Creating enough safety to return to yourself.

I remember the day I said to myself, “I want to figure out how to be happy.”

What I didn’t realise was that this simple thought was about to take me on a winding path of self-exploration and, dare I say it… healing.

Many years ago, long before I immersed myself in Yoga, Qigong and other somatic practices, my then housemate made an appointment for me with her Haptotherapist. She could see I was struggling in ways that I couldn’t yet understand.

Being typically English, talking about my feelings wasn’t something that came naturally. But curiosity eventually got the better of me and I went. What happened during that first session quietly changed the direction of my life. She simply asked me,

“Can you feel how you feel?”

It sounds so obvious now, but at the time it completely threw me.

When I finally turned my attention inwards, I realised my body wasn’t quiet at all. It ached all over. I felt heavy. I was so tense and I was holding far more than I understood.

I remember feeling both fascinated and concerned. Fascinated because I had stumbled across a version of myself that I hadn’t known existed. Concerned because I had absolutely no idea what to do with what I found. Years later, Yoga picked up that conversation where it had left off.

Like many people, I was captivated by the promise that Yoga and Qigong might hold the answers I had been searching for. In my innocence, I thought that if I breathed deeply enough, stretched often enough and meditated consistently enough, I would eventually arrive at a place where anxiety and stress no longer touched me.

While these practices have changed my life in profound ways, they have also taught me something I wasn’t expecting. Learning to regulate my nervous system didn’t remove my struggles. Instead, they allowed me to see them more clearly – Sometimes more loudly!

Ironically, I hadn’t begun practising because I was looking for enlightenment or calm. I had started because of a leg injury and simply wanted a way to keep moving. But it didn’t take long before I realised that Yoga wasn’t simply exercising my body. It was introducing me to it and slowly teaching me its language.

For the first time I began noticing things I had spent years ignoring. The tension I carried. The restlessness beneath the surface. The constant striving. The exhaustion I believed was simply normal.

But, I continued to push through. I ignored my ‘pain’. I convinced myself this was simply what life felt like. Until one day I crashed and burned.

Looking back, I can see that burnout wasn’t my body letting me down. It was my body making sure I could no longer ignore what it had been trying to tell me all along. It also completely changed the way I understand the self-regulation practiced through Yoga & Qigong .

These weren’t just symptoms. They were information.

My body had been communicating with me all along in the only language it knew. The problem wasn’t that my body wasn’t speaking. It was that I didn’t yet understand its language.

To me, self-regulation isn’t about controlling ourselves. It’s about creating enough safety that we can begin an honest relationship with ourselves.

When we feel safer in our bodies, we’re better able to pause, listen and become curious about what our thoughts, emotions and physical sensations might be trying to tell us.

For me, the art of self-regulation is learning the language of the body and having the courage to respond to what it’s asks of us.

Sometimes we can begin to understand that language on our own.

Sometimes we need the guidance of a teacher, therapist or trusted professional to help us translate what our body is trying to tell us.

Self-regulation is a practice returned to again & again. It teaches us the ability to notice what’s happening within us and gently guide ourselves back towards balance. Sometimes that’s a few slow breaths. Sometimes it’s a walk. Sometimes it’s, meditation, journalling or simply allowing ourselves to rest. It isn’t one particular technique – It’s the practice of noticing, listening and responding with care.

But here’s what surprised me. The practices weren’t removing my anxiety. They were helping me hear what it had been trying to tell me all along.

As I became more regulated, certain patterns became impossible to ignore. 

I realised how much of my life had been shaped by people pleasing. Perfectionism. A fear of disappointing others. The habit of putting everyone else’s needs before my own. Living according to expectations instead of my own values…

Asking for help

My practices had given me the capacity to see these patterns more clearly. But they couldn’t untangle them for me. That required courage, Honesty, and, dare I say it… support.

Over the years I have worked with a number of therapists and explored different trauma-informed and somatic approaches. Each has offered something different.

Alongside them, my Yoga, Qigong, meditation, journalling and breath-work practices became steady companions.

Rather than replacing the deeper work, they became the support that allowed me to do it. They helped me stay grounded while I slowly made sense of what I was uncovering.

This is why I’m careful about promising that Yoga, Qigong or breath-work will “fix” anxiety or stress.

These are incredibly powerful practices and I have experienced their benefits first-hand, as well as some of the magic. But in my own life they became something even more valuable. They became a compass. They didn’t give me all the answers, but they pointed me towards the deeper work.

Sometimes that meant looking within myself. Sometimes it meant working with a therapist. Sometimes it meant making difficult life decisions.

The practices didn’t remove the work. They gave me the steadiness to do it. Because no amount of stretching can heal an unhealthy relationship. No breathing exercise can undo years of believing you aren’t enough. No meditation can make difficult life decisions for you.

What these practices can do is help us stay present, grounded and connected to ourselves while we do that work.

This understanding has shaped the way I now teach Yoga and Qigong. My classes aren’t about performing the perfect movement or chasing a state of calm. They’re an opportunity to slow down, listen to the body and begin building a relationship with yourself. 

Sometimes that relationship simply asks for more rest. Sometimes it asks for much more. Sometimes that means seeking professional support. Sometimes it means grieving. Sometimes it means changing the way we live. And sometimes it means finally choosing ourselves.

The practices don’t give us all the answers. They create enough steadiness that we can begin asking ourselves the right questions. And perhaps, for the first time, be ready to hear the answers.

When I first set out on this journey, I thought I was searching for happiness.

I imagined happiness as a place I would eventually arrive at if I found the right practice, healed enough wounds or learnt enough about myself.

Life has taught me something much more profound. 

Happiness isn’t a permanent destination.

It’s a collection of moments. A genuine laugh with a friend. A quiet cup of tea in the garden. A walk in nature. Feeling completely present during a Qigong practice. The warmth of the sun on my face. 

Those moments come and go. And that’s okay.

What self-regulation has given me isn’t permanent happiness. It’s something I value even more. Contentment. A steadier relationship with myself. The ability to meet life’s inevitable challenges with greater awareness, honesty and compassion.

For me, self-regulation isn’t the destination. It’s the practice that helps me return to myself, again and again. And perhaps that is where a slightly more authentic inner SMiLE begins.

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If something in this article resonated with you, perhaps that’s your invitation to pause and listen.

You don’t have to have all the answers today.

Sometimes the first step is simply creating enough space to notice what your body has been trying to tell you.

If you’d like some guidance along the way, I’d love to support you. Whether through Qigong, mindful movement or one-to-one sessions, my aim isn’t to “fix” you, but to help you build the steadiness to reconnect with yourself.

If this sounds like something that you may need, get in contact with me & we can talk about how we could work together.