Hold space. Love the idea, hate the term.

Hold space. Love the idea, hate the term.

The term makes me think of disingenuous touchy feely people. They feel fake and desperate to tell you how much things touch them. You know, the ones who seem to never fart or get pissed off and mean to anyone because they're so busy living in tents with their guitars and their feelings. Blech.

I fart. And sometimes I'm a bitch with a bad attitude who yells at other drivers and has a mean streak when I'm tired. But mostly I'm pretty nice and want to be kind to the people around me, When my friends need someone to talk to, I like to be it. I want to be a person you can tell shit to that can let it be bad and overwhelming and all just too much, without intervention. I don't do it right most of the time. I want to swoop in and give you an answer. I want to help.

But that's not what hold space means. It means that being you has gotten so big you can't contain your whole self in 1 body right now. It means, being you has expanded out and rocked pieces of you a part, like a rocking chair that has simply been rocked too hard and now is tipped over and doesn't fit in the room right. You don't fit in your body right because there's just too much there to fit until you take inventory and reorder. What's going on with you is so big, it just doesn't fit neatly together.

AND meanwhile I have room. My self feels organized, like the cleaning lady just came and I had time to sleep and hold my kids and read a book, so it's pretty orderly around here so what do you need? Some space? No problem. I can shut up and give you a bit of storage space within myself. You can carve through what's on top, toss a few duffel bags of whatever my way. I can hold them until you're ready. I can let you spread some of yourself out willy nilly, haphazardly, and you can sort through stuff, organize and take the pieces back when you're ready. I can just hold that space for you like a spot at the table within myself. Pull up a chair. I'll try to let you talk.