Notes From the Middle

A reflection on presence, process, and the medicine of being with what’s not yet resolved.

I used to think you had to be on the other side of it to speak.
Like there was some invisible threshold you had to cross before you could be wise and worthy enough to share on whatever “it” was.

But I’m now in full-fledged belief that’s a myth—
That if you’re still in it, you shouldn’t be sharing.
That you need the clarity of hindsight before your words carry weight.

Not everything needs to be resolved and turned into a five-step method, I promise.
(And to be honest, most five-step methods I’ve played around with have an expiration date in the face of continuous evolution).

There’s unfathomable medicine in the middle—
In the moments that are unresolved, uncomfortable, and wildly human.

But our culture (even our healing culture) has become addicted to outcomes.
Even ‘mindfulness’ feels like it’s slipped into performative presence—
When what we really need is an embodied relationship with the messiness of the human experience.

The unspoken belief that says presence only lives in peace?
Yeah, that’s a load of horse dung.

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OOF. That feels like a hot take.

I can feel my whole being wanting to stop writing here—
My hands blasted off the keyboard.
My breath got heavy.
My eyes darted around looking for my phone so I could Google someone smarter who’s already said this…
The desire to fact-check myself and find someone who can say it better is strong…

This is the place I usually abandon myself.
But today, I’m staying.

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I wanted peace to be the prize, too. I really did.
I thought presence was supposed to feel like floating.
But that kind of presence disappears the second things get hard—
And it always left me thinking I was the problem…

Presence isn’t a spa treatment.
It isn’t always stillness and light.
It’s actually snotty, sweaty, and shaky, too.

Because presence can exist in confusion, in heartbreak—even in panic.
It can (and should) live in every one of those moments where your nervous system is screaming get me da fuq out of here—
But you stay. You slow. You feel, anyway.

TBH, cultivating presence in those states is actually the “mama we made it” moment everyone should be seeking (in my personal—and professional—opinion).

Because when you stay in your body in those moments—
When you stop narrating your way into control…
When you stop rushing toward “the other side”…
When you let the middle be the middle—
That’s when things begin to change for real.

This reality is a dumpster fire (and I mean that in the most loving way possible).
We can’t deny these experiences are going to happen (the ones that come with some shake and some break)— But learning to cultivate presence within them?
That’s a huge flex.
Like a tear-in-the-matrix kind of flex.
That sh*t opens portals to different dimensions and timelines.

We need to stop just training for how long we can hold peace—
And start training for how deeply we can meet chaos.
Not bypass it.
Not fix it.
Just be with it.

Don’t get me wrong—
I believe in peace, and love, and light, and all that good-golly-goodness.

But I also believe that Earth is a pretty ratchet and feral experience, and we chose that for a reason.

I didn’t come here to be a good little girl in glitter land. I came here to love the dumpster fire that is this reality. And I’m here to romance the hell out of her, baby.

To sit with her in her ache.
To walk beside her as she burns and rebuilds and rages.
Not because I have the answer—
But because I’m not afraid to sit with her in the process.

I’m here to help her find presence in the chaos— So we can remember there are always other choices.
Not to force a choice— But to provide an expansive menu of what else is possible.

I want less “let me teach you” and more “let me walk with you”—
In the sweat, the ache, the awkward half-thoughts. Because that’s letting the middle be the middle.

When you let the anxiety be the middle.
Or the heartbreak.
Or the dumpster fire.
Or the foggy nothingness…

When you stop rushing toward the “other side,” Something shifts.

You don’t bypass the moment. You become present inside it— No matter what the moment actually is.

Everything is the middle.

And when you let it be the middle—
You stop gripping.
You stop narrating your way into control.
You become present inside what is.

And from that place, transformation happens on its own.

Not from a fix or from a finish line, but from remembering:
You were never broken to begin with.

And that’s the real thing you’ve been chasing all along, isn’t it?

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This space is definitely one that’s still becoming for me, a little window in to my de-coding and re-coding of my own personal human experience.
If you felt something here, hit subscribe.
There’s more medicine coming from the middle, I can promise you that.