The Shared Experience, Vol. 6: Coming Home to Your Body
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Today has been one of those days where the green light switched on at 4:00 a.m. The dog needed to go outside, and just like that — it was go time.
I've been sitting with a question ever since: did I create the energy of this day myself, or did the universe — and my hormones — simply decide to collide?
If you are in perimenopause, you probably know exactly what I mean.
For most of my life, my cycle was remarkably predictable. I could almost set my calendar by it. Lately, though, it has become anything but consistent. Sometimes it arrives earlier than expected. Other times it lingers just out of reach, and there is something strangely unsettling about that waiting.
Years ago, a late cycle would have sent me straight to the drugstore, wondering if another baby was on the way. That chapter closed after our fourth daughter, when my husband — at my insistence — had a vasectomy. He promised. And thankfully, he kept that promise. So now, when my cycle stretches beyond what feels normal, it is no longer signaling new beginnings. It is quietly reminding me that another season of life is unfolding.
Perimenopause feels a bit like watching a sunset. The light is still there — but it is changing. I can feel my body trying to move through familiar rhythms, almost as if parts of my cycle are starting, but the hormonal orchestra doesn't quite have enough musicians to finish the song. I know it is coming eventually. It is the waiting — the wondering, "When is it going to happen?" — that can feel surprisingly exhausting.
What I Have Learned About Transitions
Over the years, I have come to understand that transitions ask something different of us. Through teaching yoga, working as an Adapted Physical Education specialist with children and adults of all abilities, and simply living through my own seasons of growth, I have learned to rely on what I call small rituals.
They are not grand gestures. They are simple practices woven into ordinary moments — a walk outside, a few deep breaths, preparing a nourishing meal, lifting weights, stepping into the morning light, or taking a quiet moment to reconnect with myself. These rituals don't erase discomfort. But they remind me that I have the capacity to move through it.
As a former Division I athlete, I know that growth rarely happens when everything feels easy. The most meaningful breakthroughs have always come after pushing through the voice in my mind insisting that I couldn't. The same is true now. Every workout, every walk, every intentional choice to care for my body strengthens my ability to tolerate discomfort without letting it define me.
Perimenopause is teaching me that resilience isn't about fighting my body. It is about partnering with it. Every challenge offers an opportunity to understand myself a little more deeply, to trust the process a little more fully, and to discover that on the other side of uncertainty is often something even better than I imagined.
And this is what I keep coming back to: when life feels uncertain, don't live only in your thoughts. Come back to your body. The body knows the way home.
The Ritual I Want to Share With You This Week: Grounding
A few months ago, I attended a wellness event in Beverly Hills with my cousin Keri Seavey. It was a full day of nourishment — aura readings, yoga, journaling, and sound bathing. We both dressed in our most comfortable yoga outfits, gave ourselves full permission to simply receive, and spent the day among other wellness creators and women who understood exactly why that kind of day matters.
My favorite part was getting my aura photograph taken.
A warm, friendly couple ran their aura photography business right there at the event. You step into a darkened area with black screens, sit on a stool, and place your hands over large magnets resting on your thighs. You are asked to sit still and look directly into the camera lens for about thirty seconds. Shortly after, you are handed a photograph — a color representation of your energy field — along with a color guide. Then the husband or wife gives you a reading.
Mine stopped me in my tracks.
I was told I had a lot of creative energy — but that it needed to be grounded. The husband explained it to me like this: my creative, sometimes elusive energy was rising up and out of me, and I needed to pull it back in, back down, back into my body. I could feel the truth of what he was saying. There are times when I feel like I am outside of myself — unmoored, unsettled, not quite as calm or secure as I would like to be.
His recommendation was simple. He told me to spend more time barefoot on solid earth. To make it a daily ritual — something that could take as little as five to ten minutes and fold easily into things I was already doing.
Walking barefoot on grass. Tending to the garden with your feet on the ground. Going down to the beach and letting the sand work its way between your toes. This barefoot connection to the earth — sometimes called grounding or earthing — can have surprisingly profound effects on how we feel.
What the Research Suggests
While the science is still evolving, several small studies suggest that grounding may help reduce perceived stress, improve mood, support better sleep, and promote a greater overall sense of well-being. Spending time outdoors also naturally encourages mindfulness, morning light exposure, and a genuine pause from the constant stimulation that fills our days.
Whether the benefits come from direct contact with the earth, the calming effect of nature, or a beautiful combination of both — the practice invites us to slow down and return to ourselves.
Sometimes five intentional minutes with your feet on the ground is enough to remind yourself that you are supported, steady, and fully capable of moving through whatever this season is asking of you.
Healing in Small Measures
I have learned that healing doesn't always arrive through dramatic change. More often, it happens through small rituals repeated over time.
One intentional breath.
One walk.
One nourishing meal.
One sunrise.
One moment with your feet on the earth.
These simple practices have become the anchors that carry me through seasons when my body feels unfamiliar. When the hormones are unpredictable. When the 4:00 a.m. wake-up calls arrive without warning. When I need a reminder that I am not falling apart — I am simply changing.
Maybe these rituals will become yours, too.
Returning to your body doesn't always look like a big practice. Sometimes it is as quiet as the moment after a shower — warm skin, a few deep breaths, and something gentle in your hands.
I reach for Suet'Amor in those moments. A small amount pressed into my face, my hands, any place that needs a little extra tenderness at the end of a long day. It has become part of how I close the loop between the world out there and the rest I need in here. A ritual that says: you did enough today. Now come home to yourself.
Our bodies work hard through every season — the predictable ones and the ones that surprise us. They deserve nourishment that truly understands them.
Explore Balm de Amor — nourishment your skin will recognize →Please note: This post reflects my personal experience and is not intended as medical advice. If you are navigating perimenopause or other hormonal changes, please consult your healthcare provider.