What we protect

Written by Rachael Skyring

Rachael Skyring is a curious woman. Committed carer. Over thinker. Sensitive feeler. Stubborn AF. Plus AuDHD (very late diagnosed). With postgraduate degrees in Astrophysics and Rocket Science, she's spent the last twenty years as mostly a Mum, the last ten honing her metaphysical quantum brain surgery skills through mindful movement and embodiment practices. Whoever you want to be, and wherever you want to go, Rachael can start you on your way. The sky's the limit. Let's begin!

22 March 2025

There are parts of ourselves we tuck away for safekeeping—our energy, our longing, our mistakes. We guard them like rare, fragile treasures because we know what it’s like to have them mishandled. Our energy? Too easily drained. Our longing? Too often dismissed as unrealistic. Our mistakes? Too painfully cataloged as proof of failure. But here’s the thing: the very things we protect are also doorways. Our energy is not just something to hoard but something to invest. Our longing is not just a wound but a pull toward something real. Our mistakes are not just scars but maps.

Protection is not wrong. It’s wise. But sometimes, what starts as shielding turns into a wall so high we forget there’s anything beyond it. What if, instead of locking everything away, we let a little light in? What if we let ourselves risk—not recklessly, not all at once, but just enough to see what happens? The edge of what we’re protecting isn’t just a boundary. It’s a threshold.

Curious Mind: Play with the idea that your energy, longing, and mistakes are investments rather than things to be hidden away. What would happen if you risked just a little—shared a tiny bit of energy where it might multiply, let yourself long for something possible, made a mistake on purpose just to see what you’d learn?

Connected Heart: Think of a time when someone shared something vulnerable with you—a truth, a hope, a failure—and it made you feel closer to them, not further away. Can you offer yourself that same grace? Let yourself be someone you trust with your own tenderness.

Creative Body: Find one small, real-world way to experiment with this. A tiny risk. If you always hesitate before speaking, say the thing. If you save your best ideas for a moment of total certainty, try one out before you feel ready. If you avoid resting because you “haven’t earned it,” take five minutes anyway and notice what happens.

Wild Mandala AuDHDventure

Your invitation to play gently outside the box

Explore the space around you, shifting from observer to participant, from shielded to connected. 

Through guided steps—releasing, looking closer, naming, sitting with, and creating—you’ll engage with your environment in a way that feels both structured and free. 

Whether you’re drawn to the edges or the center, this 60-minute audio-guided experiment is a practice in seeing beyond familiar boundaries, letting curiosity lead, and finding meaning in the unexpected.

[✨ Have a look✨]

Spark up*

An Invitation to Wonder: Think about a time you took a risk—even a tiny one—and it worked out just enough to encourage you.

What made you take the leap?

What did you gain from it?

Where might you be ready for another small step?

Gentle Encouragement for the Road: There is no moral obligation to push yourself.

You are not required to transform, grow, or take any suggestion here.

Some days, the bravest thing you can do is say no to a thing that doesn’t feel right.

And that’s powerful, too—because without real nos, you won’t feel your true yes.

Trust yourself.

Trust your timing.

And if you ever feel like peeking past the walls you’ve built, just know: you don’t have to tear them down.

A single window is enough to let the light in.

AuDHD-friendly affirmation for wild women

Your untamed curiosity, deep feeling, and creative instincts are not too much—they are exactly enough.

Many women with AuDHD in their lives love to notice patterns, follow fascination, and play with possibility.

They are conditioned to minimize their intensity, second-guess their instincts, and seek permission before leaping.

Which undermines our ability to trust our own rhythms, embrace our longings, and move with confidence toward what calls us.

Remember you can approach risk as an experiment, not a demand. A tiny yes, a small crack in the wall, is enough to let something new in.

I trust you to know what’s right for you, to set boundaries that feel safe, and to choose your own moment to step toward possibility.

Inside Wild Mandala AuDHDventure, you’ll explore what lies beyond the edges of your comfort zone—not by forcing a leap, but by playing with what’s possible. Through looking, naming, sitting with, and creating, you’ll find gentle ways to shift from shielding to connection, from holding back to opening up—one small, safe step at a time.

WHAT WE PROTECT (Drunk Bestie Edition 🍷✨)

Babe. BABE. Listen. leans in too close, definitely spilling a little drink You know how we, like, tuck parts of ourselves away like they’re some kind of sacred treasure? Our energy? Our big, ridiculous, wonderful dreams? Even our absolute trainwreck mistakes? We hoard that stuff because—ugh—we KNOW what happens when people don’t handle them right. Energy? POOF, gone. Dreams? “Too much, babe.” Mistakes? Oh, those get filed away in the Museum of Regret. But listen. LISTEN. What if—gestures wildly—the stuff we’re protecting isn’t just fragile? What if it’s actually… a freaking portal??

Like, energy isn’t just something to keep locked up—it’s an INVESTMENT. Your longing? Not a tragic little daydream, but a compass pointing you to something real. Your mistakes? BABY. They are MAPS. Protection is smart, don’t get me wrong. But sometimes, we build the wall so damn high we forget we’re the ones inside it. What if we just cracked open a tiny window? Just a peek. Just to see.

And okay, don’t panic, but Wild Mandala AuDHDventure is basically that window. A little experiment in playing outside the lines—gently, babe, I promise. Sixty minutes of structured-but-free exploration, where you look, name, sit with, and create in a space that calls to you. No pressure, just vibes. A chance to see what’s beyond the shield without, like, demolishing it with a sledgehammer.

And if you’re thinking, “Ugh, but what if I don’t wanna??” Then DON’T. grabs your face lovingly You don’t have to push yourself, okay? There’s no rule that says you have to be a brave little transformer today. Your real yes only happens when your no is legit. But if—IF—you ever feel like peeking? I’m just saying. The light is real nice through that little window.

Love you, mean it. 💖

Notes on saving energy, longing and mistakes

What we protect

Our energy reserves

Our longing

Our mistakes 

What is the protection?

That we protect.

When under siege attack.

Go on the offensive.

Protecting something precious.  valuable/vulnerable.

Unfinished.

Open wound

Its tricky because often its open because we need more connections to heal, to complete.

Seem there is nothing here that can help me

No one that can help

The mandala might be a shield, a portal.

Stillness.

Belonging

What we protect – 

energy > when cut off, or uncertain source

Longing > when it seems hopeless

Mistakes > when they seem unforgivable.

No one can help me.    Negative valance / tone

No one can help me.    Positive valence / tone

But many can help me.

Disclose a tiny bit to a distributed audience.

Of our energy

Of our longing

Of our mistakes

Like investment

Keep something in reserve.

Risk management

Saving energy for a leap – risk a little bit of energy to create some more

Saving longing for what’s unattainable – risk a little bit on something achievable

Saving mistakes for narrow veneer of perfection – risk a little on learning.

Meet at the edge.

What am I protecting for and from?

Protecting / saving

These are powerful forces, that are part of all human lives.

 

Failure: A Doorway, Not a Dead End The link between easing through failure and the natural rhythm of rest and return is about recognizing that failure isn’t a final stop—it’s part of a cycle, like the waning moon before it waxes again or winter before spring. When we see failure as a phase rather than an endpoint, we give ourselves permission to pause, recalibrate, and return with new insight. Just as nature moves through contraction and renewal, we, too, can trust that resting in the dark moments allows for eventual growth.

 

That’s such a rich and dynamic perspective—transformation not as a steady climb, but as an energy-storing process that builds toward pulse launches. That framing makes so much sense for solopreneurs, especially those in helping professions, where energy management is everything.

Would you want to explicitly explore this “energy-storing reluctance” with your guests—asking them about the moments when they held back before a big shift? It could be a powerful way to normalize the necessity of reluctance in transformation, rather than seeing it as hesitation or failure.

 

You’re circling something profound here—the interplay between nostalgia and acedia as different responses to loss and longing. Let’s untangle this.

Nostalgia and Acedia: Two Faces of Longing

At their core, both nostalgia and acedia are about loss and longing, but they engage with them differently:

  • Nostalgia: A longing toward the past, often idealized, a way of touching something lost but keeping it safe in memory. It’s a kind of yearning that looks back rather than forward.
  • Acedia: A refusal to engage—neither moving back nor forward, but sinking into indifference. It’s not just about despair; it’s about rejecting the call to care.

There’s tension in both:

  • Nostalgia has movement (a reaching toward), but it can get stuck in romanticizing the past.
  • Acedia is a refusal to move (a flight from both past and future), avoiding the work of being present.

You wrote:

“Acedia avoids the tender thread of longing.”

Yes! Acedia refuses longing itself. It does not want to ache, to yearn, to be pulled toward anything—including hope, love, or even despair.

Meanwhile, nostalgia clings to longing but directs it backward, toward what is lost. The risk of nostalgia is that it can become a refuge from the work of being present. The risk of acedia is that it refuses all refuge, all care, all movement.

The Third Thread: Longing Itself

What if neither nostalgia nor acedia is the answer?

  • What if the true movement is longing itself—not toward the past, nor away from the present, but fully embracing the ache of desire, the pull toward something more?
Collaboration begins with empathy

other posts in this seasonal series.

Envy, merit & the myth of earning worth – competition can create artificial isolation

Feeling with, not fixing – sitting in companionable uncertainty creates space for connection

I don wanna (and other hidden invitations) – welcoming resistance allows energy shift and equitable redistribution

Shame is the lie.  Let’s act like it.
– refusing the lie of shame and failure makes something challenging possible.

What failure reveals (that success hides)
– failure is deeply uncomfortable to be with, but rewards the brave.

What we protect
– energy, longing and mistakes can be thresholds to joy

 

Also, my about page

Where i try to explain where I’m coming from with this collective, collaborative idea.

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