Lady Uppity was exhausted and didn’t fully realize just how tired she was until her head hit the pillow that first night.
She slept for hours, woke only long enough to eat some yummy fruit and toast — thanks to Lady Birdsong’s generosity and kindness — then promptly took another nap before going to bed early again.
This continued for five… maybe six days.
She lost track of time.
Lady Uppity was beginning to suspect that much of her exhaustion came not from life itself, but from the effort of wearing so many invisible suits.
Something deep inside whispered gently:
You need time to rest. Your nervous system is trying to come back into balance.
But alongside the rest came discomfort.
A mild but persistent resistance.
Old tapes hummed their relentless tune:
You should.
You should.
You should.
“Should what?” she wondered.
Lady Birdsong lovingly suggested that Lady Uppity simply relax and trust the flow.
Trust.
Hmm.
Eventually, Lady Uppity’s body began to restore itself. Her energy slowly returned. The brain fog lifted.
But still, something nagged at her like a small pup wanting attention.
Long ago, Lady Uppity gave up seeking approval in the obvious ways. She no longer twisted herself into impossible shapes just to fit inside someone else’s room. She wasn’t performing nearly as hard for applause.
But…
she still quietly checked the emotional barometer.
She noticed:
Who approved.
Who softened.
Who withdrew.
Who seemed disappointed.
Who “got” her.
Who didn’t.
And perhaps the deeper question was not:
Why do I still want approval?
But rather:
Why does disapproval still feel unsafe?
Lady Birdsong had made no demands.
In fact, she had opened both her home and heart to Lady Uppity.
Still, there was that old, familiar reflex whispering:
Be careful.
Do not take up too much space.
Do not become inconvenient.
There it was again.
Trust.
And trust changes everything.
Lady Uppity learned long ago that approval-seeking is often less about vanity and more about nervous-system survival.
Especially for sensitive women.
Especially for girls who learned early that connection could disappear if they were “too much,” “too emotional,” “too loud,” “too needy,” “too honest,” “too alive.”
Approval becomes a form of orientation.
A way of checking:
Am I still loved?
Am I still welcome here?
Am I safe?
And Lady Uppity, for all her wisdom and spiritual insight, is still human.
Still embodied.
Still carrying old weather in her cells.
Old weather that occasionally returns uninvited.
But awareness changes the story.
Younger versions of ourselves seek approval unconsciously.
Older, wiser versions catch themselves mid-reach:
Ah… there I am again.
Handing someone else the pen to my worth.
For Lady Uppity, approval often became tangled with usefulness.
If she was appreciated,
needed,
praised,
helpful,
wise,
comforting,
productive,
special…
then she could relax.
For one brief shimmering moment, she belonged.
But life is teaching her something both terrifying and liberating:
She belongs before she is useful.
Before she is admired.
Before she is understood.
Before she gets it right.
Before anyone claps.
There is enormous grief in that realization.
Because it means seeing how long she negotiated for love instead of simply resting inside it.
And perhaps this is what evolution actually looks like.
Not becoming untouchable.
Not becoming above human need.
But slowly becoming unwilling to abandon oneself in exchange for belonging.
This is the exact terrain Lady Uppity now finds herself walking:
the sacred, uncomfortable space between performing worth…
and inhabiting inherent worth.
It is quieter there.
Less dramatic.
And strangely disorienting at first.
But there is a beautiful paradox hidden inside it:
The more she approves of herself,
the less she needs approval from others—
and the more tender she becomes.
Not hardened.
Not detached.
Just… no longer willing to disappear.