As the years pass, I notice the shifts that come with what it takes for me to feel comfortably in community with those around me. We’re all constantly changing. And while my love and desire to be in spaces with the folks I call family or have opened my heart to seldom shifts… my body sometimes communicates something different.
Being aware of my body isn’t something I learned growing up. If anything, being a child in my generation often came with (explicit or implied) instructions to ignore what I was feeling in the name of doing what I was told. Read: respecting elders was a non-negotiable, even if their definition of respect was questionable.
These days, the elder that I’m most often tasked with abiding by is me. And I wouldn’t dare tell myself to “sit down and be quiet.” So, I listen. I recognize when hanging with a certain friend group makes me feel particularly anxious. I recognize when too much time with a loved one leaves me feeling on edge or dysregulated. I listen to what my body is trying to tell me, and I respond accordingly.
This seldom means communicating my body’s messages to the people around me. Because it’s not their responsibility to bring me back to center. My discomfort isn’t their call to action, but it most certainly is mine. Sometimes the action item is to simply get curious about what’s making me uncomfortable. Sometimes the action item is to create a boundary or physical space.
So, when I say, “It’s not you. It’s my nervous system.” What I mean is, “I love you, and something about our interactions doesn’t sit well with me. I need to examine that instead of prolonging our time together and neglecting myself. I TRULY hope you understand, but I’ll understand if you don’t.”
Can you recall a time your body was communicating something to you about the company you were keeping? If so, I’d love to hear about it in the comments.