I've found myself increasingly frustrated by how many people I love dismiss this work without even trying it. They come to me overwhelmed, dysregulated, and spiraling—panicking about one thing or another. And when I gently offer a simple 10-minute reset to help clear their minds so we can actually address the issue, the responses are almost always the same: “Maybe later.” “Not right now.” “Send me the video—I’ll do it after/when _____.” And yet… they stay in the spiral. For hours. Days. Sometimes weeks. Repeating the same stories, circling the same pain despite any guidance, redirection, or grounding I offer. And somewhere in that loop, there’s this unspoken expectation that I’ll sit there with them in it—that I’ll co-hold the chaos without them ever reaching for the rope I’m offering. 🫂✨ And to be clear, that “rope” isn’t just breathwork. It’s anything I offer to help shift them from crisis into something more grounded, more manageable, more clear—a pause, one slow breath, a reframe, a next step, a moment of perspective. They come to me seeking coaching, help, and healing, (for FREE, knowing that it is how i make my living) and then refuse anything that might actually move them out of the spiral. Instead, they stay… and expect me to stay with them. And that’s where something in me has started to shift. 💞🌌 Because I know how powerful this work is. I’ve lived it. I’ve breathed it. I’ve watched it create space where there was once only overwhelm. So to see it consistently resisted—rejected—by people I care about has been painful. Not because they don’t choose it. But because they come begging for relief… while refusing the doorway to it. And I’m starting to see more clearly: some people aren’t actually seeking change. They’re seeking commiseration. Co-dysregulation. A place to stay exactly where they are—just not alone in it. And that’s an energy I no longer feel attached to. 🪷✨ I’ve spent time reflecting on why this triggers me so deeply, but I haven’t landed on any big “aha.” What I have noticed is something quieter, more honest—I’m outgrowing the version of me who felt responsible for carrying others through their storms, especially when they won’t even take a step toward shore.