06/10/2026
This morning, as I began my day in prayer with Jesus at the centre, He sparked my sense of wonder once again. I found myself asking:
I wonder what hardness feels like in my body.
As I trusted Him with all my heart, I found the courage to take a step towards this hardness. Courage to meet it fully.
Meeting this hardness allowed my mind to help my body take a breath, a breath I hadn't realised I had been holding in the background for so much of my life. A breath that had once felt hard to take. I felt instant relief.
It felt as though this breath had never wanted to give up, even when the hard feelings did. It had quietly kept holding on for me.
Holding this breath for most of my life has been exhausting possibly contributing to the chronic fatigue I experience every day.
As I stayed present, memories began to surface. I remembered being a child, feeling so overwhelmed when life felt hard. That overwhelm became too much for my little body to hold. It settled into my chest, my throat and my glands, almost as though it hardened into armour to protect me.
Perhaps that armour was needed for a time.
But over the years, it became exhausted from holding on. It grew heavy. The trapped charge within my body longed to move but couldn't. I believe that holding became exhausting, not only emotionally but physically too.
Eventually, my body began to express what it had been carrying. Physical movement became difficult. Exercise often left me feeling as though I would pass out. Walking up even the slightest incline made it feel as though I couldn't breathe. My body would go into panic, doing everything it could to protect me by shutting down.
Over the years I have been gently meeting this part of myself, moving through the layers with compassion rather than force.
Yet something still felt missing.
Something was still protecting me from fully meeting this part.
I don't yet know what that protective part is. Perhaps I don't need to know today.
What I do know is that I am grateful to be sitting with it now.
Not fixing it.
Not pushing it away.
Not trying to understand it before it is ready.
Simply noticing it and letting it know:
I am here.
Love Chantelle