There is a phrase I have said more times than I can count.

Maybe you have said it too.

“I’m fine.”

Sometimes I actually am.

But there have been plenty of times when “I’m fine” meant something else entirely.

It meant:

I’m not fine at all.

I don’t know how to talk about this.

I don’t have time to fall apart.

I don’t know if this is a safe place to unpack it.

If I start talking about it, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop.

Please don’t ask me again.

And sometimes, if I’m really honest, it has meant:

“If I can convince you I’m fine, maybe I can convince myself.”

I don’t think most of us do this because we’re trying to deceive anyone.

I think we do it because we’re trying to keep functioning.

We have things to do. People who need us. Jobs to finish. Meals to make. Messages to answer. Responsibilities to carry.

So we develop little phrases, little habits, little ways of moving through the world that help us keep going when something underneath us is hurting.

“I don’t care.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“I can handle it.”

“I’m just tired.”

“That’s just how I am.”

“I don’t need anybody.”

“I’ll deal with it later.”

Sometimes those things are true.

But sometimes they are cover stories.

And I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what might be underneath them.

Not because I want to diagnose us.

Not because I think every difficult experience from childhood is secretly some enormous trauma.

And certainly not because I think we need to spend the rest of our lives digging around in the past.

Quite the opposite.

I think there may be enormous value in becoming curious about the things we have been carrying without realizing we were carrying them.

Because before we start talking about growth, perhaps we need to know what we’re growing from.

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You Can’t Grow an Acre in a Flowerpot

Our culture is absolutely fascinated with growth.

Be better.

Think better.

Eat better.

Exercise more.

Set boundaries.

Build confidence.

Become your best self.

Heal your inner child.

Raise your standards.

Change your mindset.

Set goals.

Get disciplined.

And some of that advice is genuinely good.

But I’ve been thinking about something:

You can’t grow an acre’s worth of garden in a ceramic pot on your porch.

Not without first considering the soil.

What’s already in it?

What’s growing there?

What has taken root?

What’s depleted it?

What’s been buried?

What has been watered?

What has been neglected?

What has been growing quietly beneath the surface while you were busy trying to plant something new?

I think our inner lives work much the same way.

Before we start throwing seeds of self-improvement into the soil, perhaps we should stop and take inventory.

Not because something is wrong with us.

Because where we begin matters.

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I Remember Being Picked Last

I can still remember being in third grade, standing on the school playground while teams were being chosen for kickball.

The power players were chosen first.

Then came everybody else.

I was the second-to-last kid chosen.

And even then, I wasn’t really chosen because somebody wanted me on their team. There was one other girl left, and apparently I was considered the slightly less risky liability.

I remember the feeling.

Pick me.

The embarrassment of standing there while name after name was called.

The quiet humiliation of being passed over.

And the painful realization that nobody seemed particularly excited to have me.

I wasn’t sitting there thinking about childhood development or self-esteem.

I was a little girl.

I just knew it hurt.

And I don’t know exactly what that moment contributed to the woman I became.

Maybe it contributed something.

Maybe it didn’t.

Maybe it was one tiny thread among many.

That’s actually the point.

Not every formative experience is huge.

It doesn’t have to be catastrophic.

It doesn’t have to qualify as trauma.

It doesn’t even have to be something we remember clearly.

Sometimes it’s a comment.

A comparison.

A rejection.

A moment of embarrassment.

A time we felt invisible.

A time we were praised only when we performed well.

A time we learned that someone else’s happiness seemed more important than our own feelings.

A time we needed comfort and didn’t know how to ask for it.

Sometimes it’s one event.

Sometimes it’s a hundred little ones.

And sometimes those experiences begin weaving themselves together.

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Look for the Threads

Think about a blanket.

When you’re wrapped up in one, you don’t see thousands of individual threads.

You feel warmth.

You feel comfort.

You feel protected.

But the blanket is nothing more than a vast collection of individual threads woven together.

Our lives are like that.

A moment happens.

We experience it.

We interpret it.

We decide what it means.

Then another experience comes along.

And another.

And another.

Sometimes the experiences aren’t even objectively the same.

But they feel the same.

And somewhere inside us something whispers:

“See? There it is again.”

I wasn’t chosen.

See? There it is again.

I’m being overlooked.

See? There it is again.

Someone else was preferred.

See? There it is again.

I’m disappointing somebody.

See? There it is again.

I’m not enough.

And eventually, those individual experiences can become woven together so tightly that we stop seeing them as individual threads at all.

They become part of the blanket.

Part of the way we see ourselves.

Part of the way we interpret other people.

Part of the way we make decisions.

Part of the way we protect ourselves.

Sometimes even part of what we call “just who I am.”

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What If Today’s Reaction Isn’t Entirely About Today?

Have you ever had a reaction that surprised even you?

Something happens and suddenly you’re way more hurt than you think you should be.

A comment.

A rejection.

Someone else’s silence.

A friend’s choice.

A spouse’s behavior.

A criticism.

Being left out.

Feeling ignored.

And you find yourself thinking:

“Why is this affecting me this much?”

Instead of immediately telling yourself you’re overreacting, what if you became curious?

Ask:

Is my reaction entirely about what is happening right now?

Maybe it is.

But maybe today’s event has touched an old thread.

Ask yourself:

Have I felt this particular feeling before?

When?

Where?

With whom?

What was happening?

And then, perhaps the hardest question:

What did younger me decide about herself the other times she felt this way?

Maybe she decided:

I’m not important.

I’m not pretty enough.

I’m too much.

I’m not enough.

I have to work harder to be chosen.

I can’t depend on people.

My needs are inconvenient.

If I make everybody happy, they’ll stay.

If I’m useful, I’ll be valuable.

If I never need anything, nobody can disappoint me.

We may not consciously remember making these decisions.

Children don’t usually sit down and formulate beliefs about themselves.

They experience something and try to make sense of it with the information they have.

And sometimes the explanation they come up with follows them into adulthood.

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This Isn’t About Blaming the Past

I want to be very careful here.

We’re not building a courtroom.

We’re not trying to find somebody to blame for every insecurity we have ever experienced.

And we’re not going to turn ordinary childhood moments into diagnoses.

We’re investigating.

That’s different.

Because something can have affected you without being the single cause of everything you struggle with.

Someone else’s choices can hurt you without becoming their permanent ownership of your identity.

And a childhood experience can matter without needing to be labeled catastrophic.

We’re simply becoming curious about the threads.

Because sometimes today’s reaction isn’t entirely about today.

Sometimes today’s moment is touching something that has been woven into us for a very long time.

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And We Don’t Have to Pull the Whole Blanket Apart

That’s important, too.

We’re not going backward so we can live there.

We’re going backward just far enough to understand what came forward with us.

We’re not digging through our past because we’re broken.

We’re digging because what we don’t understand can quietly continue to influence us.

And eventually, what we have never examined can begin to feel like identity.

That’s just who I am.

I’m just sensitive.

I’m just a perfectionist.

I’m just independent.

I’m just a worrier.

I’m just not good with conflict.

But what if some of those things aren’t simply personality?

What if some of them are learned responses?

What if some of them began as protection?

What if something that protected us then is quietly imprisoning us now?

I don’t know.

And neither do you.

Not yet.

That’s why we’re going to investigate.

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So This Week, Just Notice

I don’t want to give you a neat little three-step plan for fixing your life.

Life doesn’t work that way.

Neither does healing.

Instead, I want to invite you to become curious.

Maybe this week isn’t about figuring yourself out.

Maybe it’s simply about noticing.

Pay attention to the phrases you reach for when you’re overwhelmed.

Pay attention to the moments when your reaction seems bigger than the circumstance.

Pay attention to the feelings that seem strangely familiar.

Pay attention when something happens and a little voice inside you says:

“See? There it is again.”

You don’t have to figure out what it means yet.

You don’t have to force a memory.

You don’t have to decide that you’ve discovered the one event responsible for everything that has ever happened to you.

Just notice.

Maybe write it down.

And if something keeps tugging at your attention, let yourself become curious about it.

Because sometimes the first step toward healing isn’t changing anything.

Sometimes it’s finally seeing what is there.

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Find One Thread

Maybe you have a phrase.

Maybe you have a reaction you don’t understand.

Maybe you have a feeling that seems strangely familiar.

Maybe you have a memory from childhood that you’ve never considered important.

Maybe you have absolutely no idea where to begin.

That’s okay.

We’re not looking for drama. We’re looking for patterns.

So don’t try to pull your entire blanket apart.

Just find one thread.

Hold it gently.

Look at it without judgment.

Wonder where it might lead.

Because we’re going to spend some time together over the next several weeks learning what to do with the things we uncover.

We’re going to look at the beliefs hiding underneath our coping mechanisms.

We’re going to examine what those beliefs have been doing in our relationships, our choices, our boundaries, our self-image, our striving, and even our attempts at self-improvement.

And eventually, we’re going to ask whether some of the things we have been trying so hard to change aren’t actually the things that need changing at all.

Maybe what needs changing is why we’re doing them.

Maybe the goal isn’t to become someone else.

Maybe it’s to become whole.

But we can’t begin to understand that until we know what we’re carrying.

So this week, don’t fix anything.

Don’t judge anything.

Don’t unravel the whole blanket.

Just look for the threads.

And if you find one…

write it down.

Because…

We’re going to need that thread. 🦋

 

Until Next Time,