135 - The Gap: What Happens Between Who You Were and Who You're Becoming

So for now, this piece is called The Gap.

Almost every newsletter I write has a photo at the beginning and the photo is part of the story.

This photo is my six-year-old daughter who is smiling as she takes a selfie and she has a massive gap in her mouth.

She lost one tooth, one baby tooth.

She's actually lost three now, but this gap is one baby tooth that looks like like three have gone missing.

The gap keeps getting bigger before the tooth fills in.

So here's how it goes.

You see this incredibly cute little girl with a really big gap.

And it starts by saying, you're getting your adult teeth.

Therese said to me five years ago, wait, Two decades of this work, studying, healing, unraveling, rebuilding, teaching teacher trainings, helping people out of chronic mental and physical pain.

And you're telling me in the metaphor of life, I'm barely getting my adult teeth.

Underneath my defenses, another part of me went, no. she might be lovingly correct because I was lying on the floor, exhausted, heavy in my bones, a foggy gap between me and the next step, a gap in my life that felt so big.

I wasn't sure anything was coming at all.

Here's the deal.

So for now, this piece is called The Gap.

Almost every newsletter I write has a photo at the beginning and the photo is part of the story.

This photo is my six-year-old daughter who is smiling as she takes a selfie and she has a massive gap in her mouth.

She lost one tooth, one baby tooth.

She's actually lost three now, but this gap is one baby tooth that looks like like three have gone missing.

The gap keeps getting bigger before the tooth fills in.

So here's how it goes.

You see this incredibly cute little girl with a really big gap.

And it starts by saying, you're getting your adult teeth.

Therese said to me five years ago, wait, Two decades of this work, studying, healing, unraveling, rebuilding, teaching teacher trainings, helping people out of chronic mental and physical pain.

And you're telling me in the metaphor of life, I'm barely getting my adult teeth.

Underneath my defenses, another part of me went, no. she might be lovingly correct because I was lying on the floor, exhausted, heavy in my bones, a foggy gap between me and the next step, a gap in my life that felt so big.

I wasn't sure anything was coming at all.

Here's the deal.