I am tiptoeing around in the first chapter of a new era. There is ease, and there is apprehension. I am struggling to stay patient as I take each step, following what is in alignment with my Self. This is a season of creating, nourishing my Self, and waiting. Also, writing.
I worked as a therapist for fifteen years, specializing in play therapy with children, expressive therapy, and somatic therapy. I was busy with sessions, with notes, with holding space, with wondering if I was doing my best, and then seeking ways to do better. I was full. In the last five years, I expanded into a group practice with contractors, which included extra bills, lots of phone calls, and the weight of holding a space where seven therapists could be happy, make a career, and stay long enough to help pay those bills. It was, in fact, too much for me. The group practice process had stretched me and was great in many ways, but the truth is I am a therapist, not a business person.
So, I stopped.
In June of 2024, I closed down my one-to-one therapy practice. It was a relief. I needed space. It was also very sad. Many of my clients were children, coming for play therapy, and I adore facilitating play therapy sessions. I feel deeply inspired and alive when I sit with someone as they express what they cannot say with words and do what they need to come home to themselves. It can be painful, and even unbearable at times, but once we touch into those hard things with curiosity, warmth, and love, what is left is their own light. It is glorious
At the end of July, all the therapists who contracted with my business moved on. A group of them bought my brand and moved to a new location. It was bittersweet that the business I had held in my carefully cupped palms for twelve years now belonged to someone else. It had been precious to me. This business was created from my heart, and it was an emotional process to let go—even to three women I trust very much.
In September of 2024, the sweet 1910 heritage building that I had purchased for the community of therapists sold to a new owner. This sale also came with big emotions. I loved that building, the way the sunshine filtered in, and how the original sliding wood doors between the living room and dining room spaces made a perfect play therapy space. The building felt sacred.
I sat with many broken hearts in there, in that filtered light, and found the salve they needed. My heart ached as I let go of my room. It was a time of mixed emotions: grief, relief, gratitude, optimism, fear, excitement. I put down a big responsibility I had been carrying. I was tired and I was free.
I spent the first weeks of that freedom napping, in nature, reading novels, and with my family. I felt my capacity widen. Now, I am writing, organizing, and creating while still enjoying the simple pleasures in my life.
I trust that living in my full authenticity, navigating life beyond acculturated expectations, and choosing what is aligned with me are the ingredients that will open this next chapter with ease, fulfillment, and grace.
This journal entry could have been a lot shorter. Another version may have gone like this: change is hard and stirs many emotions, but in order to move ahead on your journey, you have to let go, feel it all in order to make space for what is next. The end.
Also, I am excited.
Thanks for reading,
Warmly,
Rachael ♡
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Relational Embodied offers therapist consultation and teaching about neuroscience-informed, non-directive play therapy, somatic approaches, and right-brained, relational therapy.
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©Relational Embodied | All rights reserved
Privacy Policy | Terms
Website Design by Avenlee Collective