The Gentle Art of Thawing Yourself
This week, I noticed myself slipping into overwhelm and shutdown.
For me, that often looks like wanting to disappear into hermit mode.
Sometimes this hermit energy is exactly what I need—it’s my healthy hermit, the one who helps me restore, rest, and gather myself.
But other times it tips into the indulgent hiding hermit—the one who numbs out, avoids, and disappears into binge-watching other people’s stories.
And here’s the thing: I don’t always notice when I’ve crossed that line. I’ll tell myself I’m resting, but if I wake up feeling more depleted and emotional instead of restored, that’s my clue: a part of me has slipped into hiding.
I used to feel shame about this cycle. I thought it meant I was weak, lazy, or doing something wrong. But now I see it as a part of me asking for care—a frozen, shut down part that simply needs tending.
Meeting the One Who Hides
When I turn toward her, she often feels like a little girl curled up in the corner—small, scared, unsure. So instead of pushing her (which only makes her cling tighter), I try to approach with compassion, gentleness, and play:
✨ Be curious. Why does she want to hide? What would help her feel safe?
✨ Meet her where she is. Acknowledge how much energy it takes to leave her safe corner.
✨ Soothe and comfort. Wrap her in a blanket, rock her, sing lullabies, or hold her close.
Tempting Her Into Defrost
When she feels a bit safer, I offer small invitations:
Hard-to-resist options: a favorite outing, a beloved trail, or a plan with a safe friend.
Activating her senses: warm tea, uplifting music, grounding smells.
Movement and expression: swaying, dancing, walking, singing—anything that gently thaws the freeze.
And here’s something important to remember: thawing isn’t always comfortable.
Just like when your foot “falls asleep” and wakes back up with pins and needles, coming out of numbness can feel tingly, restless, or even overwhelming. This doesn’t mean anything is wrong—it’s simply your body coming back online. You are okay, even if it feels activating at first.
The Most Important Part!
The biggest lesson for me has been to release expectations.
If she doesn’t thaw as quickly as I want, I remind myself: frustration only deepens the freeze.
When we tend to the parts of us that shut down—with compassion, curiosity, and play—we slowly melt the ice. And in that warmth, we remember:
There is nothing wrong with us. These frozen parts are not bad or broken. They just need our love to come back into the light.
