Episode 1: Why Physically Removing Yourself Matters

Where Is Your Heart Today? – Conversations with Rosie Motene

Episode 1: Why Physically Removing Yourself Matters

Where is your heart today?

Sometimes breathing and boundaries  are not enough. When an environment continues to dysregulate your body, mind, and spirit, the most powerful act of self-preservation may be to leave.

In this deeply personal episode, I reflect on the difficult decision to physically remove myself from a space that no longer aligned with my values, safety, or wellbeing. We explore survival, toxic environments, the wisdom of the body, and the courage it takes to honour your non-negotiables.

Your anxiety, exhaustion, and feelings are not weaknesses, they are messages.

Sometimes stepping away isn't giving up. It's choosing yourself, protecting your peace, and creating the space to heal.

Where is your heart today?

Transcript

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Greetings beloved. Where is your heart today? Welcome to this first episode of this series. It's titled Why Physically Removing Yourself Matters. In my previous series, we explored regulating the nervous system through breath, boundaries, and creating safety. Those conversations were the beginning of understanding what it means to choose ourselves. In this series, we go a little deeper. We will be exploring what happens to our bodies, our minds, and our spirit when we remain in spaces, environments, or places that are no longer healthy for us. Breath, work, and boundaries are powerful acts of self-love, but what happens when they are no longer enough? What happens when the misalignment becomes so great it starts showing up as an illness or chronic disease, stress, or anxiety? The reality is that we cannot control what happens in public spaces or the spaces that we'll find ourselves in. That is why the tools that we use to regulate ourselves are so important. This journey is deeply personal. Some parts of my story that I will share may be triggering. And if they are, I am truly sorry. My intention is never to cause harm, but rather remind you and let you know that if any part of my story resonates with you, if any part of my story speaks to your truth or your journey, know that you are not imagining it. Know that you are not going crazy, and know that you deserve to feel safe all the time. Sometimes leaving a space or place is not a sign of weakness. Sometimes leaving is one of the greatest acts of self-respect and personal growth. We all have different reasons for staying, just the same as we all have different reasons for leaving, and so there's no single right timeline. So my story involves a place that I once loved so deeply. Unfortunately, looking back, I can see that I already recognize the misalignment much earlier than I admitted to myself. And I take full accountability for not leaving sooner or taking action then. You see, I kept pushing because that's what so many of us have been conditioned to do. I made the excuses. I felt guilty for wanting to leave because I believed and I made myself believe that leaving meant giving up on the cause. I even convinced myself at some point that sacrificing my well-being somehow made me more committed. Unfortunately, it didn't. It slowly disconnected me from myself. And without realizing it, I began numbing parts of my journey, of my existence, of my experience. I found distractions that helped me. I ignored patronizing behavior that was aimed towards me, gaslighting, the way people treated me because I was a black woman. I became so focused on surviving that I didn't even realize how much of my own agency I was giving away. Then my body began to tell the truth. One of the first signs was when I stopped drinking alcohol. You see, over a year and a half ago, um, as I was, I suppose, in the midst of my perimenopause, I realized that I no longer could drink alcohol. In fact, it rejected my body. And even before then, before I'd actively stopped, I found myself drinking less and less and less, except when I was exposed to a specific environment or specific people from that environment. And when I drank, I drank excessively. So when I stopped drinking, something unexpected happened. I began to experience what felt like hangover symptoms after interacting in this environment with specific people. And I felt these symptoms with no alcohol. So the nausea, the exhaustion, the heaviness. That is when I realized the alcohol has never been the issue. My body was simply responding to stress that I had not fully processed. Fortunately for me, the breath work helped. That kept me alive. Certain boundaries that I set myself also helped, but they weren't enough. Because I kept on having to return back to that space, enduring that environment and getting sick. Slowly I noticed something else. I stopped centering myself. Instead, I centered the opinions of people who constantly questioned my worth. I gave space in a huge spotlight to that imposter syndrome by allowing their words and their actions to make me question my knowledge, my agency, my experience, my abilities, everything that I'd built for myself over decades. Imagine that, me, a whole rosy, lowing myself to fit somebody else's limited perceptions of who they thought I was. I totally undervalued my experience, my experiences, my thoughts. I diluted my brand, I shrank my voice. Not because I lacked the ability, but because I'd spent so long trying to survive in such an unhealthy environment. I also reached out to people who shared the environment with me in period in different phases. And privately they acknowledged the toxicity and the problems. And many agreed with me behind closed doors, they shared their frustrations and they wanted change, but remained silent when the opportunity arose to speak up and bring about those changes. They relied upon me to speak up. And being the person others rely on to speak publicly while they stay silent, while they stay protected, that carries its own emotional cost. Eventually, my breaking point came. And we all have one. Mine was witnessing blatantly how a black woman was being disrespected. And so whether I witnessed that individually or in a collective, that generally is my deal breaker. The moment I witnessed it again, this time through sober eyes and a healthy body, I became physically ill. And so the signs were as clear as daylight. And then my mind took me back to years to another moment when I realized in the same space with the same people, I'd unknowingly been used to silence the pain and voice of another black woman. And my soul grieved. Then I recognized something even more painful. That this disrespect, this intentional disrespect between other black women, came from somebody, somebody of color, somebody whose own life is deeply connected to other black women. And it was that moment that I knew how dangerous the situation is. Because if an environment could normalize that level of harm, what are they capable of doing to me? And so I needed to leave. So if you're finding yourself in a similar situation, these are some of the steps that helped me. Step one. Step two, prepare yourself. Build yourself up. When you decide to leave or speak your truth, understand that there will be backlash. Of course, they're going to gaslight you and undermine you. They may even lie about you. They may even attempt to discredit your name. That is why you need to strengthen your relationship with yourself before you walk away. Return to who you knew before you entered that space. Um that help you reconnect with yourself, with your truth. Practices that protect your peace. Leather wrap. What I mean by leather wrap is toughen up your skin. Create a thick, thick skin to withhold what they throw back at you. Step three: stand in your truth. If it means correcting the narrative that they create around your name, so be it. People might see it as petty and tell you to be silent. No. You have built who you are. Protect yourself. As black and queer bodies. We know all too well how easy it is for other people to rewrite our stories, rewrite our truths. We know how quickly false narratives can be accepted as fact, especially if they come from people who hold some form of privilege. Whether it is male privilege, white privilege, wealthy privilege, whatever it is. Recently I listened to an interview by Bazorma St. John, who is a multi-award-winning marketing guru whose name has been attached to some of the world's biggest global brands. And she spoke about knowing who you are. And always, always step into a room and own your brilliance. Never apologize for speaking about your gifts and who you are. At the end of the day, people will talk anyway. So why shrink yourself to make other people feel comfortable? Step four: reignite your shine. Block people if you need to. Create distance in order to protect yourself, in order to bring yourself up. Breathe. Rest. Reconnect with the parts of yourself that existed before you enter the place of harm. Build yourself up again until their name no longer triggers you, until their name no longer fears, you no longer fear their name. One day they'll simply become part of your story rather than your present one. And then step into your power energy. Mine is my empress energy. Reclaiming my power. If you find yourself in that position, reclaim who you are, reclaim your beauty, your power, your strength, your name. And then when you're ready, forgive yourself. Not because what happened was acceptable, because now you understand the lesson. Thank you so much for listening. And until next Friday, where we will move into another episode on the same series, remember to celebrate you. Remember to cherish you. Remember to listen to where your heart is.