The Trickster Within

Who Is the Trickster?

What does a magician, a spy, and me have in common? We all leverage the art of being a trickster to some degree. Honestly, I believe we all have a little bit of trickster in us.

How often have you faked it till you made it? Said positive affirmations to yourself until you finally believed them? Put on your calm, cool, and collected mask so people wouldn’t know you were having a mini-meltdown on the inside?

A woman sits contemplatively in a cozy armchair, holding a blank white mask in her hands, as soft natural light illuminates the room adorned with potted plants and a book on a nearby table.

I know I do. My ability to compartmentalize is absolutely, stupendously superb.

And you know what? It is one hell of a strong coping mechanism for many people who experience trauma. And you know what else? It freaking serves me in soooo many ways.

That’s how I managed through some of the most challenging parts of my life. That’s how I was able to work full-time, put myself through school, and have a social life all at the same time. That’s how I could still show up to work while my colleagues had no idea just how much grief I was carrying or how much my body was deteriorating.

Is it the healthiest thing in the world? Probably not.

During those times, I was likely being my own trickster, telling myself,

“You gotta do what you gotta do, boo.”

And sometimes, that coping mechanism is exactly what gets us through.

Our natural resistance to change

Our brains are wired to look for danger in our surroundings. We don’t even recognize it half the time, but our brains are constantly scanning for threats. Is there a tiger chasing us? Are we safe? What do we need to do to survive?

And sometimes, when there’s a major change in our personal lives, work lives, or health - no matter what degree of change it is - our brains can respond as though that tiger is actually chasing us.

Change can feel like a literal threat to our survival.

As a former change management consultant, I specialized in supporting individuals and organizations through change. I have a somatic therapist, a business coach, and some kicka$$ mentors. And yet, I still find myself resisting change - especially when the change is happening to me.

So, am I a fraud for struggling with the very thing I help other people navigate?

For supporting people experiencing burnout and health challenges as they navigate the immense and often unexpected changes that happen when our bodies start sounding the alarm bells, while simultaneously having my own moments of resistance?

I don’t think so.

I think it’s human.

And, ironically, I just had a mini-meltdown about all the fast-paced change I’m experiencing right now. So naturally, I had to write about it here.

A person stands by a sunlit window, contemplatively holding an ornate mask while gazing outside into a serene garden.

The Power Down

My body had a shutdown moment.

In the chronic illness community, this is often referred to as PEM, or post-exertional malaise. It’s when everyday activities become tremendously taxing on the body - sometimes so much so that your body starts rejecting basic tasks like answering a phone call, paying a bill, making yourself food, or doing the laundry. The rebuild of trust within myself after chronic illness is still something I’m practicing.

There are still moments of complete and utter terror that it will all happen again. That my body will revolt if I do too much, and I’ll end up stuck in my dark bedroom with noise-canceling headphones and an eye mask on, unable to get up and stand for the two minutes it takes to brush my teeth .

Sometimes I go from 0 to 100 in a matter of seconds. But I know myself now.

I know that what feels true in my mind may not feel true in my body. I know which somatic practices can help me reconnect with a sense of safety. I know who I can call when I need support. I know my body’s physical cues when it needs rest. And I also know what it feels like when my body is sluggish but actually needs gentle movement.

I can know all of these things about myself and still question whether I have the physical and mental capacity to show up for other people experiencing trauma, burnout, and chronic illness.

It’s a little like being a long-distance runner in the middle of a marathon. After every hill, after every curve, you expect to see the finish line. You expect the race to be almost over.

Except the finish line for “healing” doesn’t exist.

A joyful runner crosses the finish line in a vibrant marathon, surrounded by cheering spectators on a sunny day.

My logical brain knows this. My emotional brain, however, still expects that after one of these curves, I’ll finally cross the threshold of being “finished.” Someone will hand me a medal, tell me I got first place - because my perfectionist, competitive mind is still very much alive - usher me over to the massage tent, and then hand me a big ole burger and milkshake in celebration.

I’ll go home and say something like, “Wheeeewww. Glad that’s done. Sooo glad to have done that once. I’m not doing it again.”

Then I’ll move on to some gentler endeavor, like sitting on the porch, sipping my matcha, and finally reading the Lord of the Rings series I still have yet to read.

And thennnnn, once I’ve completed that series, I’ll know I can manage it all.

Yep.

That is about how illogical my brain can be sometimes.

And this is where having a somatic therapist, a business coach, and some kicka$$ mentors comes in.

Building the Team

I don’t have to do it alone.

That was the same reason my clients brought me in during my time as a change management consultant. They recognized that having someone help navigate change - at both the individual and organizational level - could make the process more manageable. Sometimes, we need someone outside of ourselves to help us see what we can’t see when we’re in the middle of it. That’s what support is for.

So, are you ready to add someone to your care team who has lived experience navigating trauma, burnout, chronic illness, and the rebuild?

I get it. I’ve been there.

And that’s why Ventana was created - to offer the community, resources, and 1:1 support I desperately needed when I was navigating the most profound changes of my life: losing my able-bodiedness and my cognitive faculties.

You don’t have to navigate every change alone.

Schedule a FREE connection call.

And if this resonates, drop a comment below. I’d love to know: What feels most challenging when you’re navigating an unexpected change?

Keep sparkling,

@Wildlywellnoelle, Founder of @_Ventana.co