When the Rain Barrel Overflows: A Sensitive’s Guide to Wellness
There’s a rhythm to healing that isn’t linear. It moves in layers, cascades, and cycles—especially when the body becomes the messenger of trauma. Like a rain barrel collecting unseen toxins, our bodies hold the weight of what we cannot yet name. Your home can be either a beacon for safety or a prison.
The Descent: What Being Tox’d Feels Like
Eventually, your proverbial rain barrel overflows from the cascade of toxic invaders. A headache—sometimes sharp and piercing, other times dull and floaty—separates you from living in the moment. General body aches echo the weight of the world. A sore throat steals the joy from eating, and a foggy brain struggles to remember if you fed the cat today.
Exhausted, you walk on eggshells. Worse still, you’re forced to engage but too tox’d to make any coherent point, so others abandon you. In turn, you abandon yourself—the dirty dishes, even your cat.
As a result, you retreat to bed—not to rest and recuperate, but to sink slowly into depression. Shame wraps around your body, descending like the dark night. Your aloneness becomes very lonely. Your sanctuary turns into a prison.
This is what being tox’d feels like for me. What signals is your body sending you today?
The Flurry: Illusion of Recovery
On the good days, you become an overachiever—trying to make up for lost connections, searching for lost keys while dusting away long cobwebs from the ceiling. Those days pass in a flurry of activity, as if you could reclaim lost time through motion.
Meanwhile, you smile extra brightly, masking your concerns—grateful you can smile at all. You try to figure out what caused your breaking point; what tipped your rain barrel? Did the trip to the grocery and hardware stores in one day do it? Was it the lovely perfume the receptionist at the doctor’s office wore? Was it your new office chair? Or is it something else—is your home healing you?
Even so, you do your best to organize the cupboards and make plans for the next holiday while you’re still able; aware that each step is another drop in your newly emptied rain barrel.
That’s what you want to believe, anyhow. In truth, the body knows better. Your rain barrel isn’t emptied—it’s simply not overflowing at the moment. When it does—yes, when, not if—you’re too tox’d to speak in full sentences. You melt into the couch, binge-watching life slip by.
Ultimately, there are layers of trauma, a cascade of offenders, a rain barrel of toxins accumulating until the tipping point. And then you’re in bed, tox’d, wondering what caused it this time.
The Listening: What My Body Tells Me
When tox’d and depression and loneliness loom, I float around in my groggy head. Meditation becomes easier as my ADHD brain slows down in the swamp that’s become my mind. When my body slows, my higher mind steps forward and fully engages. My Ego, defeated at the moment, is set aside as the deepest parts of me listen.
What am I listening to?
My body speaks to me of the trauma it has suffered. Where is it carrying it? What emotions are trapped? What belief is my mind playing on repeat that no longer serves me (if it ever did)? How can I mother myself right now to add to my wellness? How have my choices affected me?
The Resistance: What I Hide From Myself
At times, the answers come easily. Other times, I create resistance. Yes, I create resistance. I put up a wall and refuse to see it. I stick it into a box and place it in a closet in my mind where I conveniently forget that I put it there—just like IRL.
But don’t worry, eventually a door forms to get past the wall. Or it pops open and the closet contents spill out like the cascade of chemical toxins bombarding me daily.
The Dream: Piggies and Shame
Once, I had a dream. I was carrying a backpack that kept getting heavier and heavier. Eventually, I slipped the strap off my shoulders to relieve the pain in my neck. But the weight caused me to lose my grip, and the bag scattered its contents across the floor.
As my shock-filled eyes focused—now in a lucid state—I recognized each of the items on the floor as little pigs. Some were tiny, some larger, but none bigger than a grapefruit. They were adorable but very unhappy, squealing loud enough for everyone to hear. I was mortified. I felt embarrassment and shame. I felt very vulnerable.
When I asked, “What is this?” a voice warned me: “Be careful which ones you choose to carry again.” I woke as I squatted down to take a better look at which ones I would choose.
At first, I didn’t know what each pig represented, but they were mine. And in that moment, I realized I had a choice. Drowning in my rain barrel, I had no sense of who to ask for help.
For me, that dream taught me that I was carrying the weight of shame and embarrassment over my perceived weaknesses. I was drowning in my rain barrel but had no sense of who to ask for help.
It was at this moment that Intuitive Interiors was conceived—not just as a design practice, but as a sanctuary-building mission. I became the help I needed, so I could help others create spaces that heal.
The Knowing: What I’ve Learned About Sensitivity
Choosing to face the clutter and the junk—inside and out—is where I started. Not just with my eyes, but with my whole being. It’s been a long journey to move from guilt, embarrassment, and shame about the areas in my life where I need more support to being the support I needed. And to truly believe that I am worth it—and so are you.
It was in this space of deep listening—where clutter met clarity—that Intuitive Interiors was born. Not just as a design practice, but as a healing response. I became the help I needed, so I could help others create spaces that support their wellness, honor their sensitivity, and reflect their worth.
The Beginning: One Moment; One Choice
It’s always a work in progress. Pause with me. Say aloud:
“I breathe in regenerative, fresh air. I fill my lungs and heart with love from Earth. I exhale and release what no longer serves my highest good.” Repeat three times. Notice what softens.
This is what I know now. There are many causal layers. I am a chemically intolerant individual who has become a hypersensitive person. I attune to my physical environment to protect myself from unseen toxic invaders.
Because of this, I feel the emotional impact as my fight-or-flight mechanism kicks in when I fear I’m becoming tox’d. I advocate for myself to protect my proverbial rain barrel from the cascade of toxic overload that steals my life.
The Invitation: Support, Community & Knowledge
There are many of us out there. Maybe you know someone like me. Maybe it’s you. Sensitivity isn’t a flaw—it’s a form of wisdom. And when we gather in support, community, and shared knowledge, we begin to heal. We are the 21st century canaries: attuned, sovereign, and brave enough to listen to our bodies before they scream.
Your home holds stories—some healing, some heavy. If you’re ready to rewrite them, I’d be honored to guide you. Intuitive Interiors is here to help you create a space that feels like a sanctuary, because you deserve to feel safe, seen, and sovereign.
If this resonates, I invite you to explore my offerings or reach out for a wellness consultation. Let’s create a space that supports your healing.
