Diary of a Curious Mind | Entry Three
I Didn’t Ask for New Neighbours
I got new neighbours today.
I’ve just watched the removal truck reverse onto the drive.
I can hear the voices of people—unknown people.
In this moment, the unknown is the problem.
It’s not exciting. It’s scary.
It represents potential threat.
Threat that I’m not in control of.
I didn’t choose this.
I didn’t ask for new neighbours.
I don’t want them.
I’m comfortable with the old ones—not close friends but friendly.
Safe.
I don’t know if I’m safe with these new people.
What’s home going to feel like now, with a new set of experiences, expectations and judgments on the other side of the garden fence?
A lot of my client work this week has been about reactions to, and impact of, change happening outside of our control.
Although this isn’t just a ‘this week’ topic—it’s one of the most common human challenges we face.
And, as often happens, what becomes most visible in client work often reflects what’s running in our own lives—either because we’re unconsciously on the lookout for it (hello reticular activating system), or we recognise it because we’re sharing a common human experience.
I don’t bring my own stories into the therapy room.
That’s not the place.
But I do use my own experience to stay present and empathically connected with the person in front of me.
Outside the therapy room, I vow to walk the walk.
I won’t ask a client to explore beneath the surface if it’s something I’m not willing to do myself.
“But I don’t want new neighbours” says the voice inside.
And with that voice comes:
Tightening in my chest.
Flutters in my stomach.
Tension in my throat and neck.
My nervous system is aroused.
My stress response is responding.
My body is communicating.
If you’ve worked with me before, you’ve probably heard me say:
“Our feelings are vehicles of information.”
“The stronger they feel, the louder their siren.”
“Acknowledge the feelings and find the information.”
Now it’s my turn.
What’s the feeling?
On first inspection, it’s anger.
“I don’t want it!”
If it could shout and stamp a foot, it would.
But is it really anger?
Or is there something else underneath?
My body communicates—the emotions have changed.
Sadness for a loss of control and comfort.
Fear that I don’t yet know if I’m safe.
In a session, I might now ask:
“How old do you feel in these feelings?”
And we’d invite the younger parts of self to speak.
For me, I know it’s Little Keila who’s communicating—Letting her wounds be offered to me.
Giving me the opportunity to meet her pain.
To respond to her.
To acknowledge.
Protect.
Empower.
This is the work.
This work takes courage.
It takes commitment.
But more than that—it takes a choice.
We have to decide to do the work.
And it takes accepting that no one else can do it for us.
Yes, my old neighbours could have stayed—
But the neighbours, the loss, and the unknown?
They’re just the triggers.
They’re not the source.
You see, it’s not about making the outside world known, safe and comfortable.
It’s about making the inner world safe, protected and empowered.
It’s about knowing that in a world where we can’t control who moves in next door, we can control how we respond to it.
There are times when we have very little control.
But we will always have choice and power—even if we have to dig deep to find it.