As I write this, I’m not sure that “settled” is quite the right word for what I did in Massachusetts. Nor for anything I did in my twenties, a pretty tumultuous and nothing-but-steady time for me. But at twenty years young, I drove myself to New England to transfer, sight-unseen and as a junior, to college. And then I stayed. (Thirty some years in the metro-area of one and the same state is a pretty long time for this creature who still, at fifty four years of age, can feel stumped by the question “Where are you from?”)

But I am moving, along with my husband and pup. We are moving out of state. To upstate New York, to be specific. A small town named Geneva, which on a map can be found right at the top of the middle finger lake. (Ha!) It’s a beautiful area even though a barkeep there told me their winters can be four to six weeks longer than Boston’s. (Yikes!)

It’s been quite a time, these last months. We are moving because my husband found himself a new and fantastic job, which we are both supremely happy about. Even though we are moving for his work, I too feel right about it, and that feeling of rightness relieves a huge amount of what could otherwise be anxiety when it comes to doing something as big as picking up and moving your life and your work after thirty some years in one and the same area.

That’s not to say, though, that every so often I am not hit with “oh-my-god-what-are-we-doing?!” kinds of thoughts… Case in point: yesterday morning when the weight of all factors that led up to the decision to move, plus all the heavy-lifting involved in making a move happen, not to mention the closing of a beloved massage therapy practice and the saying of goodbye to people who’ve been coming to lie down on my table for massage and body work for, some of them, going on near two decades… Well, yesterday morning, after my final visit with my dentist (of all people!), the tears came. Loud and terribly unsexy, scare-your-poor-dog kind of tears…

It was bound to happen, right? That’s what I’d think if I were my own nervous system coaching client. If I were my own dear client, I’d not freak out on account of tears. At all. Because tears pretty much always clear the way for something. Good honest tears can be incredibly helpful.

They were. When I realized how utterly exhausted I was… When I sensed how more than anything I wanted to FEEL taken care of so that I wouldn’t have to worry about anything… When I saw how important soothing and comfort, not the kind I try to get from sources that don’t deeply and straight-up replenish me (I’m talking to you, popcorn and ice cream and episode after episode of Top Chef!), I went outside to my little urban garden, the patch of dirt I have been nurturing and cultivating in our back yard for three years. And there I dug in a bag of soil to harvest a pile of sunchokes!

And there, hands in dirt, I found comfort. And was surprised by delight. Turns out comfort and delight and a sunchoke harvest were exactly what I needed: they made everything feel, somehow, all better.

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Massage clients: To schedule a massage session before I move, please contact me for a link to my private massage booking page. I have a few openings left through the end of November, and I am limiting all remaining massage appointments to already-clients.

Want to know how nervous system coaching could help you? Please put yourself in my calendar for a free nervous system breakthrough session! (My coaching practice–mostly remote, via Zoom–is very much moving with me!)

The post Heidi’s moving! (And getting personal about stress, tears, and finding comfort.) appeared first on Heidi's Table.