The Space Between Reaction and Response

There are moments in my work that feel heavier than they should.

A plan check comment comes in.
An email from the city.
A note from a client asking for changes.

On the surface, it’s just part of the process.
This is the work.

But the first thought that flashes through my mind isn’t technical.

It’s something quieter, and a lot more personal.

I failed again.

And I’ve started to notice… it’s not just plan check comments.

It’s anything that carries pressure.
Anything that asks me to respond, to resolve, to move something forward.

There’s a feeling that shows up underneath it all.

Not good enough.
Exposed.
Behind.

And before I can even name it, my body is already trying to move away from it.

I’ll check something else.
Open another tab.
Tell myself I’ll come back to it later.

For a long time, I thought this meant I had a discipline problem.

But I’m starting to see it differently.

Avoidance isn’t really about the task.

It’s about the feeling.

Somewhere along the way, I learned that if something feels uncomfortable… it’s better not to go there.

So my system does exactly what it was designed to do.

It protects me.

The problem is, it protects me from the very things that would move my work—and my life—forward.

What’s been shifting for me isn’t forcing myself to push through or suddenly become more disciplined.

It’s much simpler than that.

I’ve been practicing staying.

Just a little longer than I normally would.

When that email comes in…
When that comment letter feels heavy…

Instead of escaping right away, I pause.

And I ask myself:

What am I actually feeling right now?

Not what needs to get done.
Not how to fix it.

Just… what’s here?

Sometimes it’s discomfort.
Sometimes it’s frustration.
Sometimes it’s that familiar weight of not feeling like I’m enough.

And instead of running from it, I sit with it.

Not forever.
Just long enough to realize… it won’t break me.

There’s something subtle that happens in that space.

The loop starts to change.

It used to be:
trigger → feeling → escape

Now, even if only sometimes, it looks more like:
trigger → feeling → stay → then act

That middle part… that’s where everything shifts.

Because when I stay, even for a moment, I’m no longer reacting from the feeling.

I’m choosing what happens next.

There’s something else I didn’t expect.

As I’ve been learning to stay with the feeling…
my physical space started to change too.

At first, it wasn’t intentional.

I had a water jug sitting in my office, and over time, it started growing algae from the sunlight coming in. Which, honestly, is kind of amazing when you think about it… how life just finds a way.

But it meant I needed a new water cooler.

And that one small change turned into something bigger.

I had to move things around to make it fit.
Which meant shifting my desk.
Which meant rethinking the whole layout of my office.

Before, the space behind my desk was about three feet.
Just enough to sit and work.

Now it’s six and a half.

And that difference… I feel it.

I can stand up without thinking about it.
Move around.
Stretch.
Pause when something feels heavy instead of staying stuck in my chair.

What started as a practical fix became something else entirely.

It gave me room.

And I’m realizing now…

It’s a lot harder to stay with a feeling
when your environment doesn’t give you space to do it.

I used to think about space in terms of how it looked.
Or how it functioned.

But now I’m asking something different.

Does this space support how I want to feel?

Does it give me room—not just to work, but to respond differently?

In a quiet way, this is the same work.

Creating space outside
so I can create space inside.

I’m still in this process.

Some days I still avoid.
Some days I still feel that pull to escape.

But there’s a little more awareness now.
A little more space.

And a quiet reminder I come back to:

This is the process.
Not a judgment.

Sometimes the hardest part of the process…
is just being willing to feel what comes up.

Photo taken at Muir Beach, CA.
My jade bangle framing the Pacific horizon.