Sometimes Healing Looks Like a Different Room
As I sit here writing this, on my last morning in Wales, I can’t help but look out of the window.
Snowdon stands proudly to the left of me, surrounded by her tribe of mountains, the lake below sparkling diamonds in the morning sunshine.
It’s breathtaking.
And if I’m honest…
My heart hurts a little.
Not because anything has gone wrong.
Quite the opposite.
Because something has gone very, very right.
It Started With A Different Room
I’ve come here for the last few years.
I’ve always stayed in the same room.
It’s become familiar.
Safe.
Predictable.
So when I arrived this year and was told I’d be in a different room, my ADHD brain did exactly what ADHD brains often do.
“Why?”
“What have i done wrong?”
“What’s happened?”
“Where am I?”
“I wasn’t expecting this.”
Change, for many neurodivergent people, isn’t simply about liking or disliking something.
It’s a feeling. An uncontrollable feeling.
Your nervous system notices before your thinking brain does.
Your heart races.
Your mind scans.
Your body asks questions long before words appear.
It’s not being awkward.
It’s not being difficult.
It’s your brain trying to work out if you’re safe.
Then I opened the door.
A double bed.
A beautiful writing table.
A bath.
An actual bath!
I stood and cried my eyes out. Then I laughed out loud.
Because it was better than I’d ever imagined.
As I write this now, I’m sitting at that very table.
The one I didn’t know I needed.
Safety Changes Everything
What fascinated me most wasn’t the room.
It was me.
Normally, unexpected change would have had me asking questions, trying to make sense of it, perhaps feeling unsettled for much longer.
This time…
I didn’t.
It took me a couple of days to realise why.
Trust.
I trust Gaynor.
I trust Tanja.
I trust Evie.
More importantly…
I feel safe with them. Feel. Not know. FEEL.
They’re part of my tribe.
That doesn’t stop my ADHD.
It doesn’t magically stop my nervous system noticing change.
My heart still raced.
I still felt confused for a little while.
Yet underneath it all sat something much stronger.
“I’ll be OK.”
That wasn’t me talking myself into feeling safe.
It was my body already knowing.
You cannot force that feeling.
You cannot positively think your way into safety.
Safety is experienced.
It’s built.
It’s earned.
One relationship at a time.
Finding Your Tribe
This week has reminded me that belonging isn’t about everyone being the same.
Far from it.
We’re all wonderfully different.
Different personalities.
Different stories.
Different ways of working.
Different strengths.
Different quirks.
Yet we’re connected by one common purpose.
Helping people.
Creatively.
Compassionately.
Differently.
Doing no harm.
I watched people quietly hold one another through vulnerable moments.
Celebrate one another’s successes.
Laugh until our stomachs hurt.
Dance with complete joy & abandndment.
Offer a hand without expecting anything in return.
Not to fix.
Not to rescue.
Simply to say…
“I’ve got you.”
That’s what tribe feels like.
The Lake
Every single day I swam in the lake.
That magical lake.
Cold enough to wake every cell in your body.
Calm enough to settle your soul.
This week I ticked something off my bucket list, I even learnt to paddleboard.
I Stood up first time!
With the patience of one very lovely mermaid imp who somehow managed to teach me without ever making me feel silly. I will be forever grateful for what she gave me. Money cant buy that.
There was laughter.
Lots of it.
Wobbles whilst trying to stand on one leg.
Falling in.
Trying again. And again and again. Jill & the patience of a saint to wait with camera held aloft!
Exactly how learning should feel.
No judgement.
Just encouragement.
Isn’t that what we all deserve?
Coming Home Different
I’ve made new friends.
Spent precious time with people who already hold a very special place in my heart.
One hug in particular…
The hug.
The one that filled something inside me I’d been carrying for a long time.
Someone who has quietly held my hand through one of the hardest chapters of my life.
Sometimes people have no idea just how much they mean to you.
I hope she knows.
Because Tracie, I certainly do.
Why Leaving Hurts
Today I feel sad.
A little flat.
Like I’ve left something behind.
Years ago I’d have judged myself for that.
Told myself to pull myself together.
Get on with it.
Not anymore.
These feelings make perfect sense.
When we experience genuine safety…
When we feel seen…
Accepted…
Loved exactly as we are…
Leaving hurts.
Not because something is wrong.
Because something mattered.
Sadness is often love with nowhere to go for a while.
So instead of fighting it, I’m treating it gently.
The Photograph Keeper
Anyone who knows me knows I’m always taking photographs.
Not because I’m trying to live through my phone.
Because memories matter to me.
They help tell my story.
This week I’ve taken hundreds.
Little moments.
Tiny details.
Reflections on the lake.
Mountains.
Friends.
Laughter.
I realised something this morning.
I don’t have to recreate this week.
I don’t have to cling onto it.
I don’t have to chase it.
These memories already belong to me.
No one can take them away.
Instead, I can make space for new ones.
That’s growth.
That’s healing.
Not desperately trying to relive what was.
Yet trusting that life still has beautiful chapters waiting to be written.
What Wales Reminded Me
Wales will always have a piece of my heart.
Not just because of the mountains.
Or the lake.
Although both are utterly magical.
It has my heart because of the people.
Because of what my nervous system learnt here.
That safety exists.
That my tribe exists.
That I don’t have to become someone else to belong. Here I was allowed to be authentic.
I simply have to be me.
Perhaps that’s what I hope every client eventually experiences.
Not becoming a different person.
Finally feeling safe enough to be the person they’ve always been.
Stay safe.
Stay connected.
And take gentle care.
Louise
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