Episode 9 — What Begins to Surface, Again

Sometimes when we finally slow down, something unexpected happens.

What we’ve been carrying beneath the surface begins to make itself known.

In this gentle reflection, we explore what can emerge when we stop running, striving, or distracting ourselves long enough to notice what is really there. Together we make space for grief, exhaustion, anger, longing, and the quiet realities that often surface when we begin to feel safe enough to rest.

This is an invitation to stay present—not to fix, explain, or rush through what arises, but to discover that we do not have to face it alone.

More episodes, reflections, and information about my counseling practice can be found at desertstreams126.com/podcast. 

You can also follow along on instagram at @jessiekuhn126

I'm glad you're here.

Season 1: Learning How to Stay With the One Who Never Leaves.

Transcript

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Hello again. I'm so glad you're here. Before we begin, I realize it's been a few weeks since our last episode. And maybe that's actually a fitting place to start. Because life has a way of interrupting our plans. Rhythms shift. Things don't always unfold the way we intended. Sometimes we step away from practices that were helping us. Sometimes we simply get caught up in the demands of everyday life. And when that happens, there can be a temptation to think we need to start all over. But maybe we don't. Maybe we can simply begin again from where we are. Not catching up, no pressure, no shame. Just this moment. Just this breath. And wherever you're coming from today, whatever these past few weeks have had for you, I'm glad you're here. Maybe take one slow breath before we begin. And if it helps, notice the support beneath you right now. The chair, the floor, the seat beneath your body. You don't have to hold yourself up alone in this moment. Over the past few episodes, we've been exploring what it means to stay, to remain present with ourselves. To become aware of God's presence with us. To stop striving quite so hard and allow ourselves to be held for a moment. And sometimes when that begins to happen, something else begins to surface too. I wonder if you've noticed that. That once things get quieter, certain emotions or realities become harder to avoid. Maybe sadness or exhaustion. Maybe anger you didn't realize was there. Maybe grief. Or maybe just the realization of how long you've been carrying something alone. Take a moment and notice what comes up in you as I say that. Not what you think should come up, just what's actually there. Notice what happens in your body as you let yourself become aware of it. Do you tense? Go numb? Feel restless? Want to move away from it? That makes sense. Sometimes when we've spent a long time surviving, movement feels safer than stillness. And sometimes when we finally begin to feel safe enough to slow down, our body starts letting us feel what it could not feel before. Not because we're doing worse, but we're no longer using all our energy to stay away from it. I wonder if any part of you has thought lately, I think I was doing better before. Maybe before things started surfacing, before you slowed down, before you started paying attention. Sometimes staying busy is easier than feeling the grief. But maybe it isn't failure. Maybe something inside you no longer has to hide quite so hard. Maybe your body is beginning to believe it's a little less alone now. I wonder what helps you stay connected when difficult things surface. What keeps you from immediately shutting back down? Maybe it's prayer. Maybe it's another person. Maybe it's simply noticing what's happening and instead of running from it. Maybe lately it's looked really small. That's okay. Maybe a breath or a walk. Maybe letting yourself cry. Choosing not to immediately distract yourself. Sometimes staying connected doesn't look dramatic. Sometimes it just looks like not leaving yourself. And I wonder what Jesus has felt like for you in these places. Not in theory, but in experience. Has he felt near quiet? Steady? Maybe hard to sense? Have there been moments when you wondered why he didn't immediately take the pain away? I think sometimes we expect God to meet us by removing the ache quickly. But often he meets us by remaining with us inside it. Not rushing, not afraid of what's underneath. Not asking us to clean it up before he comes near. Just present. Then maybe for today that's enough. Not resolution, not clarity, not fixing, just noticing what's here and discovering you're not alone in it. I'm glad you're here.