How One Childhood Moment Held The Key WITHOUT Me Even Realizing It.

I'm going through an expansion, and it's scary AF.

I feel my nervous system pulling me back to what's familiar.

It's saying, "Just go back to bed for a little while, and things will be clearer." But I know that's not true. I know that writing this blog is part of the expansion, and my nervous system can't predict what will happen when I expand, so it's fighting me, trying to keep me here in my patterns of what is familiar, no matter how uncomfortable that is.

I had a different plan mapped out for today entirely. A different blog and email. A different post for Instagram. But none of it was landing. It didn't feel right. Something has shifted since I wrote out that list for myself on Friday, and that is really scary for my brain to just not do the list. To not stick to the plan.

My brain loves the list. "Just do what's on the list, that's how we will make money today." But that's not true. What is true is that if it doesn't feel good to me, it won't matter what I do or say; it won't help anyone. So if I'm not feeling it, I pivot.

So here I am pivoting.

One more thing to note here is that when I notice my nervous system sensing expansion, change, or transformation, its job is to put me into a panic. My job is to notice the panic and get curious with what the panic is trying to tell me.

For me, the panic = get back to safety.

Also, for me, Expansion = get curious with what is happening. There's something to learn here. And the panic and expansion both happen at the same time.

This is the power of embodiment. To BE IN the body to FEEL what is happening. To feel what is a yes and what is a no. To be able to feel what is and is not aligned with you.

Here's the blog my body is asking me to write to you today.

I felt the rush, the stress, the deadline in my dad's voice all the way down 3 flights of stairs.

"Hurry up, Laurie, we don't have time, just get down here and help me unload a few things from the car. Grab your brother, too."

I knew not to bother with putting my sneakers on because it would take too long, so I slipped on my nude flats and ran down the stairs.

I started to unload the car that was full of some heavy things. The stress level was really climbing, though, because no matter how fast we made trips from the car to the basement putting things away, it wasn't fast enough.

My dad handed me a 5-gallon bucket filled with heavy tools. I needed 2 hands on it, and I waddled half-hunched over, carrying it to the basement. I was walking down the stairs when my dad said something to me, but I couldn't hear him. I lost my footing and fell down every step.

The tools and bucket went flying everywhere. The sound of it must have been awful because a neighbor heard it and came flying to the door to see me on the ground. She was so upset. I assured everyone I was okay and got up, heading back to the car to finish unloading. All the way to the car, I was yelled at for not wearing sneakers.

About a week later, that same neighbor came up to me asking how my back was from the fall. I said it was fine and that it wasn't hurting too much anymore. I said I should have had my sneakers on, but I was in such a rush.

She said to me, "Laurie, you shouldn't be doing all that heavy lifting. Those tools were so heavy. You could have been seriously hurt."

In that moment, I had never felt so seen. So acknowledged. So understood. I felt like "Wow, you get me. You see how hard it is." "You're listening to me." The feeling I had in my tummy was relief. Peace. Calm.

As she was talking to me, something life-changing got locked in. For me to be seen, acknowledged, and understood, I had to lift things beyond my capacity. I had to work beyond my capacity. I had to do really hard things that wouldn't be expected of me, and when I did these things, then I would be understood, acknowledged, praised, and seen.

What I was experiencing that day as a 12-year-old would be the driving force in my life for the next 40 years, WITHOUT me even realizing it.

I never asked for help.

I did everything myself because it was my responsibility.

I exhausted myself by overworking, overstudying, and overperforming.

My point is, I never did anything easy ever since that day with the bucket of tools and that locked-in moment of being seen as a result.

But what also got locked in that moment was the overworking, which caused me to miss out on the fun of raising kids. I missed out on the fun of being relaxed. I missed out on what it felt like to not be stressed out all the time.

And maybe you’ve been doing this too.

Maybe your version wasn’t carrying a bucket of tools down the stairs.

Maybe your version looked like becoming the one everyone relies on…Overworking in your business…Never asking for help…Feeling guilty when you rest…

And maybe—like me—it all traces back to one moment that taught you who you had to become to be loved, safe, or seen.

That’s what I call a Locked-In Moment.

One moment. One story. One survival decision your nervous system may still be operating from today.

And the beautiful thing?

Once you identify it… You can begin to rewrite it.

I created a free guide called The Locked-In Moment to help you uncover the moment that may still be shaping your patterns today. Get free access to it here

And if you already know you’re ready for deeper support, breaking these patterns in real time, book a call here to learn more

Have a question? Email Laurie directly at laurie@lauriejuszkiewicz.com

Talk soon, Much love,

Laurie Juszkiewicz

ICF PCC Certified Coach

Certified Bodymind Method Coach