You’re closer to expansion than you realize

It was a simple morning that turned into a healing experience. That happens a lot for me. I wasn’t journaling or setting up some ritual. I was just making another cup of coffee. Nathan mentioned he lined up a showing for a house I didn’t think would work out.

He teased me about how I can overshare or give too much away, and how that could backfire in a negotiation. I laughed because he’s right. And then I admitted the flip side of it: half the time I don’t say anything at all. I avoid. I go quiet. I’d rather keep the peace than ask for what I want.

It wasn’t really about the house. It was about how my nervous system learned to keep me safe.

For years, I’ve bounced between two modes: oversharing or avoiding. Loud or silent. Both are survival habits. If I spill too much, maybe I’ll be useful enough not to get rejected. If I disappear, maybe I won’t get hurt. Neither one is really me. Both kept receiving from feeling safe.

If you’re sensitive, you probably know this dance. We don’t just flip a switch and become a new self on demand. We feel first, process, then move. Our bodies need proof before they trust action.

Where a lot of us get tripped up is confusing speed with safety. We binge on strategies, try to force it, then wonder why nothing sticks. It’s not that you don’t want it enough. It’s that your body doesn’t feel safe yet.

When worth and lack get tangled, your mind says, “let’s go,” but your chest says, “not yet.” You plan the bold move, then overshare to manage the risk, or go quiet to avoid it altogether. That’s old armor doing its job.

Here’s what I’m learning: you can be exactly where you are and still be moving. You don’t have to hate your now to grow into your next. The more honest you are about where you’re at, the faster your body can catch up.

The past few months have been a lot of tending. Closets and emotions. Letting go of what can’t come with me. Dropping the armor that used to keep me safe.

The truth? I’m soft. I’ll go quiet before I fight. That doesn’t make me less. It just means I have to build power in a way that my body can handle.

This is where receiving comes in. If asking feels awkward, if you overgive just to feel okay, if you shut down when it’s your turn to be held, that doesn’t mean you’re fucked. It means receiving still feels unsafe. Until your body believes it’s safe, life will continue to circle around over-efforting and under-nourishment.

And this isn’t about doing it perfectly. It’s about practicing until your body starts to believe you.

Practice looks like small, steady proof. One less cigarette. One honest sentence. One brave ask. Stack the reps. That’s what sticks.

If you’ve been carrying that hum of not-enoughness, the way through isn’t more pushing, it’s safer. Safety to ask, stay, and be seen.

And yes, people will still be people. Someone threw a harsh word at me a few weeks ago. Not my favorite moment, but also not the truth. It was a chance to root deeper instead of shrinking smaller. Growth doesn’t need a perfect world. It needs a steadier body.

Here’s what’s been helping me:

• Butterfly breathing. Inhale, arms fold in. Exhale, arms open wide. Whisper: “It’s safe to receive.” Do it once a day. Tiny reps.

• A cleaner ask. Instead of over-explaining or going silent, try: “Here’s what I want, and I’m open to how it works.”

• Reality check. Social media isn’t your measure. Sleep, food, movement, real conversations — that’s your house. Build that first.

Oversharing and avoiding aren’t enemies. They’re signals. They show you where safety still needs to grow. They show you the exact doors where receiving is waiting.

And the truth is, you’re closer than you think.

Next week, I’ll share something to help you ground this even more. A way to practice receiving in real life, so it doesn’t just stay an idea in your head. Something simple, steady, and doable, so by the end of the year, you can actually feel your system holding more instead of collapsing under it.

Keep it boring. Keep it repeatable. That’s what rewires your system. The sparkly breakthroughs will come, but this is what makes them last.

You’re not behind. You’re laying down the walls for a house you’re finally ready to live in.

👽💛
Danielle

Join me on Substack, where I publish new content multiple times a week.