Uncovering the Belief: “I Need to Know What to Do”

A Journey from Fear to Awareness through the Body

Two weeks ago, I stepped back onto my yoga mat and something shifted.
Not a surface-level change, but something deep. Cellular.
I didn’t know then that the movement of my body would begin to unravel a belief I didn’t even know I was holding.

In one of the sessions, my teacher guided us into handstand at the wall, with the intention to walk our legs down into wheel.
I made it into handstand, feet against the wall, and then… “stop - I can’t.”
A physical block gripped my chest, from the area of my bra strap through to the centre of my chest. I froze. I had to put my two feet back on the ground.

In my mind, a vivid image appeared: sand pouring from above my head down into my body, until it hit a wooden block that slammed shut. The flow stopped at the exact point of the tension in my chest.
There was no movement. Just a firm, silent “I can’t.”

My teacher suggested I sit in meditation to listen into what was arising. Life was full and chaotic, I didn’t find time to sit. But I kept returning to my mat.
Every day, I moved. Breathed. Stayed with whatever showed up.

A few days later, another powerful class.
Each pose brought discomfort. And again, I heard it: “I can’t.”
I would move into a pose and... then move out of the pose again. This tug-of-war of discomfort in a number of poses continued.

We had to choose an inversion pose to do - I chose a 90-degree handstand off the wall. I walked up the wall into a 90-degree handstand and wanted to lift one leg off.
My teacher came to support me, but as soon as my arms began to shake, fear surged through my belly and chest.
“I can’t,” I said aloud and came down immediately.

Tears came. Loud, full, and raw.
It wasn’t about the pose.
It was fear. The fear of life.

That moment cracked something open.
I realised how often I want to retreat or retreat when things get uncomfortable, not just on the mat, but everywhere.
I take a step forward, then pull back. A loop of fear:
“If I stay too long… something bad will happen.”

That week, I had an energy healing session.
It was as if a thick layer of emotional debris cleared away. There was more clarity.
The next day on my mat, the old “I can’t” voice was still present, but now, I could meet it with kind self-talk.
I stayed in poses a little longer. I reminded myself I was safe.
I was slowly building trust with myself.

After another class, my teacher invited me to tune into the heaviness on my shoulders.
Together, we breathed into it.
The air between us felt cold - a sensation of disconnect.
I didn’t feel safe. I didn’t feel supported.

She reminded me gently, “I’m here. You’re safe.”

As we stayed with it, the sensation moved into my left eye - the feminine side of the body, which often holds our emotional wisdom, our capacity to receive, and our intuitive truth.
There was pressure behind the eye, and my vision blurred, like a filter had come down. I could see but I couldn’t see - it was a strange sensation.
My eyes began to move side to side. Confusion rose.
A deep pain pulsed at the back of the eye.
And I stayed. I breathed. I listened.

That pain moved down, connecting to a sharp stabbing pain behind my belly button.
I carry fear in my belly.
We stayed there, breathing into it.

My teacher asked, “What age did this start?”

I felt into it.
And there she was: my four-year-old self - lost, alone, and scared.
She was in a situation where she was expected to know what to do… and she didn’t.
That moment planted the belief:

“It’s wrong not to know what to do. I must always know what to do.”

This belief has been shaping so much of how I move through life:
Stepping forward, then freezing.
Pushing, then retreating.
Believing that not knowing means failure. Or danger. Or shame.

But this is what I’m working with now, and what I now offer to others:

It’s okay not to know.
It’s okay to pause.
It’s okay to breathe into the unknown and still be enough.

When I reassured my inner 4-year-old that she was safe, something shifted.
I saw her standing in a meadow, playing with bubbles.
She was light. Joyful. Free.
As if she had been trapped, not because of the pain, but because I hadn’t listened.
Now that I had, she was dancing.

This is the work I offer my clients.

Not just to “talk through” your patterns, but to tune into the body,
To listen to the whispers beneath the surface,
To explore the images, sensations, emotions and beliefs that shape your life,
and gently let the story unfold - to make shifts, to walk in life lighter and to shine your beautiful light.  

If you’ve been feeling stuck, overwhelmed, or afraid to take your next step,
Know this:
There’s nothing wrong with you.
There may simply be a part of you that’s still waiting to be heard.
Together, we’ll create the space for that part to come forward with breath, awareness, and compassion.

If you're ready to move from fear to awareness,
from “I don’t know what to do” to “It’s safe to be where I am,”
I’d love to walk with you.

Let’s explore what your body has been trying to tell you all along.