Welcome,
I'm Teresa and I'm so glad you're here.
Let your body settle in whatever way feels natural today Feel the weight of yourself against the surface beneath you.
Maybe you can allow it to take a little more of you,
Even 5% You don't have to sit perfectly upright.
You don't have to breathe deeply.
You don't have to become calm before we begin.
Just notice that you're here.
And for a moment,
Just listening.
Not for my voice.
Listen underneath it.
The sounds in the room.
Your own breathing the quiet movement of your body.
There is so much information coming towards us all the time.
And for some of us,
We've become very skilled at listening outward.
We listen for tone.
Expectation.
For what someone needs.
For clues about what happens next.
Sometimes we become so fluent in the world around us that our own voice begins to sound very far away.
And I wonder,
What if you haven't lost yourself?
What if you've simply become very practiced at listening for everyone else?
Peel your body again.
Notice where it comes into contact with the surface below you.
There is something about the ground that doesn't need an answer from you.
It simply receives your weight.
And maybe you can let yourself be received for a moment.
No decisions to make.
No preference to identify.
Just here in this moment with me.
Because even sometimes the question,
What do I want?
Can feel enormous.
Maybe when you hear that,
Your mind goes blank.
Maybe you immediately start looking for the sensible answer.
The kind answer.
The answer least likely to inconvenience anyone.
And if that happens,
You don't need to correct it.
You've learned how to survive uncertainty by finding the answers somewhere outside yourself.
Perhaps today we can practice something smaller.
Not what do I want for my life.
Just what feels a little better right now.
Notice your body.
Maybe the position you're in is fine.
Maybe there's a tiny adjustment that would feel better.
Shoulders that want to drop.
A hand that wants to move.
Your head wanting more support.
You don't have to search for an answer.
Let your body answer in its own time.
And if you notice something.
Perhaps respond.
Not because this tiny choice matters very much.
But because you asked yourself a question.
And you stayed long enough to hear the answer.
There is something deeply tender about that.
Maybe self-trust doesn't begin with trusting yourself to make every right decision.
Maybe it begins with becoming someone who listens.
The world may have taught you to second-guess your own responses.
To wonder whether you're overreacting.
Whether you need too much.
Whether the thing you love is strange.
Whether the thing you dislike should really bother you.
And when that happens often enough,
Your own knowing can become very quiet.
Not gone.
Just quiet.
Like a song playing somewhere in another room.
You can hear something,
But not quite the words.
So maybe we don't need to turn the volume up all at once.
Maybe we simply get closer.
Feel your breath moving through you.
Notice what happens on the exhale.
Maybe your body drops a fraction of an inch toward the support underneath you.
Let it out.
And imagine for a moment that you have nowhere to be.
No one is waiting for response.
There is no right use of the next hour.
Nothing to optimize.
Nothing to prove.
What happens inside you when there is no correct answer?
You don't need to decide what you would do.
Just notice whether something in you leans.
Toward quiet.
Toward movement.
Toward rest.
Towards something that feels like yours.
And if nothing leans,
That is information too.
Maybe you've spent so long living by obligation that desire needs time to remember it is allowed to speak.
We can give it time.
You do not need to force yourself to want.
You do not need to turn preference into another assignment.
Just listen.
Maybe there are small places in your life where your voice is already easy to hear.
A song you return to without asking whether it's good.
A place your body relaxes.
Something you do simply because you love doing it.
There is something beautiful about the things we don't need to justify.
They remind us that not every choice has to survive an argument.
Sometimes,
I like this.
Is enough.
Feel what happens in your body as you hear that.
I like this.
Maybe there is ease in those words.
Maybe discomfort.
Maybe they feel almost rebellious.
And then,
I don't like this.
Notice that one too.
You don't have to act on every preference.
You will still compromise.
You will still choose things that are difficult because they matter.
You will still care about other people.
Listening to yourself does not mean the rest of the world disappears.
It simply means you get a seat at the table too.
Stay with that.
You get a seat at the table.
Mop the only seat.
Not the loudest voice.
But you are there.
Your body is there.
Your capacity is there.
Your wanting is there.
Your uncertainty is allowed to be there too.
Maybe you don't need to stop asking,
What does everyone else need?
Maybe you simply add,
And what about me?
What do I need?
What do I know?
What feels true today.
Let yourself breathe.
You do not need to answer now.
Perhaps learning to hear yourself again isn't about becoming certain.
Maybe it is about making room for your uncertainty without immediately handing your decision away.
I don't know yet,
Can still be your voice.
It can be a very wise voice.
A voice asking for time.
Bring a hand somewhere on your body if that feels okay for you.
Maybe over your chest.
Your belly.
Your arm.
And feel the warmth of yourself beneath your own touch.
You have been here the whole time.
Through every version.
Every adjustment.
Every time you understood yourself completely.
And every season when you felt like a stranger to your own life.
You did not disappear.
Maybe you simply learn to listen outward before listening inward.
And now,
Perhaps you can do both.
Notice the world and notice yourself.
Love other people.
And remain in relationship with yourself.
Consider what is needed.
And include what you need.
There is room for both.
Take a few quiet breaths here.
And before we finish,
Perhaps ask yourself one very small question.
Not a life-changing one.
Just what would feel kind after this?
And wait.
Maybe something answers.
Maybe nothing does.
There is no test here.
The practice is in the asking.
And pausing.
The willingness to hear yourself before rushing towards someone else's answer.
Perhaps that is how your own voice grows easier to recognize.
Not because it becomes louder,
But because you stop talking over it.
As we close,
I want to leave you with one more possibility.
What if you are not searching for yourself at all?
What if you are already here and the invitation is simply to become a little quieter around your own knowing?
Maybe you'll learn the sound of your yes.
Maybe you honour the wisdom of your knowledge.
Maybe you allow I don't know to have all the time it needs.
And after all the years you may have spent learning to read the room.
May you slowly learn to read the quiet language of yourself.
No rush.
You have time take gentle care of yourself.
And as you return to your day,
Remember as always,
You are loved.
You are whole.
You are enough.
