When I initially discuss the zone of confidence or capacity, I start with conception (with my hands far apart) and suggest several types of traumas that can occur throughout life (as my hands move closer together). I always end with, “and maybe we didn’t get enough sleep last night” (with my hands moving another step closer).

I don’t add that last part idly.

Most of us have heard that lack of sleep can affect our driving more than alcohol.  That goes for far more than just driving.

This means that we must acknowledge to ourselves that we can do less—and then require less—when we haven’t had enough sleep.

My dogger problems have persisted all week, sometimes becoming more than I can handle alone.

There have been several trips to the vet, and more to come.

But I have also had to reach out and grab onto support from trusted people in my life.

My practitioner/mentor asked me last night what it is that allows me to keep going when I have significant stress and/or consistent lack of sleep.

After thinking about it, I came up with a routine that involves taking care of my family of animals and having those dogs around.

I can’t help but notice that, if you can call those three things, two of them have been turned on their head in the last 10 days.

My resilience is shot.

And here’s something else that I always find miraculous.

Although I handed off one commitment yesterday, and felt sluggish through another appointment, two more sessions were so beautiful that I had to mention them to my practitioner during my own appointment, before sinking into mork.

This capacity we have, even when we’re not at our best, is pretty remarkable.  It takes time and lots of practice, both skill and “muscle” building.

It’s very cool that I can be tired, stressed, and concerned, yet also find a place where I am genuinely regulated in my nervous system, and can hold, guide, and support my people through their work.

In this case, it is a testament to hard work, dedication, and love for the humans I work with.

Amazing, every day things are possible, even in the challenging moments.  Sometimes those spots of brightness are what help us get through to the other side.

Over the last week, I have noticed a decrease in my capacity, which is challenging because I already struggle with diminished capacity.  But I have cut things out wherever I can, disclosed where appropriate, and required nothing else of myself.

It has meant that my dogs, my body, and my clients get the best I can give in each moment.  My best in this moment is not the best I can do another time; things have slipped, with terrible results, but I am still struggling along.

My work is a brilliant light for me.  As are my dogs.  Even when the bright spots are causing stress, they remain the kinds of things that draw me forward.