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Saturday, 9 May 2026
On this day of your life
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I believe God wants you to know ... ... that thinking
the highest thought is the safest
mental exercise. Do not be tempted
to think the smallest thought or to lower your
expectations so that anything above that will be considered
a "win" for you. You will have already lost... Your safety will
not be found in working hard to avoid disappointment, but
in hardly working to produce more and more life. Aim high. Ride easy. Trust God. |
Grounding Through Somatic Practices (OM)
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Stop Nagging Him & Start Asking Yourself This Instead.
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I’m going to say something that might sting a little, but you need to hear it.
If you have to constantly remind a man to spend time with you, he is not the one.
Let me say that again.
If you have to beg for presence, argue for weekends together, or compete with his friends, work, or nights out, he is not the one for you.
This is not a balanced relationship problem; this is a compatibility problem. The real question isn’t: why won’t he change? It’s: why am I staying? Many women experience this pattern, and I have witnessed it time and time again in both my work with couples and individuals. They feel disconnected. They want more quality time. More presence. More intention. More thoughtful planning and date nights.
The pattern goes something like this. You ask. You ask again. Then you remind. Then you don’t feel heard and it leads to an argument. Eventually, you become the nag and frustration and resentment toward your partner starts to set in.
Nagging often happens when you know subconsciously or consciously that your needs aren’t being met, but you’re afraid to face the truth of what that means. So instead of walking away, you repeat yourself. Instead of raising your standards, you raise your voice. Instead of choosing differently, you try to convince him to change. Instead of recognizing your value, you diminish it by continuing to nag.
But here’s the thing ladies: love doesn’t grow through persuasion, through forcing someone to choose you, and through repeatedly having your request for connection go unheard. Love grows through alignment, through shared connection, and through mutual effort.
When a man wants to spend time with you, you don’t have to manage it; he does.
When a man values connection, he protects it; he makes time for it.
When a man sees you as a priority, you don’t need reminders; he prioritizes you and the relationship.
Behavior is the clearest communication in dating.
If he consistently goes out without considering you, that’s information.
If he makes time for everything except you, that’s information.
If you feel lonely while in a relationship, that’s information.
We just don’t always like the message. Sometimes we’d rather believe, if I explain it better, he’ll understand, or if I get mad enough, he’ll finally hear me and understand. You cannot negotiate someone into valuing you. That’s the uncomfortable truth.
The deeper issue isn’t his schedule. It’s tolerance. Every time you nag instead of set a boundary, you are subconsciously signaling: I will stay even if my needs aren’t met. The more you subconsciously send this messaging to yourself, the more you are eroding your self-worth and self-esteem. People adjust to the standards you enforce, not the ones you talk about.
So instead of asking, why doesn’t he want to spend more time with me? Ask, why do I allow access to someone who doesn’t prioritize me?
Instead of asking, why does he go out so much? Ask, why am I choosing someone whose lifestyle doesn’t match my desire for connection?
The moment you stop trying to fix him, you start evaluating him, and evaluation is powerful. It moves you from emotional reaction to conscious choice. Sometimes the fear isn’t losing him. It’s confronting what it would mean to choose differently. What would you need to face about yourself? What would you need to change about who you are now? Sometimes the deeper fear is really about you.
When you stop nagging, something shifts. You observe instead of persuade. You gather data instead of arguments. You let behavior speak, and from that clarity, you decide. Is this man in alignment with the life I want for myself?
Recognize the difference between expressing a need once or twice and repeatedly trying to convince someone to become who you wish they were rather than who they truly are. The first is communication. The second is self-abandonment.
So remember:
A man who wants to spend time with you will make time.
A man who values connection will protect it.
A man who is aligned with you won’t treat your desire for closeness as pressure.
Make the goal to nag less and choose better.
When you stop chasing, you create space to be chosen.
~
The Work No One Sees: Why it Makes you feel like a Fraud (& Why it’s Sacred).
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What if the work that makes you feel like a fraud…is actually the work holding everything together?
Last week, I facilitated a conversation between two leaders on the edge of burning out and walking away from work they care deeply about.
The meeting ended calmly. There was clarity. Even relief. Afterwards, they thanked each other for being “so easy to talk to.”
I closed my laptop and felt the familiar drop:
Did I actually do anything?
No breakthrough moment.
No visible transformation.
Just a system that didn’t fracture.
Many Elephant Journal readers are the ones who hold.
You hold space in difficult conversations.
You hold tension in relationships.
You hold complexity in communities and teams.
You hold ethical lines when it would be easier not to.
You prevent problems that never make it into the story.
And because nothing visibly explodes, you quietly wonder:
Did I really do anything?
Am I overestimating my contribution?
If they looked closely, would they see I’m not as capable as they think?
This is the tender intersection between imposter syndrome and unseen work.
The Paradox Of Wanting To Be Seen
Imposter syndrome whispers:
“Don’t let them find out you’re a fraud.”
But underneath that fear is a deeper, more vulnerable longing:
“Please see what I am actually carrying.”
The problem is not visibility. The problem is inaccurate visibility. When people only see the outcome—the calm meeting, the intact relationship, the team that didn’t fracture—they assume ease. They don’t see the preparation. The emotional regulation. The boundaries held quietly. The conversations absorbed. The decisions made without applause.
When effort is invisible and outcomes look effortless, a distortion forms:
Others see ease. You feel the cost. The gap becomes shame. That gap is where imposter syndrome grows.
The Prevention Paradox
There’s something our culture rarely names:
Prevention does not produce visible proof.
If you are good at sensing conflict early…
catching errors before they cascade…
integrating different perspectives…
creating psychological safety…
steadying a system…
then the result is often:
Nothing dramatic happens. And we live in a world that rewards drama. We reward the breakthrough. The crisis response. The visible win. The loud confidence.
So the stabilisers—the ones quietly keeping things from tipping—begin to doubt their own weight. If there’s no applause, maybe it didn’t matter. But ask yourself: what would have happened if I hadn’t been there? That’s where the truth usually lives.
What If Unseen Work Is Sacred?
Not sacred in a sentimental way. Sacred as in:
Life-sustaining. Integrity-driven. Worthy of care and protection. If you began to see your unseen work this way, something would shift. You would move from performance to stewardship.
Instead of asking, “Am I impressive enough?” you would ask, “Am I tending this well?”
Stewardship is quieter than performance. It’s also more stable.
Imposter syndrome feeds on performance culture. It softens in the presence of devotion. You would change your metric for value.
Sacred work does not require applause. It asks for alignment.
Not: Was I admired?
But: Was I true?
You would stop calling your contribution “just.”
“I just listened.”
“I just did my job”
“I just supported.”
“I just kept things moving.”
“I just made sure it didn’t fall apart.”
There is nothing “just” about holding what could have broken.
Reclaiming The Value Of What No One Sees
This isn’t about inflating yourself. It’s about accurate accounting. At the end of a week, you might ask:
What problems didn’t happen because I intervened early? Where did I regulate myself instead of escalating? What tension did I metabolise so others didn’t have to? You might pause, privately, and name:
That took restraint.
That took preparation.
That was leadership.
That was emotional labour.
Not to post about it. Not to be praised. But so your own nervous system registers the truth of your experience. Because something in us settles when reality is acknowledged. And when you do want reflection, you can ask for accuracy instead of reassurance:
“I’m curious what you noticed about how that was handled.”
Not flattery. Mirroring. Not ego. Alignment.
The Deeper Layer
Imposter syndrome is often less about competence and more about belonging. If, at some point in your life, your effort was not consistently seen or reflected back to you, you may have learned:
If it’s invisible, it doesn’t count. But much of what sustains families, organisations, and communities is invisible. And much of what is sacred has never been loud.
So perhaps the real question is not:
“Am I a fraud?”
Perhaps it is:
“What if I have been undercounting myself?”
What if you removed the word “just” from your language? What if you counted prevention? What if you treated your quiet integrity as essential, not incidental?
Maybe imposter syndrome isn’t asking you to become more. Maybe it’s asking you to see more. Starting with yourself.
~
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