Hope, Denial, and a Pretty Bow

I had to let someone go last week – someone I really liked personally, but who’d been unreliable for too long. Long enough to see it was a pattern, not a blip. (Don’t you just hate it when that happens?!) It reminded me of Maya Angelou’s quote, “When people show you who they are, believe them!"  Still, I did the classic thing of waiting – for them to change, to get it together, to take responsibility.

Supporting, understanding, always hoping. And wrapping it up in a bow called “just being loving and kind.”

Which was partly true…and so ‘on brand’!

But deeper down? I was avoiding the hard conversation and the possible fallout.

I’m sharing this because so many of you wrote to me after my recent blog on “Why I Still Find Hard Conversations bloody Hard.” Clearly, we’re not alone here.

And even though I teach this stuff – in trainings, retreats, and coaching – I still get tangled in the same trip wires.

Panic: Party of One

As I picked up the phone, I felt the wave of panic: knot in my stomach, chest tight, palms sweaty. Within seconds my clear mind turned into a blur of busy-blankness. Maybe you can relate?

I knew I couldn’t do it in that state. So I lay on the floor like a starfish, breathed and gently unpacked the cluster of reactivity. I dropped down from my racing mind and tuned into my body, like listening to an upset child. I placed a hand on the aching knot and asked, “Sweetheart, what’s really going on here?”

(Spoiler: It’s Not Really About Them)

Here’s what my body told me:

• I’m afraid they won’t like what I have to say – that I’ll be seen as unkind or selfish (and maybe it means I am).

• I’m afraid if they leave, I won’t be okay – I’ll feel unsafe and unsupported.

• I’m afraid setting this boundary means losing the version of me people prefer: agreeable, easy, the one who makes everything smooth.

No wonder it felt terrifying. My younger part still believed other people get to decide if I’m good, safe, and lovable – and that keeping the peace was the only way to belong.

The Real Scary Bit: Facing Reality

Setting a boundary comes with discomfort and even grief. It means accepting what someone cannot give, facing reality as it is, and letting go of the idea your words, patience and hope will change them.

We’re not really scared of setting the boundary – we’re scared of facing that reality and of the possible repercussions. Of dealing with the internal battle that comes up when someone dislikes or disagrees with the thing we say – the shut down or pushback or silent treatment.

When we stop people pleasing, people will not be pleased! So instead, we soften boundaries into suggestions or stay silent and quietly seethe.

But our job isn’t to manage their feelings or reactions. Our job is to be fiercely devoted to reality and our peace.

The Call That Didn’t Kill Me

I waited. Just breathing and listening. And after a few minutes, the panic softened. The fear moved through and space opened up.

With a steadier heart – I picked up the phone. I was calm. I said what needed saying. Clear. Kind.

And here’s the unexpected gift: I felt lighter and actually more connected to them afterwards – like the truth had dissolved something heavy between us. That’s not always the case, of course. Sometimes there’s fallout, sometimes there’s loss. But sometimes, speaking the truth is the very thing that clears the air and deepens connection – most importantly, with yourself.

Somatics to the Rescue

But here’s the truth: 👉 You’ll never create the life you want if your body shuts you down every time you try to speak up.

When your body’s alarm goes off so loud - with such intensity, courage feels impossible.

You won’t ask for what you need.

You won’t have the hard conversations.

You’ll keep people-pleasing, hstling for approval, and staying in relationships that can’t give you what you want.

And this is why so much of my work is centred in somatic practices. By combining simple body-based tools with nervous system awareness, you can stop reacting to your body’s alarm – no more blanking out or erupting.

Instead, skilfully soothing yourself so you learn to stay calm and grounded, which builds clarity, self-trust, and over time, healthier relationships. Truth then feels less like danger and more like freedom and connection.

Peace Isn’t Neatly Wrapped

I know this isn’t easy, my love. I still find it bloody hard, even with all my years of practice. But this is the work of midlife: telling the truth, choosing ourselves, and facing the fact that peace rarely comes neatly wrapped. Sometimes there’s fallout or discomfort to navigate. But the lasting peace comes from knowing we didn’t abandon ourselves.

We’re in this together, we really are. And we can do this.

Because the alternative is pretending – and we are way too wise (and too tired!) for that game now.

And if you’re wondering where to even start – I’ve got you. I’m putting together a free workbook to help you spot the places you override your truth and give you simple somatic practices to feel brave enough to finally say what you really think.

👉 If you’d like a copy, just hit reply and I’ll add you to the list.

With you, flat on the floor today, flying free tomorrow,

Deborah 💛 x 

💬 PS If you've been circling a conversation like this too, just know - you are well in the range of perfectly normal! I'd love to hear how this lands with you - DM me if you like a private chat or share your story in the comments.

Sometimes we just need to give it air and it helps other women see they’re not alone. Your words might be the reminder someone else needs today.

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