This goes out to all the women with no chill. For all the women who have trouble sitting still without feeling a slight tinge of anxiety creep in. For all the women who desire contentment but are overrun by their restless desires, feelings and emotions instead. For all the women who are fully aware of their lack of chill, but when the anger starts to rise up, are powerless to its will. For all the women who feel too much. For all the women who have been called chaotic. For all the women who have been called — simply. too. much. Too much, that awful moniker that seems to follow us around everywhere. And yet when someone calls us that, our chests puff up. We become indignant. Yeah, so what? I am too much. I feel a lot, I want a lot and I am passionate about life. That shouldn’t be a point of shame, should it? We throw our expectant hands out to take it back and own it like a badge of honor.

Of course, we recognize when we have gone too far. When our lack of chill has crushed peaceful moments or wilted a leisurely day into a slack line of disappointment. When our inability to relax has caused us to pick a fight with our partner all because they can’t seem to read our minds. When we just want them to be all that they are and less of it at the same time. When we want the impossible from the world around us and are unable to see the beauty lying an inch beyond our frustrations.

For all the women with no chill, I see you, I hear you, I feel you, because, clearly, I am you. We read and read and read and listen and listen and listen to brilliant minds explain all these beautiful insights in podcasts, in books, in art, in magazines, in plays. These insights we grasp onto, marvel at and find momentary solace in. “Yes! That’s it. That’s how I am,” we say. “That’s what I need to do!” We make lists, we tape mantras and powerful statements to our fridges. We set goals and try to believe in the power of intention. We do these things to feel in control. Because, if we haven’t noticed it yet, our lack of chill is in direct correlation to our seemingly endless need for control. That’s not a novel concept now is it? But despite all of our attempts at self-actualization and enlightenment, when we are face-to-face with our issues, when we are called out on our destructive ways, all we can do is feel helpless. How do we change this fundamental part of ourselves? Is it even possible? Is it necessary? I think we all know the answer.

We don’t need to throw out the baby with the bath water. But we do need to find pathways to temper our abundant, wandering and sometimes constrictive minds. We need to find ways to channel our energies that, when left stagnant for too long, begin to seep poison into the waterways around us. We need to find a community to hold us tight and keep our wilding limbs close for comfort. It’s not a pacification, but a support system that can help us feel more at home and at ease in ourselves.

For all the women with no chill, I think it’s time. Give me your hands. Hold on tight. Because we can only find peace when we take comfort in our like-minded, wise-bodied compatriots. When all of our collective lack of chill can come together and cancel each other out like subtracting two negatives to make a positive. Complicit in our ways, we let each other vent. We steep in the pent up fury and minor irritants like a steam bath. We understand the struggles and pain, no matter how inconsequential we understand they may be. And we don’t fixate on finding new ways to bend into more fluid, more chill, more zen-like pretzels of ourselves. We don’t shame our friends for their difficulties. And we never, ever, not even for a tiny second, would consider telling our peers to just calm down. No. All our pains are felt together. Together, we are able to stop our insidious practice of brushing feelings aside or under the rug. We let them out and up, to evaporate into the air around us. Exhuming ourselves and creating space inside in the process. For all the ladies with no chill, squeeze my hand harder. And put out a call to your beautiful sisters. We need each other now more than ever in this time when chill is in short supply. But also, and more importantly, for appreciation, for sisterhood, for greater consciousness, for our ability to finally find those moments when our exhales settle, still, on a respite, on a peace, on a tender moment of revolutionary quiet.