If you're the kind of person who walks into a room and can tell
who's upset before anyone says a word, this one's for you.
Feeling that much is a gift.
It's also tiring.
So let's give you a few minutes to put some of it down.
Get comfortable, sitting or lying down.
Let your hands rest.
Close your eyes when you're ready.
Breathe in slowly through your nose...
And out through your mouth, a long, soft sigh.
Once more.
In...
And out...
letting your shoulders come down from your ears.
Now check in with how you feel right now.
Not how you think you should feel.
Just what's actually there.
Maybe there's a tightness somewhere, or some worry you can't quite place.
Pick one of those feelings, and ask it a simple question.
Is this mine?
Sometimes the answer comes right away.
Oh, that's my friend's from stress lunch.
Or, that's the tension from the office I sat in all afternoon.
And sometimes it really is yours.
That's okay too.
You don't need a perfect answer.
Just asking the question starts to make a little space.
Whatever isn't yours, you can picture handing it back, gently.
Not with blame.
Just, here, this belongs to you.
If your mind drifts off to someone else's problems while we're doing this, that's
very normal for an empath.
Just notice,
and come back to yourself.
Now let's get you rooted.
Bring your attention to the base of your spine.
Imagine a cord growing down from there.
It can be a thick tree or root, a line of warm light.
Whatever feels sturdy.
Let it drop down through the floor, through the building, into the ground below.
through Down soil and rock, deeper and deeper, until it anchors somewhere solid.
Breathe in, and feel how steady that anchor is.
Breathe out, and let anything heavy slide down the cord and into the earth.
The ground can hold it.
Again.
And out...
letting it drain away.
your heartbeat, your belly, your hands.
Your nervous system is starting to settle, like a pond going still.
Now picture a soft bubble of light forming around you.
It's thin and clear, skin like the of a soap bubble, with a faint
shimmer when the light catches it.
This bubble is clever.
Love can pass through it easily.
A friend's laugh, or a kind word from a stranger, comes right in.
Heaviness can't.
Other people's panic and bad moods just bump against the outside and roll off,
like rain on a window.
You can still see everyone.
You can still care.
You just don't have to absorb it all.
Say this to yourself, quietly.
It's okay to care and still say no.
That one can feel almost rude if you're used to saying yes to Say
everybody.
it anyway.
It gets Other easier.
people's feelings and are real,
they're not my job to fix.
I'm allowed to rest before I'm empty.
Rest inside the bubble now.
Grounded.
Nothing getting in that you didn't invite.
Before you come back,
imagine sealing the bubble with one slow breath.
In...
And out, as it settles into place.
Protected, and still open.
Now start to move.
Wiggle your fingers.
Feel your feet, and that cord still holding you to the ground.
Open your eyes whenever you're ready.
Take a look around.
Later, if you catch yourself soaking something up again, just ask.
Is this mine?
Then picture the bubble, and let the rest roll off.
I do it before walking into busy stores.
It takes about two seconds, and nobody can tell.