Waiting in the wind
Sometimes life carries us into a space where nothing feels steady. The ground beneath us seems to shift, the paths we once knew no longer guide us, and the versions of ourselves we have relied on no longer fit. We are caught between who we were and who we are becoming, suspended in that in-between place where fear, exhaustion, and possibility swirl together.
It is a place that asks us to wait without rushing, to breathe without resisting, and to trust without seeing the landing. I have been in that space, and I know what it feels like to be carried by the wind, unsure where you will land, unsure what parts of yourself will remain when you do. It is a place of both vulnerability and quiet power, of sorrow and awakening.
Waiting in the wind
I wait in this place of realisation.
A tear lingers on my cheek, witness to the pain of hiding, the pain of performing, the ache of feeling both too much and not enough.
I have been too nice, too outspoken, too direct.
I have shapeshifted into many versions of myself, each one a survival, each one a shield.
I am scared of my power.
I am lonely in it.
I do not yet know the way back to myself.
The safety nets that once held me, keeping me from falling, keeping me breathing, keeping me safe, have loosened. Now the wind carries me. And I wait to land somewhere grounded, somewhere whole.
I wait.
I breathe.
I allow myself to feel the exhaustion of this in between. I allow myself to sit with it.
And in this waiting, I realise: I am not lost.
I am transforming.
I am shedding what I no longer need so that the full, unshakable me can take root.
Here, in this pause, I honor the courage it took to survive and the courage it takes to let go.
Here, I rest in the wind and trust the landing will come.
For anyone else navigating that space between who you were and who you’re becoming, it’s okay to wait. It’s okay to feel the uncertainty, the fear, the exhaustion. It’s okay to just breathe and let yourself sit with it. The wind may carry you, but it is also teaching you. And eventually, you will land, steadier, stronger, and more whole than before.
The Invisible Contracts We Carry: Breaking Free in Recovery
Have you ever felt like you were living by rules you never agreed to? As if someone handed you a contract early in life, and without noticing, you signed your name at the bottom?
In my work with clients, we sometimes call these “invisible contracts.” They are unspoken agreements that shape how we live, love, and cope.
What Are Invisible Contracts?
Invisible contracts are not written down, but they quietly guide our actions and choices. They can form in families, friendships, romantic relationships, or even society at large.
Some examples might sound familiar:
“I will always keep the peace, no matter what it costs me.”
“I have to be the strong one so no one else has to be.”
“I will give myself away so you don’t have to face your pain.”
These agreements may once have helped you survive. But over time, they can become cages, keeping you in roles that no longer serve you.
Reflection Prompt
Take a moment and consider: What agreements are you still living by that may not belong to you anymore? Where did they come from, and who wrote them?
Invisible Contracts and Addiction
For many people in recovery, invisible contracts are closely tied to substance use. You might carry a belief like:
“I have to numb myself so the family secret is never exposed.”
“I must take the blame so others don’t have to feel guilty.”
These contracts can feel unbreakable. The courage to question them can be uncomfortable, even scary. But recovery is not just about putting down substances, it’s about reclaiming your right to choose your own agreements.
Rewriting Your Contracts
What would it feel like to tear up the old contracts and write your own? You can create agreements that reflect who you truly are becoming, like:
“I agree to choose myself.”
“I agree to be honest, even when it is hard.”
“I agree to stop carrying what is not mine.”
This is not selfish. It is a reclaiming of freedom, self-respect, and agency.
Reflection Exercise
Take a notebook or your journal and answer:
Which invisible contracts are keeping me stuck?
How do these agreements show up in my daily life?
If I could write a new contract for myself today, what would it say?
Even small steps toward acknowledging and rewriting these agreements are acts of courage. You are giving yourself permission to live life on your own terms.
Remember, recovery is more than letting go of substances. It is about stepping into your own life, unburdened by invisible contracts, and choosing what truly serves you.