Healing is rarely the peaceful, deep breath we expect it to be. More often, it feels like an ache. When you finally start doing the hard work of mending your mental health, your body doesn’t immediately relax into a state of Zen. Instead, it tenses up. It braces for an impact that never comes.

Not so long ago, we were simply trusting the seed to crack in the cold, dormant earth of Imbolc. But as the wheel turns toward Beltane, the earth demands something different. It is the unapologetic energy of Thallo turning the hills green, and Auxo demanding that those green shoots stretch violently upward toward the sun. But stepping into that intense, rapid growth is terrifying when your body is used to surviving in extremes. For some, it is terrifying because they are used to staying small, quiet, and hidden in the dark. For others, like me, it is terrifying because stepping into authentic, anchored growth means dropping the loud, chaotic performance we used to hide in plain sight.

Lately, I have been caught in the waxing and waning of my own healing. I am wrestling with what it means to sit comfortably in my power, my breath catching every time I reach for my authentic voice. The tension locking my jaw and the tightness in my shoulders are the physical rebellion of a nervous system that remembers the difference. It knows that putting on a loud show kept me safe, and that being quiet, genuinely seen, still feels like a dangerous threat.

For a long time, my survival mechanism was loud, but it had absolutely nothing to do with healing. I was a girl shouting into the void, not because I wanted to be understood, but because I desperately needed the attention. If all eyes were on the spectacle I was creating, no one, especially me, would notice that I wasn’t doing the actual deeper work.

I kept myself in a state of relentless, chaotic motion, filling every quiet space with busyness so my mind never had a single second to process, to think, or to grow. When the noise wasn’t enough to drown out the ache, I numbed it entirely with drugs and alcohol. I performed my life for an audience, doing whatever it took to keep the spotlight on me, but the acts were hollow. I was going through the motions, demanding validation from an empty room, but my heart was never actually there.

It has taken a long time, and a lot of quiet, hard work, to reach a space of clarity where I can finally admit this to myself. Unpeeling those layers of performance is terrifying, but stepping into the fire means owning your truth, even the messy parts. Today, I am taking the step to not only accept it within myself but to admit it openly to others.

I am no longer that girl.

I am stepping out of the void, and the transition is jarring. My body tenses because standing in the light, without the crutch of constant distraction or performance, feels incredibly vulnerable. When you no longer use chaos to absorb your panic, you are forced to occupy your own space in the quiet. You have to learn to speak, not to put on a show, but because you are finally present enough to be real.

Trauma does an exceptional job of domesticating us, but those cages look entirely different depending on who is trapped inside. For many, it builds a cage of hypervigilance, compliance, and fear, convincing them that if they stay small, polite, and quiet, they will stay safe. But for others, like me, it builds a cage of relentless performance and chaos, convincing us that if we stay loud, busy, and constantly in the spotlight, we can outrun our own pain. Yet, regardless of how the cage was built, before the trauma, there was an authentic wildness. Before the instinct to shrink away, and before the desperate need to shout into the void for validation, there was a spirit that did not ask for permission to take up space, to laugh out of genuine joy, or to exist fully without needing an audience.

Beltane is the season of unearthing that uncaged spirit. The fire of this season isn’t just about forging a new version of yourself; it is about burning away the bars of the cage. Reclaiming our voice means reaching back through the timeline of our lives, taking that wild, untamed part of ourselves by the hand, and bringing her into the present. She survived the dark. Now, she gets to dance in the fire.

Healing is not a straight, triumphant line toward the sun. It is a messy, cyclical process, much like the volatile spring weather, warm, expansive days followed by sudden, biting frosts.

There are days when we feel the authentic Beltane fire in our chests, and there are days when we fall right back into our old survival instincts, whether that means shrinking into silence or, in my case, revving back up into a loud, frantic performance to drown out the ache. And that is okay. We must give grace to the wane. It is natural for the body to retreat briefly, grabbing onto its old armor to catch its breath. Reclaiming your presence is a physical act, and sometimes we need a moment to gather our energy before the next push.

A Ritual for the Beltane Fire

When the tension sets in, when you feel your body locking up in resistance to your own growth, you do not have to force yourself into a state of calm. Beltane is not about quiet meditation; it is about wild, unapologetic vitality. It is the time to physically and spiritually throw the heavy, dead wood of past trauma onto the bonfire to be transformed.

To help release the physical tension and reclaim your uncaged spirit, try this simple Beltane ritual:

• Gather the Dead Wood: Find a physical representation of the cage you are outgrowing. This could be a dried, dead branch leftover from winter, or a piece of heavy paper where you write down the fears that keep you small.
• Stoke the Flame: Light a safe fire, whether it is a bonfire outside, a flame in a small cauldron, or simply a single, thick candle. Watch the fire and recognize it as the same unapologetic, consuming energy of the season.
• Break the Void: Hold your branch or paper in your hands. Notice the tension in your jaw, your shoulders, and your grip. Take a deep, grounding breath, and speak aloud. You are no longer shouting into the void. Say it with your chest: “I release the cage that kept me small. I claim my space. I claim my wild spirit. I claim my voice.” As you speak the final words, physically snap the branch in two or tear the paper to shreds. Feel the resistance give way under your own strength. Let the somatic act of breaking it shatter the old patterns that kept you silenced.
• The Release: Throw the broken pieces into the fire. As they catch and burn, let out a deep, vocalized exhale, a heavy sigh, a low hum, or even a fierce shout. Let the physical vibration rattle the trapped tension out of your throat, watching the smoke carry the ashes of your old survival mechanisms away. If the release does not feel complete with that single breath, do not force yourself back into stillness. This is the moment to trust your untamed instincts. If the built-up energy demands motion, let it move you. Stomp your feet into the earth to shake loose the final remnants of your cage. Scream until your chest feels clear. Shake your hands, sway, or dance chaotically without worrying about what it looks like. Give your body absolute, unbridled permission to let the wildness out, and do not apologize for the space it takes to finally feel free.

Taking Up Space

The tension you are feeling is not a sign that you are failing at healing. It is simply the friction of outgrowing your shell. I am not a therapist, just someone sharing the messy reality of the path, but I have learned that this ache is proof that the work is working. Healing means thawing out, and thawing out is uncomfortable. The tension isn’t a regression; it is your body finally feeling safe enough to let the old survival energy burn away.

As we step into the fire of Beltane, let the dead wood burn away. You do not need the void to answer back anymore. You are taking up space. You are rooted, you are growing, and you are learning to sit in your own power, unapologetically wild.

For more details: https://www.collectiveinkbooks.com/moon-books/authors/kimberly-horn

A recognized and respected voice, Kim Gardner has been a practitioner of the Craft for over 30 years. Her journey has led her to become a High Priestess in the Gardnerian tradition and the Minoan Sisterhood. As a guiding light for others, she has led her own coven for over thirteen years. Kim’s commitment to the wider community is further demonstrated by her decade-long involvement with Pagan Pride, culminating in her current role on the Board of Directors for National Pagan Pride as the West Coast Regional Coordinator.