When I Notice the Tension, I Come Back to Myself

One day this past week, I was going about my day and, shortly after a particular phone call had ended, I felt a sudden tension across my shoulders and a slight pull in my chest. Those who have read my writing will know that I’ve learned to attend to these sensations as soon as I can, and I recognised it immediately as a part of me asking for attention. In the distant past, I would have pushed it down or kept moving, but now I allow myself to stay with it, to feel it in my body and, which is the key, to offer gentle awareness without needing to fix it. It’s not always possible in the moment, and when it isn’t, I come back to it later.

These sensations had a familiar quality, a quiet insistence, a not-so-gentle nudge, a sense that something in me wanted to be noticed. I didn’t need to understand it fully and, in fact, sometimes there’s nothing that we can understand, and I didn’t need to solve it. I simply allowed myself to be present with it. Sometimes, just this acknowledgement is enough.

The first thing that I tend to do is place my hand on my chest quite deliberately, just to give my body that physical reassurance of presence, and I take a slow breath, letting my awareness rest on the part. I noticed how my shoulders softened just a little, how the flutter in my chest eased, and how a small shift happened in my mind. After the call, my thoughts had been rushing ahead and they began to slow down, just slightly. Not because I made them stop but because simply noticing the sensation, simply being present with it, changed the experience.

Later, as I made myself some tea, I noticed the part again as a physical sensation. It was subtler this time, a slight sinking feeling in my stomach, and a quiet humming at the back of my mind that wouldn’t go away. I didn’t need to name it, I just let my awareness rest there, softening it with some deep breaths. I thought about how often these sensations are ignored in our daily lives, a flicker in the chest, a heaviness in the shoulders, a tension in the jaw and how easily we distract ourselves from them by scrolling, playing games on our phones, making lists, moving from one task to another, dashing through our day and collapsing at the end through exhaustion. These parts, when they are subtle cues like this, are easy to ignore but are simply asking to be noticed.

I find that some sensations are easier to identify than others and this can depend on how sensitive we are to ourselves. Over the years I have developed more and more awareness of my physical presence in the world and how it really feels for me to be embodied. I do a body relaxation practice on a regular basis so that I can feel the difference between being fully relaxed and the presence of various tensions. These physical signals communicate different things for me. When I am pushing myself, I can feel my jaw tense up, a flutter in the chest can be a sign that I should pause and a heaviness in the shoulders can remind me to take some really deep breaths so that I can release the tension. When I feel tightness in my solar plexus, this is a clear sign to me of my unease. Sometimes the messages are subtler such as a slight clenching of the jaw, a tension behind the eyes, a barely noticeable sinking in the pit of your stomach. These are all invitations to pay attention.

It took practice not to miss them at first and I found that at first, once I started noticing them, that I felt critical of them. But it really helps not to criticise them, not to push them down and not to try and fix them because it’s important to simply be present. Placing a hand over the chest, taking a slow breath, and saying inwardly, ‘I see you. You are a part of me, not all of me’, can be quietly transformative. Even if it feels like it would be too small or strange a gesture, it softens the edge, eases the tension and reminds me that I am not separate from these parts of myself that are expressing themselves through my body.

Throughout the day, after the call, I kept returning to this awareness. Washing a cup, typing a sentence, pausing by the window, each ordinary action became a small moment to check in. The part was simply there, in the background, and noticing it, even briefly, changed something in the way I moved through the day. My thoughts slowed, my posture eased and my mind softened. It wasn’t dramatic but it was noticeable. As early relaxation researchers observed, when the body is truly relaxed it becomes much harder for emotional tension to take over, because the muscles, breath and nervous system are no longer held in a state of vigilance.

Sometimes, though, the part doesn’t settle. A heaviness, a flutter, a pull can remain, and I’ve learned that this is not a problem to solve. I don’t need it to disappear and I don’t need to understand it fully. What matters is staying in relationship with it by offering it space and gentle attention as part of myself. This is what the practice really looks like for me: noticing in the middle of ordinary life - walking across the room, making a note to myself, taking a breath while waiting for water to boil. Not to change what I feel, but to stay with it. And in that staying, the day softens just a little, my shoulders release, my chest eases, my mind quiets and life begins to feel slightly softer, slightly lighter and slightly easier.

I’ve noticed this practice supports me beyond the moments themselves. A brief pause to feel a tension in my body can affect the way I respond to messages, the tone of my voice in conversation and ultimately the way I hold myself as I move through my day. It doesn’t eliminate challenges, but it creates a space, a moment where I can move with curiosity rather than reaction, with care rather than force and with awareness rather than on autopilot.

So if you notice a subtle tension, a flutter, a heaviness, something inside you asking to be seen, you might try simply being present with it. Pause, place a hand on your chest or belly, breathe and acknowledge the sensation without needing to change it. Even a small recognition is enough, because what’s there doesn’t need to disappear completely. The act of noticing and of offering gentle attention is what matters.

And when I do this, even briefly, I remind myself that caring for ourselves doesn’t always require action, that sometimes it only requires presence and noticing and that this alone can make life feel a little softer, a little calmer, and help the day feel a little more bearable.