THE GARDEN GATE MEETING
It was one of those almost-perfect afternoons—sunlight slanting through the trees, birds making plans overhead, wildflowers nosing through the fence like they had somewhere to be. I’d finally exhaled. Blanket on the grass. Smoothie in hand. Brain off-duty.
But just as I started to settle into the stillness, she showed up.
Problem Solving Hanna. Clipboard. Furrowed brow. Breath short. Eyes already scanning for the next problem. She didn’t knock. Just barreled through the gate with a wave of urgency.
“We do NOT have time for this.”
She dropped a stack of papers on the blanket, fluttering like startled birds.
“Do you know what day it is? Have you seen the bills? Have you sent the pitch deck? The car’s making that noise again, and the AC is broken. You think clarity is going to come from sitting under a tree? It doesn’t work like that.”
Free Flowing Hanna, barefoot and grass-stained, didn’t flinch. She tucked a lock of windblown hair behind her ear and gestured to the open sky.
“You might want to sit.”
Problem Solving Hanna did not sit.
WHEN BOTH SIDES REFUSE TO BACK DOWN
Let me introduce you to the two voices inside me.
✨ Free Flowing Hanna She moves like a river after spring melt. Unpredictable. Full of curiosity. She finds meaning in metaphor, sees patterns in tree bark and library shelves, and believes fiercely in joy as a life skill. She doesn’t rush because she knows the most important things take time—a novel, a friendship, a movement, a life.
She whispers: “There’s time. There’s always time, if you’re moving toward what matters.”
📂 Problem Solving Hanna She is precise. Hyper-capable. A master strategist with a caffeine dependency. She drafts email funnels in her sleep and tracks budgets in color-coded spreadsheets. She is the protector of my legacy and the executor of my vision.
She insists: “We are behind. Do you know how much there is to do? You think visibility happens from sketching in a journal?”
That afternoon, I didn’t pick a side. I picked a spot on the blanket and said, “Talk.”
EACH SIDE ACCUSES THE OTHER OF SABOTAGE
Problem Solving Hanna turned, voice sharp with frustration.
“You undermine everything. Every time we start to make real progress, you disappear into daydreams. You cancel meetings to sit in the woods. You prioritize metaphors when there are deadlines. Don’t you get what’s at stake? The bills. Your reputation. The clients who are counting on you.”
Free Flowing Hanna blinked a few times, steadied herself and said:
“You act like urgency is integrity. But what you call momentum is just noise. You keep us running so fast we forget why we started. You strip the joy out of everything. You measure worth in metrics. You treat our nervous system like a machine. You forget that I am alive.”
“Oh please,” Problem Solving Hanna shot back. “You’ve always been slippery. You vanish when things get hard. You have no sense of time. You think inspiration is a plan. You don’t finish anything. You want the dream without sacrifice. You don’t get to dream your way out of responsibility.”
Silence.
And then Free Flowing Hanna whispered:
“And you want the grind without the grace. You call your panic protection, but really? You’re trying to earn our worth.”
That landed like a punch.
“Excuse me?”
“You think if we just do enough, plan enough, succeed enough—we’ll finally be allowed to rest. You think worthiness is something we have to prove. But it isn’t. It never was.”
They glared at each other across the blanket.
And then both turned to me.
“What do YOU believe?”
THE COLLAPSE BEFORE THE CLARITY
And here’s the truth: I didn’t know.
I sat between them—frozen, gutted, exposed. Because both voices had receipts.
Problem Solving Hanna had saved me before. Gotten the bills paid. Kept me sharp. Free Flowing Hanna had saved me too. Pulled me out of despair. Helped me remember what mattered.
But at that moment, I didn’t trust either one.
I stared at the grass. At my hands. My chest ached. What if I was failing at both? Too rigid to be free. Too soft to succeed. What if I was the problem—not them?
My throat tightened. A tear slipped down my cheek. “I don’t know how to do this,” I said aloud.
And in the silence that followed, something cracked open.
HARD-WON TRUTHS
They didn’t hug. They didn’t smile. But they stopped. Because in my collapse, something truer emerged. Not a solution. A surrender. And from that surrender came a phrase. A thread. A life raft.
“I’m on my way.”
Not a performance. Not a plan. A path.
Not behind. Not broken. Not giving up.
Just choosing to move forward with both hands on the wheel—and my heart still intact.
Free Flowing Hanna exhaled, her eyes full of fierce grace. Problem Solving Hanna looked away—but her shoulders softened.
They didn’t agree. But they both stayed.
MAKING PEACE A PRACTICE
This wasn’t some tidy transformation. It didn’t end with a group hug and an inspirational soundtrack.
But something shifted that day.
I began to understand that inner balance isn’t something you “hack.” It’s a relationship. Built through listening, friction, ritual, forgiveness.
And when I say “I’m on my way,” I mean:
- I will show up for my responsibilities and protect my spark.
- I will lead from love, not fear.
- I will build a life that allows room for breath and brilliance.
PURPOSE THAT NOURISHES, NOT DRAINS 🌿
Now you. What would your two parts say if you invited them to tea? What are they afraid of? What do they long for?
📖 Try this journaling practice:
- “The part of me that pushes hard feels like…”
- “The part of me that drifts wants me to remember…”
- “When I imagine both parts working together, I notice…”
It’s easy to confuse purpose with over giving, or impact with proving. But the truth is—real, soul-aligned purpose nourishes. It doesn’t drain.
That’s the core of what both Hannas were trying to express. Not everything that looks purposeful is regenerative. And not everything that feeds us is slow. We need clarity about what fills us up vs. what depletes us.
Here’s a visual I created to explore this distinction:
I still get caught in the trap sometimes—especially “rest leadership” vs. “hustle culture.” That one’s personal. There are days I want to rest. But the voice of urgency tells me rest is lazy, or indulgent. Like I should earn it.
But the truth? Rest is leadership. And exhaustion isn’t a badge of honor.
So I ask you: Which side feels like home right now? Which one feels like a trap you keep falling into?
If you’re up for it, share your own pair below. What nourishes you vs. what depletes you? I’d love to hear. 💬👇
path to impact coaching 
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