I was walking quickly through the living room on my way to the laundry room to start a load of laundry. I was solidly in my head thinking about the flow of the day and all that needed to be accomplished. I was scheduling every step of my day in my mind so that I could relax into my day and be present.
In a moment, a flow of energy washed through my body that pulled me out of my mind and into presence. I stopped walking and paused to feel what was happening in my body. There was a tightness in my chest with zippy, tingly, quick energy. I felt almost like I was being squeezed tightly and my body was looking for more space. I looked sideways towards the glass doors and my eyes immediately were drawn to one of our cats resting gently and quietly in the basket of a cat climbing structure. I smiled when I saw her. She didn’t even come close to fitting on the basket of the climbing structure, she was trying to squeeze herself into something that she had long ago outgrown. I stood looking at her. I understood the urge. She knew the climbing structure well and she loved it. It felt known, comfortable and easy to her. It was ok that she was spilling out of every side and edge of the basket that she was trying to rest in. It was ok that there was no way that it could possibly hold all of her. It was ok that she was desperately trying to make herself small to fit into something that had felt so supportive in the past. It was ok that she was curling herself into a small ball and still was too big to fit in the limited space that was available. It was ok that her body would be uncomfortable trying to be squashed into a place that used to feel restorative and restful. It was ok that she had clearly outgrown the space but wasn’t ready to see it yet. It was ok that she wasn’t ready to move on and find a space that could accommodate all of her growth. It was ok that she was holding onto something that didn’t support who she was at this moment. It was ok. No one gets to tell us when we have outgrown our environment.
“I get it” I said to her, noticing that the contraction in my chest had dissipated.