Hi friends, it's Cheryl, and welcome back to Sleep Tight Relax.
Find your coziest spot tonight and settle in.
Maybe adjust your pillow just right.
Pull your blanket close.
Let everything get comfortable.
We've been learning so much with our Relax Rangers, haven't we?
Square, breathing with Bear, body scanning with Mouse, visualization with Dream Deer, muscle melting with Calm Cat.
And last time we saw Bear use all those skills together when he was nervous about his first day at forest school.
Tonight we're visiting Mindful Mouse again in that cozy library where Mouse loves to organize books and notice all the little details.
Mouse is having an afternoon with best friend Chipmunk.
They've been friends for a long time, the kind of friends who share everything and understand each other perfectly.
But sometimes in life, things change.
People move away.
Circumstances shift.
And Mouse is about to learn something really important.
That our Relax Ranger skills work for all kinds of feelings, not just worry.
Even the heavy sad feelings that come when something we love is changing.
Let's take one gentle breath together in...
Now, let's visit Mouse's library on an afternoon when everything is about to change.
Before we join Mouse in the story, let's talk about something Mouse is about to discover.
Our Relax Ranger skills work for more than just worry or trouble sleeping.
They work for all kinds of big feelings, including sadness.
Sadness feels completely different in your body than worry does.
When you're worried, it often feels buzzy and fast racing thoughts pounding heart like you have too much energy and nowhere to put it.
But sadness?
Sadness feels heavy and slow, like someone placed a weight right on your chest.
Like your arms are suddenly too tired to lift.
Like your throat gets tight when tears want to come out.
Now, it's important to know that our skills don't make sadness disappear, and that's okay.
That's not their job.
Sadness is normal and healthy.
It means we loved something or someone.
The goal isn't to push those feelings away as fast as we can.
The goal is to feel them safely, to breathe with them, to let them move through us instead of getting stuck.
Let's try something quick.
Think about a time you felt really sad.
Maybe when something changed or you had to say goodbye to someone.
Can you remember where you felt that sadness in your body?
Your chest, your throat, your shoulders?
Just notice.
That's your body's way of holding big feelings.
Now take one square breath with me, sending that breath right to wherever sadness lived.
Hold for four.
Two, three, four.
Out for four.
Two, three, four.
Hold for four.
Two, three, four.
Did you feel that?
The sadness might still be there. but breathing with it makes a little space around it.
That's what Mouse is about to discover.
Tonight, Mouse's best friend Chipmunk is moving away to another part of the forest and Mouse is going to learn that being sad is okay, that crying is okay and that all four of our foundation skills can help us move through difficult feelings instead of trying to avoid them.
Let's join Mouse now in that cozy library on the afternoon when everything changes.
Mindful Mouse is standing on his tippy toes in the library trying to reach for a book on the middle shelf.
When the door opens, And Chipmunk walks in.
But something's different.
Mouse notices immediately.
Chipmunk's ears are drooping.
Those usually bouncy steps are slow and heavy.
Mouse sets the book down carefully and turns around.
Hey, Chipmunk, you okay?
Chipmunk stops in the doorway, looking down at the floor.
Um, I need to tell you something.
Mouse's chest feels a bit heavier, just a little.
Something in Chipmunk's voice sounds wrong.
My family.
We're moving, Chipmunk says, quietly to the other side of the forest near the big oak grove.
My grandmother needs help taking care of her home, so we're going to live with her.
Chipmunk's voice gets even smaller.
We're leaving next week.
Mouse hears the words, but they don't quite make sense at first.
Moving?
Next week?
It's like the words are floating in the air, but Mouse's brain can't quite grab hold of what they mean.
But we were going to build that reading fort in the corner, Mouse says.
Remember?
Remember? with the cushions and stuff.
And we were going to start the nature journal project, pressing flowers and I know Chipmunk whispers.
And that's when Mouse feels it.
Not Worry.
Mouse knows what Worry feels like now, all buzzy and fast.
This is different.
This is heavy.
Like someone just placed a stone right in the center of Mouse's chest.
Mouse's throat gets tight.
His tiny paws feel suddenly cold.
Neither of them knows quite what to say next.
Chipmunk leaves a little while later after they've sat together quietly, and Mouse is left alone in the library.
That suddenly feels too big and too empty.
After a while, Mouse tries to go back to organizing books.
But everything feels different.
Every book reminds Mouse of something.
The adventure stories they read together.
The nature guides they used to identify forest flowers.
The joke book that made them both laugh until their stomachs hurt.
That stone in Mouse's chest gets heavier with each memory.
Mouse decides to walk.
Maybe moving will help.
Maybe being outside will make this heavy feeling lighter.
Mouse heads towards the grove where some of the animals sometimes meet, hoping to find someone who might understand.
With each step, Mouse notices how his body feels.
His little legs feel heavy. like they're moving through thick honey instead of air.
Breathing feels different, shaky and shallow, not smooth like when Mouse practices square breathing.
Mouse's eyes keep getting blurry and it takes a moment to realize those are tears trying to come out.
His small shoulders are slumped forward, curving in like they're trying to protect Mouse's heart.
Usually, Mouse notices everything on these forest walks.
The patterns of lichen on tree bark, the way mushrooms cluster in groups of three, the particular shade of green each leaf turns in afternoon light.
But today, everything looks gray, flat, like all the interesting details disappeared.
I know how to body scan, Mouse says quietly to no one.
I'm noticing everything.
The heavy chest, the tight throat, the cold paws, the tired legs.
But what am I supposed to do with all these heavy, sad feelings?
The clearing ahead is warm with late afternoon sunlight.
Calm Cat is there doing slow stretches in a patch of sun, reaching up tall, then folding forward, then arching back gently.
Cat looks up as Mouse approaches, and those keen eyes notice immediately.
Mouse's drooping whiskers, the slumped shoulders, the slow, heavy steps.
Mouse?
Mouse?
Cat stops mid-stretch and sits down.
You okay?
Mouse tries to answer, but the words get stuck in that tight throat.
Instead, tears start sliding down Mouse's face.
Chipmunk is moving away, next week, and I feel so heavy, like I can't move right.
Cat pads over and sits nearby, close enough that Mouse doesn't feel alone, but not so close that it feels crowding.
That heavy feeling is sadness, Cat says softly.
Mouse nods, wiping tears with tiny paws.
When I'm worried, I feel all buzzy and fast, like in the library that time when I couldn't find the book I needed and my thoughts were racing everywhere.
But this?
This feels like someone put weights inside me.
Like my whole body is made of stone.
Yeah, Cat says gently.
Sadness lives in our body different than worry does.
But you know what?
Our skills still work.
Not to make the sadness disappear, because sometimes sadness needs time, but to help us feel it without getting completely stuck.
Cat suggests they try muscle melting first, releasing some of the tightness that comes with sadness.
Mouse's shoulders are hunched up near his little ears and his tiny paws are clenched into fists.
Take a breath in and scrunch your shoulders up even more, Cat says.
Mouse does, and it actually hurts a little.
Now let them drop.
Let them melt down heavy and loose.
Mouse exhales and feels his shoulders drop.
There's a tiny bit of relief, not from the sadness, but from the tightness.
I still feel sad, Mouse whispers.
Good, Cat says gently.
You should, but is the tightness a little less?
Mouse nods slowly.
My shoulders don't hurt now, but my chest still feels heavy.
That heaviness might stay for a while, Cat says, and that's okay.
But let's try something you're really good at.
Body scanning.
Only this time...
We're not looking for worries, buzzy energy.
We're looking for the heavy places where sadness lives.
Mouse closes his tiny eyes and his voice comes out small and wavering as his scan begins.
My throat is really tight, like there are more tears stuck there waiting to spill out.
Mouse's whiskers droop.
My chest has that big stone feeling right in the center, heavy and achy.
A small sigh.
My belly feels upset like everything inside is unsettled.
My paws are cold and sort of numb.
And my legs?
Mouse's voice gets even quieter.
They just feel so, so tired. like I can barely hold myself up.
That's sadness, Cat says.
All those feelings are sadness living in your body.
Now, let's try square breathing, but send it right to that heavy chest.
Mouse breathes in for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four, Then again.
And again.
The stone is still there, Mouse says slowly after a few breaths.
But it feels... different.
Not lighter exactly, but like... like I can feel around it now?
Like it's not squishing everything else.
Cat smiles gently.
That's exactly right.
The sadness is still there.
It should be because you love chipmunk.
But now there's space to breathe with it.
As they sit together, Dream Deer appears on the path heading toward the library.
Deer sees Mouse's red-rimmed eyes and comes over immediately.
Mouse explains about chipmunk moving and fresh tears start sliding down.
And the worst part is, I'm scared if I think about all our good memories, I'll just cry forever.
So I'm trying not to think about them.
But then everything reminds me anyway, and it hurts even more.
Dream Deer settles down on the grass, folding those long legs gracefully.
Oh, Mouse, you know what I learned?
Memories can hurt and help at the same time.
What if you picture your favorite memory with Chipmunk, but do it while you're breathing?
That way, the memory can make you sad, but you're breathing through it.
You're not stuck in it and you're not running away from it either.
Mouse looks uncertain.
What if I just cry?
Cat says matter-of-factly.
Then you cry while breathing.
Tears are just water, Mouse.
They're not bad.
Mouse sits down slowly in the grass between Cat and Deer and starts square breathing.
In for four.
Hold for four.
Out for four.
Hold for four.
And then, carefully, Mouse lets the memory come.
The day he first met Chipmunk.
The library was new to Mouse back then and Chipmunk had bounced in all energy and excitement looking for a book about oak trees.
They'd spent the whole afternoon reading together, sharing acorns, laughing at the funny illustrations.
The sadness comes with the memory.
Tears come too.
But Mouse keeps breathing.
The memory?
It hurts, Mouse says quietly, eyes still closed.
But it also feels warm?
Like it's sad that Chipmunk is leaving, but I'm also glad we were friends.
Both feelings at once.
That's exactly right, Deer says softly.
Remembering doesn't mean staying stuck in the past.
It means honoring what was good while accepting what's changing.
Mouse opens his tiny eyes and looks at both friends sitting there in the grass.
So I can feel sad about Chipmunk leaving and grateful we were friends?
Cat nods.
You can hold both.
Your heart is big enough.
The three friends sit together for a moment in comfortable silence.
Then Cat stretches and stands.
Want to walk back to the library together?
Inside, the library feels different than it did this afternoon.
Still full of memories but somehow not quite as overwhelming.
Mouse settles into the cushioned reading nook and the sadness is still there.
But something else is there too now.
A feeling of being supported.
Less alone.
Chipmunk leaves in a week, Mouse said quietly.
I want to do something.
Not to stop being sad, but to honor our friendship somehow.
Cat's tail swishes thoughtfully.
What if you create something together?
One last special thing?
Mouse's eyes brighten just a little.
The first real spark since the news.
We could make a memory book with pictures and pressed flowers from our favorite places, stories about our adventures.
Then Chipmunk can take one to the new home and I can keep one here.
That's perfect, Deer says warmly.
And whenever I feel really sad, Mouse continues the idea growing, I can look at it while breathing.
Let myself feel the sadness and the happiness of the memories, both at the same time. purrs softly.
Now you're getting it.
The skills don't take away sadness.
They help you move through it.
Mouse gets up and pulls a blank journal from the shelf.
One with a soft green cover that feels right.
I'll ask Chipmunk to come tomorrow and we can start working on it together.
We have a whole week to make it special.
You okay if we head out?
Cat asks gently.
Or do you want company a little longer?
Mouse takes a slow breath.
In for four.
Hold for four.
Out for four.
Hold for four.
The sadness is still there.
That familiar heavy stone.
But manageable now.
I'm okay.
I think I want to start planning the memory book, figure out which stories to include, which flowers to press.
After Cat and Deer leave, Mouse sits at the library table with the green journal, open tiny paws holding a pencil.
The afternoon light is fading to evening now, soft and golden through the windows.
Mouse writes at the top of the first page, Mouse and Chipmunk's Adventures.
The tears come again, gentle ones this time, not the overwhelming wave from earlier.
Mouse lets them fall while breathing steadily.
In for four.
Hold for four.
Out for four.
Hold for four.
Sad and grateful.
Heavy and hopeful.
Missing what's changing and honoring what was.
Mouse can hold all of it.
Mouse learned something so important today.
That sadness is a feeling we can sit with, breathe with and move through safely and using our relaxed ranger skills.
You don't have to be feeling sad right now to practice this, but someday you might.
Maybe something will change or someone will move away, and you'll have these tools ready.
So for those of you who want to practice, get comfortable.
Close your eyes if that feels okay, or just let them be soft and unfocused.
Think about a time when you felt sad.
Not the biggest sadness you've ever felt, just a sad moment.
Maybe when something changed or you had to say goodbye.
Now let's scan for where sadness lives in your body.
Not worries, buzzy energy, but sadness is heavy, slow feelings.
Notice your throat.
Does it feel tight, like tears might be hiding there?
Just notice.
Notice your chest.
Does it feel heavy, weighted down, like there's a stone there?
That's a common place for sadness.
Notice your shoulders.
Are they slumped forward, curving in?
That's sadness too.
Just notice all of this.
You're not trying to fix anything.
You're just acknowledging, this is where sadness lives in my body.
Now, let's breathe right into those heavy places.
Square breathing, sending the breath to wherever sadness lives.
Breathe in for four, send breath to your heavy chest or tight throat, or wherever you found sadness.
Two, three, four.
Hold for four.
Let the breath sit with the sadness, not pushing it away.
Two, three, four.
Breathe out for four.
Release any extra tightness.
The sadness can stay if it needs to.
Two, three, four.
Hold for four.
Empty and peaceful.
Two, three, four.
One more time.
In for four.
Two, three, four.
Hold for four.
Two, three, four.
Out for four.
Two, three, four.
Hold for four.
Two, three, four.
The sadness might still be there, and that's okay.
But notice, can you feel around the sadness now?
Is there a little more space?
Can you breathe even while sadness is there?
If you want, try what most discovered.
Thinking of a happy memory while breathing.
Pick a good memory, something that makes you smile, even if it also makes you feel a little sad.
Breathe in for four.
Let the memory come.
Two, three, four.
Hold for four.
Feel the happiness.
Two, three, four.
Breathe out for four.
If sadness comes too, that's okay.
Two, three, four.
Hold for four.
Grateful and sad at the same time.
Two, three, four.
You did brave work just now.
You practiced feeling, feeling safely with your skills supporting you.
Now, Let's let everything settle.
Tonight Mouse learned that sadness is a feeling we can sit with, breathe with and move through safely.
And you practice that too.
As you drift towards sleep, let's remember what we learned together.
When I feel sad, I can notice where sadness lives in my body.
I can name it.
I can breathe with it.
Sadness isn't wrong.
It means I loved something or someone.
And love is always worth feeling.
My Relax Ranger skills help me feel my feelings safely, not make them disappear.
Body scanning shows me where emotions live.
Square breathing helps me breathe through heavy muscles.
Muscle melting releases tight places.
And visualization lets me visit happy memories with support.
So I can feel grateful and sad at the same time.
I can hold more than one feeling at once.
Sad and grateful.
Heavy and hopeful. missing someone and remembering good times.
My heart is big enough for all these feelings together.
Tomorrow, I wake up with all my tools ready.
When difficult feelings come and they will sometimes, because that's part of life I have skills to help me move through them instead of getting stuck.
I can feel my feelings safely.
I am not alone.
Let your body settle deep into your cozy spot.
Feel the breath moving in and out, soft and steady like gentle waves.
The sadness, if it's there, can rest too.
Everything can rest.
We're going to leave you now with some peaceful sounds to help you drift off to sleep.
You are calm, relaxed, and peaceful.
Good night.
Sleep tight.
