This past summer, I signed up for a fall retreat—which, for me, is always a bit risky. Sometimes if I plan too far ahead, the future me wants nothing to do with the plans past me made!
The retreat theme was about hope, revitalization, gathering, and opening to new perspectives. I only knew one person attending—the facilitator—so I was essentially stepping into this experience on my own. Bunk beds, shared meals, group circles, and free time. This introverted extrovert was heading into new territory!
Along with the basics, we were asked to bring two things:
Originally, I planned to bring a robe I no longer wanted. When I mentioned this to the facilitator, she simply said, “Don’t overthink it.”
Cue me…overthinking it immediately.
Her words felt cryptic—what exactly did she mean? Was this “thing” supposed to be literal, like an object, or symbolic, like self-doubt or fear? My mind went into full interpretation mode.
The retreat was about two hours away. Approximately halfway there, I realized I was biting my nails (to the point of pain) and breathing shallowly. My body was clearly trying to tell me something.
Then it hit me—I was anxious. Unprepared. Thoughts like “You’ll be made fun of” and “What you bring won’t be good enough” started looping.
Why was adult Heidi suddenly feeling this way?
I asked myself out loud, “Why are you feeling this way?” And almost instantly, I was transported back to third grade.
In third grade, I signed up to co-run our classroom store with the most popular girl in class. Each month, students could spend “classroom money” they’d earned for good grades or behavior.
I was so excited to work with her…but I was completely unprepared. I showed up at the normal time, having forgotten that we were supposed to arrive early and bring items for the store.
When I walked in, she was not happy. Her shoulders slumped, her face full of disgust. “How could you forget?” she snapped. “You better find something cool fast.”
Panic. Total panic.
I tore through my backpack and desk. Thankfully, I had some smelly pencils—the kind with the pull-out tips—half-used erasers, a few stickers, and reading achievement bookmarks. I even found some quarters for the pencil machine and bought more supplies.
Still, I felt humiliated—like a complete failure.
This connection hit hard. I hadn’t thought about that moment in years, yet here it was, alive in my body. As Bessel van der Kolk so perfectly wrote, the body keeps the score.
Even though I’ve had countless “wins” in life since then, this memory—the feeling of being unprepared, inadequate, and judged—was still stored somewhere deep within me.
Once I realized what was happening, I got defiant. I told myself I wasn’t bringing anything to the retreat. Why should I put myself in that position again?
But as I neared the retreat site, compliant Heidi reappeared. I scoured my car for something to bring—and found a reusable air freshener.
As it turned out, during the retreat, all our items were collected and hidden away. On the last day, we each had to choose someone else’s discarded object and revitalize it. Then we shared it in circle, offering it back to the original owner if they wished.
The person who ended up with my air freshener (still mostly a stranger to me) created something so fitting, it gave me chills.
They had kept it simple—just added blue thread around the string. Blue, the color of the throat chakra—communication and voice. And one of my biggest realizations during the retreat was that I had been avoiding hard conversations, keeping my voice quiet when I needed to speak.
In the end, it unfolded exactly as it needed to. On my best days, I know this truth—but clearly, I wasn’t operating from a regulated state that day. My body remembered before my brain could make sense of it.
Our bodies hold stories long after our minds have moved on. They give us clues—physical sensations, emotions, even resistance—long before our logic catches up.
When we pause and stay curious about those signals instead of ignoring or judging them, we open the door to deeper healing.
So, the next time you find yourself reacting more strongly than expected, take a breath.
Ask yourself, “What does this remind me of?”
Your body might just have the answer.
If your body has been sending signals—tension, restlessness, or emotions that seem to appear out of nowhere—it might be inviting you to listen.
Reiki or therapy can help you reconnect, release, and understand what your body has been holding.
Let’s create space for healing and clarity, together.