
What shocked me most was witnessing my own cruelty. Because I didn't collapse into the pattern, I experienced the impact of it. I couldn't believe how harshly I treated myself—and had for years. Here, sadness cracked me open, and my tears flowed.
I saw the innocence behind this program—its desire to protect me and ensure I felt safe, loved, and accepted.
I imagined a sheepdog herding children. It doesn't know kids aren't sheep; it's just doing its job. Similarly, this old part of me didn't realize I didn't need protection anymore. Vulnerability wasn't a threat—it was a bridge to deeper connection.
And then, something shifted. Compassion flowed in.
Instead of punishing myself, I held this part of me with love. The harshness softened, and my system settled. I saw clearly that the pain I was feeling wasn't something to escape—it was something to learn from.
Because of this experience, I now have a deeper understanding of this protective patterning. This awareness will support me in responding to it with greater compassion in the future. I can relate to it as the sheepdog, innocently trying to do its job.
Our conditioning isn’t bad; we don’t have to eradicate it. Trying to do so would be exhausting. Instead, we can accept that our minds create involuntarily, much like how the body breathes. By embracing this, we relax and trust the deeper intelligence within. Rather than forcing the conditioning into submission or trying to control it, we can let it move through us. If it’s ready to dissolve completely, it will do so naturally, without effort on our part.
Insights come when life feels good, but the insights born of adversity are often life-changing. We grow through obstacles. Finding the light by going through the dark offers the deepest healing available. Building the capacity to wade through the waters of our shadows not only serves us individually but strengthens us as a collective.
Presence, willingness, and space are all that's required.
The goal isn't to feel good all the time. The goal is to have the full human experience.
If you find yourself in discomfort, know that you don't have to fight or flee it. Let it take up room. Witness it. Beneath the pain is innocence, and when met with compassion, it transforms.
This is where the deepest healing happens.
With loving,
Amber
ps: Here's a little song to inspire you to grow.
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