The Murky Middle: Speaking Up, Breaking Down, and Staying the Course

I’ve been making a conscious effort lately to speak more honestly. To say the things that are uncomfortable, to stand in what’s true for me, even when it’s awkward or vulnerable.

And let me tell you: it’s been messy.

More than I expected.

More than I want to admit.

Flubbing Forward

In the first week of intentionally speaking my truth, I stumbled hard. Did I fail? Maybe. But here’s the thing: this work, this real work of showing up differently, was never going to be clean. Shifting how we respond, communicate, and take up space is bound to stir the dust. And sometimes, we end up choking on it.

I tell this story in the Nurse Renewal Retreats I co-facilitate, because it perfectly captures the awkward, beautiful imperfection of change:

A physician was yelling at me, and I could feel the anxious spiral starting—tight chest, shallow breath, fast thoughts. I remembered the tool of grounding and tried to use it. But in my anxious state, instead of grounding into my own body, I blurted out, “I think you need to take a deep breath”… to the doctor.

You can imagine how well that went.

What I meant—what I needed—was for me to take a breath. But I flubbed it. It was a trauma response: anxious, reactive, misdirected.

A few months later, the same physician began yelling again. This time, I caught myself. I grounded into my feet. I took the biggest, slowest, most audible breath I could muster. And what happened? He mirrored me. He exhaled too—like that involuntary yawn you can’t help but return.

It shifted everything.

When Soft Still Sounds Sharp

Behavior change doesn’t happen in clean lines. It happens in the murky, embarrassing, deeply human middle. We flub. We regret. We learn. And if we’re lucky, we grow. But we have to keep showing up, even when it’s icky. Especially when it’s icky.

Recently, I sent an email that I agonized over. The situation that sparked it left me feeling deeply unseen and upset. I asked AI to help me revise it—over and over—removing every trace of what could be perceived as anger or sadness. I sent it to friends, begging them to soften it, to polish it, to make sure I wasn’t coming off too emotional.

It took me two weeks to hit send.

And within 24 hours, the response came:

I was told I was harsh and abrasive.

That broke me.

Because no matter how hard I tried to be measured, composed, emotionally intelligent, even after stripping my words of anything that could be interpreted as reactive-I was still called the thing I feared most.

Rather than shying away from this situation, I chose to engage and seek understanding. I approached it with curiosity. Which words struck a painful chord? How might I have navigated this more effectively? To progress and grow, I need to listen to different perspectives. It isn't easy. It's uncomfortable. It stands as one of the most challenging experiences, as I must confront my own shadow.

Rewiring the Old Patterns

So where do I go from here?

I start with what I can control: me.

I look at whether my tone, cadence, or timing created an unhealthy dynamic. And if it did, I take ownership.

This is my trauma work.

This is what it looks like to unlearn automatic reactions and consciously choose new ways of being.

Changing our samskaras, the deep grooves of how we’ve always responded, takes time.

It takes intention, discomfort, and repetition. It takes being willing to show up messy and still come back again.

And I’ll be honest: I am messy.

My emotions are big. My reactions can be intense.

Sometimes they come out louder than I want.

But I also know this: I don’t want to be remembered, or reduced, to my worst moment.

None of us should be.

The Hormonal Undercurrent

I’m almost 47 years old (only 2 weeks to go) and I am deep in the thick of perimenopause.

My hormones are in a chaotic imbalance.

I’m not sharing this to use it as an excuse. I’m sharing it because it’s true—and it’s another piece I am actively taking accountability for.

I am passionate about women’s health, especially as we grow. I will never stand up and pretend that I am not in the thick of perimenopause right now. I am. I am living it in real-time, and like so many of you, I’m exploring every option. As someone who walks the path of Ayurveda and modern medicine, I am a firm believer that when it comes to health, East can meet West.

I’ve started reaching out to practitioners to explore new support options. I’ve asked my therapist to increase our sessions. I’m doing my best to create a safe space for myself to witness the errors, the mess-ups, and the failures without turning away. And believe me, this is not a comfortable place to be.

Still Here, Still Trying

It’s murky. It’s emotional.

It doesn’t always feel good.

But change rarely does.

So here I am, sharing my truth, sharing the messiness and the imperfections, not only as a way to show accountability, but also as a way to grow.

And maybe, just maybe, to help you see that you are not alone.

It’s murky. It’s emotional.

It doesn’t always feel good.

But change rarely does.

So here’s my truth today: I’m still fumbling. Still speaking up, still being misunderstood, still choosing to be real over polished, even when it’s terrifying.

And I hope that if you’re in your own messy middle, you’ll stay with it too.

You’re not alone.

Because the truth is, as women, we are stronger together.

When we stop pretending we’re fine.

When we speak from the middle of the mess, not just from the other side of healing.

When we hold space for each other’s grief, rage, doubt, and tenderness without rushing to fix it.

This is where our real power lives—in the witnessing, in the willingness to be seen, and in the choice to keep showing up anyway.

So if you’re in it too… I see you.

And I’m walking it with you.