Hello dear one,

I invite you to reconnect with your body in whatever way feels right: an intentional breath, placing a hand on heart or shoulder, pushing your feet into the floor and feeling that pressure.

Perhaps you sense inwards and readjust to make yourself 1% more comfortable.

This week we return to 2022-Rebecca as she heads into finals and a visit to see family over the holidays. While we’re in October 2026 as I write this letter, these winter entries may have you reflecting: How do I rest?

Whatever the environment looks like outside as you’re reading this, can you sense internally reflections of that season?

What is the current season asking you to shed or illuminate?

Rooting for you,
Rebecca

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[If you’re newly joining, this is part 17 of an ongoing journey—actual entries from the years featured in the mythical short story “Root Living.” You can begin with part 1 here.]

Tuesday, Dec. 6 2022 [Loam 10%]
[Partial context for you, Loam reader: Callie is Evan’s ex who he asked months ago to stop talking to him. Likely a genuine narcissist. There’s the day she told Evan she wanted to physically hurt me, and he was afraid she’d come to my house. The day she spread rumors at HQ that Evan and I ride around together in the work truck in civilian clothes, which I learned of when my supervisor asked me about it during evals. More interactions I cannot take time to recount. In sum: my body does not feel safe in her presence.]

I'm inside changing into clothes for chainsawing, and peeing before we head out. Chainsaw work always puts my body in a heightened state –  When I leave the office, I see we're all circled up. Evan and some others aren’t here yet. I've missed the beginning of the safety meeting, which is disorienting. 

Jim is telling us about locations and groups.

“Group 1 will be Laura, Callie, Garth, and Evan," he says.

Oh no, oh no, nooo!

Evan can't be with Callie. 

This is exactly why I talked to Alec privately last week, to prevent this from happening! I told him enough context to request Callie not be paired with me or Evan. But safe Work Lead Alec isn’t Law Enforcement Jim, who is leading this operation. 

I need to remedy this.

Let's end the circle so I can talk to someone. I can't say it aloud in front of the whole group. 

How can I fix this, how can I fix this.

We're still all standing in a circle, so I walk straight across the circle to Alec and say "Can you help me with what we talked about?" (wink wink, nudge nudge)

He remembers our private conversation and knows exactly what I’m referring to.

Alec says, "Yeah, some folks want to practice, so maybe we should split up Tim and I."

“Well, we need you two to do the more technical trees,” says Jim.

“Oh, okay,” says Alec. I’ve returned to my place in the circle.

Just then Callie’s truck pulls in, and she walks inside the maintenance office to change.

I can feel the pressure mounting. She'll be out here in 1-2 minutes. I only have 1-2 minutes to try and get groups changed, but we're all in a circle… come on, let's break, let's break.

Callie joins the circle. I'm totally panicked. 

Jim says my name. Did he ask us a question?

"What?" I ask. 

"Do you have anything you want to say?" 

"I still need to get PPE together," I say. "Yeah, we'll have time for that," he says. 

"Tim?" he says.

And Tim gives a thoughtful safety tip. Oh, whoops, we're going around and saying safety tips. I'm so ungrounded, I feel trapped with Callie. Come on let's break, come on let's break.

Finally we're out of the circle. I need to get PPE in the fire cache. My heart is pumping so fast, but I barely notice.

Nick is heading towards the cache. I start to follow and turn my head behind me. Callie is still back at the circle group, good.

"Nick–" I start, and then realize I'm starting to cry.

"Yeah what's up?" he says.

I wait to make words. I'll have to just say it with emotion, because that's what's here. Fuck.

"I need to not be with Callie today."

He hears my broken voice and pulls me aside, behind the fire cache.

"I didn't know I would get emotional, I just need to not be with Callie."

"Did something happen?" he asks.

"No." I say.

Of course something happened, but I can't tell you, you’re law enforcement.

"Okay, well, I won't be there all day, so I'll make sure Jim knows."

"Thank you."

And then I walk into the fire cache, only to see Callie there.

My thoughts are fuzzy, I don't even know what I'm looking for. Do I need ear pro? No, I have some. Do we need to grab chaps?

I go to my work truck to grab my hard hat. I need to unlock the side compartment to get it, so I go in the front seat to get the keys. The keys aren't there.

I search and search. I'm also looking around; will Evan be spared from working with her? I hadn't said his name too. 

I dig my hand down between the seat. Where the fuck are they?

I go to the passenger side and look around. I won't get far without them; where could these keys possibly be?

Whoops, I don't have water for the day; my drom is sitting on my living room floor, I just have the single bottle. 

Keys, keys, keys.

Oh my god, I find them in the middle console, in front of my face. I'm so out of it.

Thursday, Dec. 8 [Loam 10%]
I wake up feeling slightly better than I had the day before–an oncoming cold–but I cannot get out of bed. Last night's HVAC class was overwhelming per usual. Our instructor hadn't even written the final yet, even though the final is next week. Wtf do we prioritize from 500 pages of dense info?!

The thought of spending the day outside in the cold, working in the shop, trying to fill the time, being around other people – it feels too draining.

And although for my standards I'm really not too ill; I could probably work the day okay, I listen to my body. It needs more rest. It knows finals are next week, and if I push it too hard today and need to rest all weekend, I'll only feel more overwhelmed.

And so instead of falling into scarcity mindset–I only have 50 hours of sick leave, using today's 10hrs will put me down to four days… I simply text my coworkers and stay home.

I can't sleep, even though I can tell my body needs sleep. I'm not well-slept enough to read or do homework. I lie in bed. I notice my frustration/discomfort at this texture of a "wasted" day–not enough energy to read, journal, etc., but not able to simply sleep. Lying here in a dazy funk. I watch a little bit of Grace and Frankie, and later listen to Sarah Blondin's "Surrender to the Stillness" meditation again.

On the second play of that 30-min track, just as I'm finally starting to release--I think I've started a dream--I hear a low engine rumble sound. It's not the Bobcat. Not a regular work truck. What equipment is it? Who's here? What are they doing? While I love my super-hearing, I'm pissed that I have to hear work sounds when I'm trying to rest; never able to fully disconnect when I stay home sick during the week. I put in ear plugs and can still hear that low rumble driving up and down the street.

Eventually I decide I'm too awake for the chance of returning to any dreaming, and begin to get up. Then I receive a text from our housing director saying that our regional IT person is going to start sleeping at my house Mondays and Tuesdays from here on out. I begin to cry. This wasn't even on my radar as a possibility. 

Just four days ago I spread back out when Peter's stay ended. Spread out my food in the fridge, brought my textbooks back out to the dining room table. Full body energetic exhale, feeling the safety of having this space to myself. 

So much expansion/contraction/expansion this past month, and now contraction again. I'm instantly overwhelmed and exhausted at thinking about this. I'll probably have to bring the microwave back in from the garage; I just put it out finally when Peter left, glad to have the eye sore out of the kitchen.

I think about calling Evan. It's his weekend. He's had really poor service out where he lives the past day or two, my messages arriving a day later. I pick up my phone and debate calling. Is my resistance to calling the old story of not wanting to be a burden? He's reassured me to please call him when I want to; he wants to be my support person. 

Will a conversation with Evan really give me what I need? part of me wonders.

Then I set the phone down and go to my altar, take a seat, close my eyes, and begin my grounding practice. My spirit comes right away and soothes me as I let tears fall. 

She understands everything; I don't have to explain it.

She receives me with such tenderness, compassion, and understanding.

"Come lean back on this tree," she says. "You don't have to do anything; just receive."

And she begins to conduct the grounding, the energy healing – as I've practiced with my teacher since July – while I receive.

Afterwards, on this day that's felt so blah, I begin baking cookies. I'm nearly out from last week, and know I'll love them during finals week. I light some incense. I tidy up in my room. I put in a frozen pizza. Then I bake banana bread, using up the rest of the bananas. 

I eat the pizza with a movie and do not go to Thursday night class; I already know what will be on next week's final. I'm setting myself up for a fresh weekend tomorrow.

---

My 10% was going to my altar in this moment, especially since I haven't been grounding each morning on workdays as I did so consistently for so many months. I let my intuition make my own medicine, which was exactly what I needed in that moment. In this instance, reaching out and calling Evan for support wasn't the aligned action for my whole Being, while in other instances that same action could be the right thing for me. I know this because of how I felt.

December 18, 2022
Prompt: What part of your story is ready to winter?
…
Another part of my story which I’d like to lay down is that I have to fight hard to earn my 7 grade at work, that I need more knowledge to have respect/worth in the maintenance world. I want to honor the knowledge and experience I have today, and not put power into the title of my job.

Prompt: How do you rest?
I rest with the heating pad on my back, weighted blanket over my legs and body, propped up in bed with a good book on TV.

I rest with rooibus tea and a fun snack – like popcorn or chocolate granola.

I rest by watching a movie with Evan and Kitty on the futon.

I rest by absolving myself from doing anything more than my current capacity – we’ll write the letter when we have energy for that, even if it’s months from now.

I rest by gleaming the home and taking care of things that weigh on me (aka “closing loops”) – mouse sensor is installed under the hood, bathroom door has been sanded down so it won’t wake me when housemates go in at night.

Sat. Dec 17, 2022 [Loam 10%]
Before we headed to the computer lab for our Wednesday night final, our instructor tells us next semester's class will be an hour longer than this semester: it's scheduled from 6-9:30pm. On nights this semester when we stayed until 8:45pm I made silly driving mistakes on the drive home because of my total exhaustion/way-too-late stimulation, wouldn't sleep well, and was always depleted the next day at work. Staying until 9:30 is not an option for me or my body. If the length weren't bad enough, next semester this class will be on Mondays, meaning I'll be drained from the first day of the week. Ugh.

We go to the lab and sign into screens for the exam. There's another instructor in the room proctoring one of his students, and this instructor starts talking with my instructor. They're trying to use quiet voices, but in this small room where the other seven students are silent, it's all I can hear. I grab at my neck for the ear-pro I wear around it all day at work, and am disappointed when my hands turn up empty. Oh right, It's after work and I've changed clothes. Bah, I wish I could just pop in my ear pro, why didn't I think to bring some?

I'm reading the second question but my mind can't make sense of anything. Stators and rotors. What is it asking? I read it again. And again. I see words on a screen but I can't take any meaning from it; all I can hear are the words these two men are saying. I can hear their whole conversation. 

I hold my left ear-lobe shut with my left pointer finger, but need to click on the mouse with my right hand. 

I can't think. I can't read. This class was frustrating enough. Can I ask them to stop talking? I've been getting the vibe from my instructor all semester that he doesn't like my questions, that I'm the one who asked for a syllabus two months in (& we still never got it), who seeks some sort of orderly roadmap in this scramble of a course, the one who keeps pointing at the emperor and gently saying you have no clothes! Me asking him to be quiet now will be exposing him again, and further his resentment.

Don't they know we can hear everything? We're trying to take an exam!

They leave the room and walk down the hall; my body is so relieved. I get through several questions.

Minutes later they return. And continue their conversation. Their talking pulls all of my attention and tears start to well. It's okay to ask for needs, I remind myself. Your comfort matters. The mental encouragement will not result in action tonight; if I try to speak up now, I think my voice will crack or I'll cry. Why does it feel so hard in this moment to say a few words? 

I think about hitting submit and just leaving the room. I don't care what grade I get in this class, that doesn’t matter. I'm just here for knowledge. The pressure is building and building; I know this overstimulated feeling well now.

You're just exhausted from mid-week and the depleting energy you've felt in this instructor's class all semester. It's Wednesday night. Of course these noises are overstimulating you.

The more time that goes by, the less I feel able to break the silence. I go back and forth from overstimulated and teary to putting all my focus and attention into getting these damn questions done so I can leave this room and go home.

It doesn't feel great, yet somehow I manage to finish 50 questions with the instructors talking, and the pressure doesn't pop into a teary release. I click submit. I pack up my bag, stand up, push in the chair, and am surprised to see my instructor is at a computer right behind me.

"Can I talk to you about next semester?" I say.

"Sure" he says.

I walk out into the hallway, so our conversation will not disturb others taking the exam. He follows.

My exhausted state helps me cut straight to my truth:

"I can't stay past 8:45pm next semester, so what do you recommend -- should I leave early every week, or just drop the class?"

I don't think he expects me to put dropping on the table. He tells me to just buddy up so I can leave early and find out from someone what we cover in the last hour each week.

***

The next day, I wear my ear pro around my neck to my Thursday night final -- same computer lab, different instructor -- and pop them in as soon as I sit down. Although there aren't any instructors talking, it really helps me focus and feels like a win after last night.

December 21, 2022
Prompt: What are your intentions for this winter season?

My intentions are to welcome and view my feelings with gentle compassion, to turn to my spirit and guides when I need comforting——and also to thank and bless when I’m not activated. Revisit prayer? Re-establish grounding in a way that feels right when I’m living with a housemate. To turn towards writing – intentions, wishes, ideas, thoughts – this is how I process and learn. And I will use discernment with school: what’s worth energy to learn? What can I pass on? What makes HVAC class feel less scrambly? And of course, pleasure and play always. Delighting in pleasures, feeling into play at work, releasing old stories about Kai/Kira. These are my seeds in this moment. 

Dec. 23, 2022 [Loam 10%]
My flight to the midwest——where I haven't been in three and a half years, and where all my family lives——is tomorrow. My brother Mark, who I am close with, is going to my parents' house for nearly the entirety of my weeklong visit. 

Tonight my mom sent out her weekly Friday email. In it, she said that Mark is arriving at their house on Sunday.

Sunday?! But he was going to be there on Saturday, he was going to be there when I arrived!

I text him and ask when he's coming again, knowing full well that my mom must have more current information.

"So I'm just gonna come Sunday now, to play it safe" he replies. "Maybe early afternoon arrival."

I feel discomfort arise in my body. I imagine getting picked up at the airport by my parents. My body constricts and feels grey and smooshed and lifeless.

A whole car ride alone, and then an evening at home, and then an entire morning on Christmas, and afternoon, until my first safe sibling friend shows up?

I feel the urge to text back "Please come tomorrow if you cannnn," but I pause. He has made his choice. He's probably delaying because of the winter storms, giving more time for plows to clear the roads. I know how anxious Mark gets about driving this 3-hr drive.

I let him make his decision, and I sit in my discomfort and fear. 

I notice the lens of fear, and I turn to some of my guiding principles: All Timing, Right Timing. Lens of Love.

What if the experience alone with my parents' energies is exactly what I need to open this visit?

What if all is unfolding perfectly?

I will Trust and be in each moment as it comes. So for now, that means resting and melting the future-discomfort I was anticipating.

December 24, 2022
I’m on my flight from Phoenix to Chicago. Just made my energetic tools mini-zine and January calendar. During my session with Caroline on Wednesday, I talked some about Kira (who wouldn’t even look at me on Tuesday) and it felt so old and sticky. After our session – where she cleared my heart chakra – I wrote a quick petition of release on a scrap of that yellow legal pad (about Kira), folded it up and put it in the lit candle to burn.

After a minute or two, I for some reason moved it to the bathroom sink – oh yes, so I could open the bathroom window and get it away from the smoke alarm. 

A few minutes later, there was a LOUD sound. 

The glass had broken, and two huge jagged pieces fell into the sink, some on the floor. 

I cried for a second, my system so startled at the noise and the breaking. 

That piece of paper burned and burned! 

Forty-five minutes later Evan arrived and it was still burning.

Oh, also, there was a beautiful gold etching pattern, tiny, on one of the pieces of paper – which looked white/already burned. My first thought was the beauty inside Kira, when all I see are loud sounds, sharp jagged edges, and toxic smells. 

I let it keep burning, thinking my request wouldn’t be transformed/received unless the whole slip burned. It burned for HOURS. It smelled toxic. 

Finally, before bed, I said “I can blow it out. I can stop this.” and I blew out the candle and left the window open to air out. Later I set the candle in the trash. Woah!

The next day, Evan talked a lot about Washington. I guess it’s where he wants to live. The idea is still new to me, and I’m just settling into the Desert. I love the weather here. I’m not a fan of the rain. The thought of starting a new job sounds really exhausting and hard, though I’ll have to be looking next summer anyway when my term ends… a period of unemployment sounds great too. A thru-hike. Reflection and clarity. Do people only hike when it’s a big transition? Can I be partnered with Evan and be hiking for two months? I am still making a list in my mind – the things I’m unsure of with Evan, what most concerns me.

Dec. 31 2022 [Loam 10%]
… I haven't seen my cousin Hannah in three and a half years, and while I'm grateful she hasn't asked me anything about my life (so draining to repeat verbage about w-o-r-k, especially after having just told her mom in our 1:1 hour+ visit), I'm curious about hers. And yet, since she arrived, there hasn't been an opening. Her attention has been on the kids. She seems so tired and fractured, it's not the right time to have connecting conversation.

I realize I've hardly spoken a word since she arrived.

I've also been purposefully holding in a pee for maybe five or ten minutes now, because I thought it'd be an easy exit to use the bathroom, stay standing, put on shoes, and leave. But then Hannah and the kids arrived unexpectedly; I'd wanted a little more time with the kids.

I recognize my drained-ness at this point—the interactions I’ve just witnessed were especially taxxing–and decide it's time to head out. I stand up, have a brief thought of announcing "I'm going to use the restroom," but there is so much noise with the kids that I mumble under my breath "I'll just use the restroom" as I pass Hannah and little Jenny singing into her microphone. I continue up the stairs to the first door on the right. 

As I'm walking into the bathroom, I hear my aunt Carmen’s voice in a hushed whisper to her family. Time slows down. I sense that I'm not supposed to use that bathroom, that they froze when I got up and headed up the stairs.

I flip on the light. The sinks and counters look fine. Then I hear her say, "I left my clothes all over the floor!"

I turn and look to the left side, which was hidden by the door and dark before. Yes, there's a pile of clothes on the floor.

I just have to pee; I don't care. Carmen hasn't said anything directly to me, I'm just overhearing and intuiting. "I don't mind," I announce, and make to close the door, but I pause. I have this fast back-forth back-forth feeling, as I'm sensing her discomfort, like I should already have come out.

"Do you want me to use the other?" I ask.

"Yeah go downstairs" Carmen says. "It's embarrassing" she says in a hushed voice to her daughter.

So I turn off the light, come out of that bathroom, walk down the half flight—facing everyone—and then down again into the basement. I feel like I caused that awkwardness. 

Announce yourself when you're using the restroom, my body learned. Ask permission to use their restrooms. There is not close comfort of being okay in front of another's mess.

***

As I drive away, I feel strongly that sense of less-than and separateness which I always felt around these cousins as a kid. 

I didn't say a thing once Hannah arrived. She must think I'm a quiet, awkward person. And her opinion feels so strong to me. 

And then the whole bathroom thing. I feel wrong. Inferior. Weak. Other. Invisible.

I cry as the pain-cycle feelings of being unseen, less-than, and non-belonging resurface. By the time I'm a block from my parents' house, I'm so raw and tender. My parents' house is not a place to freely feel emotions. 

Instead of turning onto their street, I drive past it and continue up the road, up a few blocks to a small conservancy at the top of the hill. There, with the grasses, I cry. I sit on a cold rock, close my eyes, and put my right hand over my left shoulder. I spend a moment there, breathing, feeling, letting the child hurt to be seen. It's scrappy. Then I walk the short loop in the snow, each step a reconnection to the Earth, to my grounding, to my soul, before I return to the car and drive home.

My 10% was driving to that conservancy to give myself space to feel, a small transition time before returning to my parents' house for another aunt visit – after such an activated, tender afternoon.

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