They call me sassy. It’s a name that fits. I can be something of a smart ass when I’m in the mood to be. All I need is an excuse to pop off with some witty retort. But then, that’s not the whole of me. I get to be chill sometimes. But that’s where there’s a problem.

Amelia likes to go for walks in the forest. Sometimes I do too. Especially if the outerworld is noisy or active. It keeps me from getting overwhelmed. However, I’m also used to a bit of tension, a bit of stress. That tingling in my skin, the occasionally racing heart – that’s like my realm of equilibrium.

Once we get to the forest, especially walking by the stream, things start calming down. It’s like I can’t help but relax. Maybe it’s the way the birds chirp. Or maybe it’s how the sun through the trees, both light and shade on my face, feel soothing somehow. It could also be that Pepper, my little scruffy dog, will lay in my lap the moment I sit anywhere. Amelia can be talking away about everything in general and nothing in particular, and I want doze off. 

But once I reach a certain point of calm, an alarm goes off somewhere in the back of my mind. It says calm isn’t safe. Calmness, when I lose my sense of my surroundings, could be trouble. That’s weird, because it’s totally safe in here. Our inner world is almost a paradise. Sure, there are some not-comfy places. There’s the dark part of the forest where nobody goes. There are the caves, where so many of our littles are basically hibernating. Still, those places aren’t particularly dangerous, just unpleasant. It’s like entering an area of active thunderstorms. No one has ever been struck by lightning, but the lightning definitely strikes there. As long as we keep our distance, it’s no big deal.

Amelia says I should get some EMDR or something. Maybe learn to meditate. We heard about “exposure” therapy, but the name itself steers me away from it. Amelia said I can learn to relax if I just ease into it. Like putting my toes in the water rather than jumping in with both feet. I have no problem jumping into the pool or the lake. But diving into myself seems like a less than ideal option. 

All I know is that some part of me, some deep part of me, can’t stand being too calm. It’s not always around though. I get lost in the beauty of a butterfly or flowers waving in the breeze. Why is it that I can be calm sometimes but not others? I think it’s because I’m distracted. When I focus on beauty, that makes it OK. Hmm. Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be. Instead of focusing so intently on my own calmness, and getting triggered by it, maybe I can keep focused on other things that capture my attention. 

If I succeed, maybe I can be calm and sassy. Maybe I can be relaxed and happy. 

Maybe I can finally meet more of myself in the forest.

By Rachel/Zephyr System, Zephyr’s Cosmos