This blog is a contemplation on the inner parts that lead us into old, familiar holes. There are snippets of my own story, an exploration of the parts that like to push me towards the pit of burn-out, and some writing / ponder prompts for you to explore your familiar holes (fnar, fnar!). There’s a classic poem about a hole in a road, and some nuggets of advice from nature, about how to stop falling into holes. At the end, there’s an invitation for you to go out into nature and ask for whatever advice you need.

The photos were all taken on the land around Vixen Tor, Devon.

Context

(The first draft of this was written on 20th April 2026)

It’s the last day of a nourishing co-created 5-day retreat with two of my dear Devon friends, Amerie and Jess. We’ve been staying in a gorgeous converted stone barn in a luscious green pocket of Devon, at the foot of Vixen Tor. We’ve been doing whatever we need to do; writing, reading, admin, connecting, cooking, eating, walking, moving, singing, playing music, pulling tarot cards and napping. 

This was an unexpected bonus retreat that sprang up in the space where I should have been teaching my advanced fooling course, Fool Meets The World. For one reason or another (mostly because I was too busy to get the publicity out any earlier), I didn’t get enough sign-ups to run that course over Easter - so I rescheduled it for August and breathed a big breath of relief.

2026 has been VERY busy so far, with running courses, presenting at conferences, facilitating one-to-ones and holding space for various groups, and then there’s all the study and the admin and planning… 

This surprise cancellation left me with a precious 3-week gap in my diary, something I have not experienced for a long, long time. In this sacred pause, I have rested, reconnected and reflected and realised that I may* have fallen back into my old patterns of over-working my merry way to burnout.

Old Patterns

*OK, full disclosure, I have totally fallen back into my old patterns and worked my merry way to a mini-burnout. From January to March this year, I said YES TO EVERYTHING I could fit into my diary and worked 6 or 7 day weeks for three solid months. Don’t get me wrong, the work has been wonderful and I’ve loved every minute of it. But gosh, there’s been SO MUCH of it!

I’ve been doh-see-doh-ing my way from project to project, like I used to in the olden days, and it makes total sense why I would… 

Back in the autumn, I had a little heartbreak and in the aftermath, my trusty “Busy Is Best,” tribe of parts waded in to “help” me deal with it, by filling up my diary full to bursting. There is some wisdom to these parts; they’ve seen me go through heartbreak before and it wasn’t pretty. These parts know that my work brings me pleasure, focus, containment, a clear role, a clear purpose and a way of contributing to the lives of others, so that’s what my parts had me do. All the time.

As far as coping strategies go, work is not that bad, I suppose… BUT, my dear “Busy Is Best” parts hardly left me any gaps for rest, recovery, connection, fun, play, adventure or any sort of life outside of work….

It’s a cunning strategy, really - when I’m working all the time, not only do I have no time to feel my pain, I am also far too busy to meet anyone new - ensuring I will never get my heart broken again! Win win!

Writing / Ponder points

When the shit hits the fan, how do your protector parts try to keep you safe? 

How does this impact you?

What is the wisdom of these parts? How are they trying to help you? 

My BIG BURN OUT of 2022

I’ve written loads about my big burn out of 2022, so I won’t go into it too much here, but for those new to my blog, hi! In summer 2022, following a long period of grief, heartbreak and over-work, I had no choice but to take a year off. I lugged my exhausted, burned-out, grieving body to The Barn retreat centre in rural Devon, where I volunteered to help run meditation retreats for a year. 

With the support of the warm-hearted Barn community and the all-embracing, gentle land of Sharpham, time began to slow down and I was able to track my life-long patterns of over-work and burnout, with a level of curiosity and compassion I’d never really been able to access before. In the spaciousness of Barn life, I was able to hang out with the parts involved in creating these repetitive cycles and the vulnerable parts that they’d been trying to protect.

Through developing a kind-hearted relationship with these parts, healing happened, and things really started to change! Since leaving the Barn, three years ago, with a lot of support from IFS trainings, therapy, meditation, journalling and friends, I’ve been mostly managing to keep a sense of balance, for the first time in my life!

And then there was space for love. 

And then there was love. 

And then there was heartbreak. 

And then my poor little abandoned exiles got triggered; “I’m way too much for anyone! Why would anyone ever love me? I am utterly unlovable!”

And then a crowd of critics, haters, harmers and shamers rushed in to reinforce this message; “You’re right! You are an absolute piece of shit! Who the hell do you think you are, thinking someone could love you?”

And then my “Busy Is Best” parts came to the rescue, saying, “Oh no, no, no! We’re not getting into this! This only leads to pain and suffering. Let’s get you into work where you can be busy and useful and safe!”

And then I worked my way to a mini-burn out, where all I could do was cry, shake, eat and sleep for the best part of a week.

Reminds me of that poem by Portia Nelson…

There’s a Hole in My Sidewalk: An Autobiography in Five Short Chapters 

By Portia Nelson

Chapter One

I walk down the street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I fall in.

I am lost …. I am helpless.

It isn’t my fault.

It takes forever to find a way out.

Chapter Two

I walk down the street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I pretend that I don’t see it.
I
fall in again.

I can’t believe I am in this same place.

But, it isn’t my fault.

It still takes a long time to get out.



Chapter Three

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I see it is there.

I still fall in … it’s a habit … but, my eyes are open.

I know where I am.

It is my fault.

I get out immediately.

Chapter Four

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I walk around it.

Chapter Five

I walk down another street.

Writing / Ponder points

Does this sound familiar to you?

What’s your “hole” and where are you in relation to it right now?

How is that for you?

I’m right here: “I still fall in … it’s a habit … but, my eyes are open.” 

Yes, I fell in the hole again, but this time I was able to watch it play out in real time, as my parts systematically folded me back into that old, familiar pit of burnout (which incidentally is the safest place to be! No-one can hurt me when I can't get out of bed!)

Judging Parts

Of course I have parts that judge me for falling back in the hole; “Shouldn’t you know better by now? You’re supposed to be an expert on this! You shouldn’t still be falling in holes!”

Well, dear judging parts, I did! And I probably will again! These are old, old coping mechanisms that I learned from my family and have been practicing since I was a small kid. Plus I live in a culture that values rampant productivity over rest and chronic individualism over collective healing and support. Patterns don’t change over night, dear parts. I know you're trying to help me stay on the straight and narrow, but life doesn't always move in neat, straight lines. It's just a slip and I’m OK.

Writing / Ponder points

Do you have parts that judge you in relation to your repetitive patterns? 

What do they say to you?

What do you want to say to them?

Recovery

After the week convalescing in bed, I connected with friends in Bristol for gentle strolls and hearty chats, I travelled to France to reconnect with my dad and step-mum and rest and read and play music and go for slow cycle rides, and then I came here to Devon, to write, play, rest and wander around in nature with two lovely friends. 

Through these weeks, I've worked through a brilliant self-help book, called Healing After A Breakup (highly recommended!), which was written by my lovely friend, The Authentic Self Psychologist who I met at the Somatic IFS training last April. 

I've spent time tending to all my parts; my exiles, my "Busy Is Best" tribe and my haters, harmers, shamers and blamers. I've been making space for them all to express their feelings and hopes and fears.

Healing has happened, I have recovered from my mini-burnout and I’m ready to re-enter the world.

I am so grateful for this time off and I REALLY want to keep a sense of this spaciousness and balance I’ve re-discovered over these weeks. But how?

Advice from nature

Yesterday, I packed my red rucksack with snacks, a flask of tea and my trusty journal and pen, and stepped out onto the vibrant, mossy, craggy green land, eyes soft, heart open, in search of advice from nature…

How do I change my patterns?

River said: Just let go!
It’s inevitable!
At some point,
You won’t be able to hold on.
No effort is required,
Just trust the flow
and let go!

Moss said: Soften sweetie, soften.
Come sit and rest with me.
Life can flourish
in the harshest of environments,
All you need is shelter,
sun, rain and a tiny bit of soil.
Oh, and time.

Bluebell said: You don’t need to change!
You’re beautiful just as you are!
You just need to find the others.
Look up,
They’re all around!

The Wild Ponies said: What’s the problem?
You’ve got legs!
Go where the grass
is sweeter and greener.
What’s stopping you?

The Big View said: Space and perspective, dear one.
See this moment in the context of your life,
See your life in the context of your ancestors,
See your ancestors in the context of all humanity.
This is a moment.
It will pass.

How to ask nature for advice

If you’d like to receive some advice from nature, here’s how:

1.) Put yourself in nature 

It doesn’t matter if it’s big wild nature or a little city park - just find some nature and put yourself in it. 

2.) Take some time to ground yourself

Let nature help you arrive by tuning into your senses. Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. Notice your body in contact with the ground, notice the breeze, sun or rain on your skin, notice sounds, smells, the taste in your mouth…

3.) Find a question

You could journal for a bit to find out what’s bubbling away inside or you might already have a clear question in mind…Go for an open question (ie How do I change my patterns?), rather than a yes/no, either/or type question (ie “Will I ever change my patterns?”) and you’ll receive more nuanced advice.

4.) Hold your question lightly and proceed

Soften your eyes, feel your feet on the ground, breathe a few deep belly breaths and walk slowly until something beckons you in.

5.) Don’t rush nature!

Once you’ve found yourself being called in by a tree or a rock or a flower or whatever, take your time. Get comfy, soften your eyes, soften your jaw, relax your shoulders, breathe to the bottom of your belly and be patient. Behold nature softly, trust that the answer will come.

Wishes for all beings everywhere

May all beings find balance between giving and receiving

May all beings go gently with themselves, their parts and each other.

May all beings be supported, nourished and held

Thanks for reading this blog. If it touched you, feel free to write to me at holly@hollystoppit.com

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