11/12/2025
We’d just settled in at the airport café — nothing fancy, just a drink and something small to eat before boarding. I remember looking around and noticing how bright the lights were. How many people were moving in different directions. And then my body gave me that quiet signal it sometimes does, blurring around the outside of my vision … a soft pull inward, like, That’s enough now.
Not panic.
Not fear.
Just my system saying, “This is a lot.”
The moment we stepped outside to board the plane, everything lifted.
Fresh air.
Open space.
Sky above me.
My body softened immediately, like it finally had room to breathe again.
I honestly thought that was the end of it.
But as the plane began to accelerate down the runway, something happened so fast I barely had time to register it.
My stomach dropped — completely.
It felt like I’d left it behind on the tarmac.
And then the nausea hit like a wave rolling up from deep inside.
My hearing was fine — crystal clear, actually — but I had to close my eyes. There was this deep, instinctive knowing that if I kept them open, I would pass out. Not because I was scared… but because my body had hit its limit and was trying to manage the overwhelm the only way it knew how.
No swirling head.
No chest tightness.
Just the nausea, the stomach drop, and the need to shut everything else out.
So I did the only things I had access to in that moment.
I pictured roots dropping from my feet — down through the plane floor, through the clouds, back into the earth. Something solid to connect to when everything inside me felt unsteady.
And then I quietly used my body reset protocol, just through intention. Almost like plugging myself back in so my system could find its bearings.
Within 10 to 15 minutes, the shift was unmistakable.
My stomach steadied.
The nausea faded.
I could open my eyes again, breathe normally, take a sip of water.
By the time the snack and drink rolled around, I was completely myself again. Calm and present through landing. And the rest of the day unfolded like nothing had happened.
But the next morning, the feeling from the plane was there again — faint, but sitting in my body like a memory that hadn’t finished speaking. With another flight coming up in a few days, I thought, Right, let’s explore this properly.
With a body code session I took myself back to that moment of takeoff, gently.
And what came up surprised me: some imbalances anchored by two emotions from my time in the womb — Terror and Unsupported. The exact sensations that had washed through me on that plane, yet tied to something far older than flying.
As they cleared, the feeling softened…
and then it simply wasn’t there anymore. I couldn’t even connect in with it if I tried.
When I flew home five days later, the difference was unmistakeable.
My stomach didn’t drop.
There was no nausea.
No overwhelm.
No need to close my eyes.
I even listened to a podcast during the flight — grounded, present, steady.
What struck me most wasn’t the flying itself…
but the reminder of how the body carries stories long before we have the words for them.
How everyday moments can bring those stories up to be seen.
And how gently things can shift once we actually listen.
That flight became so much more than travel.
It became a doorway — into my body’s history, into understanding myself more deeply, and into the quiet power of the work I do every day.