The 7-year theory…

It’s probably not the text anyone wants to receive at 3am… “I can’t breathe.” To be fair, I wrote it mid-nightmare, and I hadn’t realized I’d even sent it until my phone vibrated with a response. Nothing like inviting someone into the depths of your private hells. Fuck.

I do that often, though.
Not the “can’t breathe” texts, but the literal holding of my breath.

It seems ridiculous to need a reminder to breathe, but my thoughts are frequently fragmented, and my attention wanders- both sometimes requiring a voice calling my name to remind me to breathe.

Maybe it’s the same way we hold our breath before a big jump… or, in this case, the next leap into uncertainty.

I have this theory that- from the time of birth- we self-transition every seven years. Following the course of the chakras, the seventh year relates to connection…

where we fit in- where we find our place- with family, friends, and our little corner of the world.

There’s a physical adjustment as well: the body seems to shift slightly off-kilter, and even clothes fit a little differently. A body that was once known & familiar becomes a stranger overnight.

I also theorize that- regardless of where you are in the cycle- when you have kids, the 7-year transformation starts over…

so it makes sense that now- as my kids are 20 and 21- I’m in that uncomfortable and unfamiliar seventh stage- momentarily caught deciphering life through slightly-off prescription lenses, trying to again navigate where I fit physically and emotionally…

where I belong-
acquainting myself with unwelcome shifts in my body-
determining my place in this world.

Somedays it radiates energy and vibrancy. Colors taste brighter. Strength and balance come effortlessly on my mat.

Many days it’s suffocating. Dizziness prevails. Grounding feels turbulent.

Those are the days it’s challenging to catch my breath: the days where I battle with ‘how the fuck did I get here’… instead of ‘how the fuck did I get here.”

Reclaiming your place when the kids are grown, and you’re needed differently parallels Brene’s life being brutal and beautiful.

We need both.

Just like we need solid rooting and grounding to nourish connections, abundance, and opportunity… within and around ourselves.

Sometimes brutal. Sometimes beautiful.

I’ve read that breath is an anchor- and maybe my challenge in finding my breath is rooted in dragging its stability into the next seven-year stretch.

It’s an ardous task. Though the jeans and t-shirts might be the same, my self resembles little of my self of seven years ago. But really, I’m not sure that I would want it to.

Because in order to get to here, there’s six previous years:

grounding and safety,
passion and creativity,
decisiveness and confidence,
love and forgiveness,
communication and expression,
clarity and vision…

and when you think about it, it’s actually all quite breathtaking.