Lean In — Wholeness- How Do We Stay Open Without Handing Ourselves Away?

I’m Suzanne — a mum, occupational therapist, and long-time listener to the quiet wisdom that families carry. Lead Together is a space where parents and young people lead, services follow, and your vision for your life and your family’s life is honoured from the start. You are the expert. I’m here to walk beside you.

Welcome here,

This week, I notice my attention has been closer to the ground.

Head down.

Trying to keep up.

Afraid of missing something important.

There are seeds growing around me now—

both literal and figurative—

and I notice the quiet pressure of wanting to tend them all well.

The trees outside have become heavier with leaves.

The wind moves through them differently now.

The birds in the garden seem busier too.

Playful one moment,

searching for food for their young the next.

And perhaps this feels familiar somehow.

This season where life expands quickly, while our capacity does not always stretch at the same pace.

This month, we are moving into Integration and Wholeness.

Words that can sound polished very quickly.

As though wholeness means finally becoming certain.

Resolved.

Untangled.

But this week, integration feels much less complete than that.

More like learning to remain connected to myself while life feels full and uncertain.

To receive support without disappearing into it.

To remain in relationship with what is happening, without fully outsourcing myself and without pretending I am untouched.

And perhaps this matters.

Because many of us know what it is to trust deeply and then feel disappointed when support does not arrive in the way we hoped.

Parents know this.

Communities know this.

Professionals know this too.

So perhaps integration is not about unquestioning trust.

Perhaps it is something slower.

More careful.

More honest.

This week we begin, as always, with L — Lean In, guided by an Occupational Therapy lens.

Lean In invites us to notice lived experience without rushing to fix it.

To trust the body as a source of information.

To stay close to what is real.

Body

Pause for a moment.

What is your body carrying this week?

Not theoretically.

Right now.

Perhaps there is fullness.

Pressure.

A sense of trying to tend too many things at once.

Perhaps support has been offered—

and part of you wants to lean into it,

while another remains watchful.

Not resistant.

Just careful.

Because the body remembers what happens when things become too much.

When reassurance does not fully arrive.

When trust has felt uncertain before.

This week, we are not asking protective parts to disappear.

We are simply noticing what happens when support begins to approach.

Can the body stay present long enough to notice it—

without rushing to fully trust,

and without immediately pulling away?

Perhaps that is enough for now.

Story

As we notice the body, stories begin to surface.

There may be a story that says:“I should be able to manage this on my own.”

Or:

“If I let support in fully, will I lose myself in it?”

This week, I found myself thinking about parents I work alongside.

How often they are encouraged to trust systems, professionals, advice, and reassurance—

while also carrying experiences of not being fully heard.

How difficult it can be to allow support to land while still remaining connected to one’s own knowing.

And perhaps this is part of integration too.

Not hardening into isolation.

Not handing ourselves away in the name of belonging either.

But learning, slowly, to remain connected to ourselves while in relationship with others.

Messy.

Imperfect.

Human.

Like the cracked teapot still sitting on the table—

slightly chipped,

still pouring.

Breath

Now gently bring your attention to your breath.

Take one slow inhale.

Notice the support already around you—

the chair beneath you,

the movement of air,

the life continuing beyond your own effort.

And as you exhale,

notice that you are still here too.

Not erased.

Not separate.

Still part of the relationship.

On the next inhale:

I can receive support without abandoning myself.

On the exhale:

I can remain open without pretending certainty.

This week, Lean In is not asking you to trust blindly.

It is simply asking:

What support might you cautiously allow yourself to receive—

while still remaining connected to your own response-ability?

A Glimpse Ahead

Next week, we will move toward Engage — exploring what it means to participate in relationship and community while still remaining connected to our own voice, discomfort, and discernment.

A Closing Blessing

May support approach gently.

May reassurance land where it is ready to land.

May you remain connected to yourself, even in the fullness of what you are tending.

May you remember that not everything needs to be carried perfectly in order to belong.

And somewhere nearby, the ladybird wanders the garden without needing to tend every growing thing — trusting she belongs within the fullness of it too.

and the cracked teapot remains on the table—

still pouring,

still imperfect,

still part of the gathering.

Take all of the care,

Suzanne

You're receiving this because you're part of Lead Together—a slow, relational space for all communities living in intergenerational spaces with the more than human world.

On my website www.leadtogether.ie you will find information on some of the services I offer and also a holding space that holds all of the newsletters.

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