My body quickly forgets that life is on my side.

Even after years of healing, my animal suit tries to protect me from disappointment by attempting to control outcomes.

The protective instinct: Childhood and beyond

It wasn’t safe to be open and soft as a child. And if I put my guard down, my environment quickly reminded me to put it back up. That reminder often came as a surprise, out of left field, catching me vulnerable, reinforcing the need for more protection, more layers.

Sometimes, everything outside of me proves true my conditioned belief that life is not on my side—I am the only one on my side.

The cost of closed hearts: physical and emotional impact

When my heart is closed, and my fire is kept neatly at bay below my diaphragm, with shallow breaths and busyness, of course, the reality I project is one of disappointment, compromise, and smallness.

And if I stay like this for a while, my inner world starts to crumble too.

It’s harder to meditate, harder to...