“Yes,” I said, “I can give you a ride.”
I heard the words come out of my mouth followed immediately by a sinking feeling in my stomach.
I got up from my camp chair and started to walk away. My whole body contracted. I couldn’t get a breath.
I grabbed my friend’s arm who was with me and had witnessed the interaction.
“I have to fix this,” I said.
“I’ve been looking forward to being here all year and I’m not going to let this ruin it. Plus, it’s not fair to her. She needs to know so she can make other plans.”
“You’ve got this,” my friend said. “I believe in you. I’m here if you need me.”
I knew what I had to do.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I turned my body around and started walking back toward the woman. I felt like I was six years old again, getting up the courage to jump off the diving board in swim lessons. My stomach flip flopped and my scared young parts shouted at me to stop. But my body kept walking and before I knew it, I was standing there looking the woman in the eyes.
“You know what, I actually can’t, “ I heard the words come out of my mouth, almost like my voice had been taken over by someone else. “I’m sorry I told you yes before, but I’ve been looking forward to doing the drive to San Francisco solo after two weeks of socializing with friends and family. I really need the alone time to decompress.”
“I understand,” she said, “I could tell something felt off when you said yes.”
“Thanks for understanding. I hope you find a ride,” I told her and walked back to my friend who was cheering me on from across the meadow.
“Oh my gosh. I did it!” I said “Who even am I?!”
Up until that point, I’d spend my entire life saying “yes” when my body was clearly screaming “no!”
I’d learned to ignore my body and follow what my mind told me was the “right” thing to do. The “good” thing, the “helpful” thing, the thing that was “responsible” or “caring.”
The old me would have let the word “yes” come out of her mouth and just dealt with the aftermath. The flood of resentment for having to do something I didn’t want to do just because someone asked me, and for some reason I made their needs more important than my own.
Then of course I’d feel annoyed about it for days or weeks leading up to the thing I said yes to, and when it was time for the thing, I wouldn’t show up as my best self because she was buried under a blanket of resentment.
But this time things were different. I spent the last two years on a journey of deep healing and inner work. Of dissecting old patterns and understanding where they came from. And now that I could see the patterns and automatic responses that had been getting in my way, I knew that if I wanted to change my life, I had to actually start acting differently.
Plus there was a lot at stake.
I just drove 1,500 miles to an event I spent the entire year looking forward to.
Event? Intentional community? Retreat? Festival?
I’m never really sure what to call it. So let’s actually call it a “gathering.”
I found the gathering the previous year when I was going through a difficult time in my marriage. I needed to get away to clear my head and reconnect with myself, so when a friend told me about a week in the woods in Southern Oregon with 1,000 women, I decided, what the heck, I’m going to go.
I wasn’t quite sure what it was all about, but I knew it involved women, nature, ceremony, creativity and workshops to reconnect with the earth. And that sounded like my kind of place.
So I packed up my campervan and quickly hit the road because it started in one week.
I arrived not knowing anyone and pulled into a magical forest filled with women setting up camp to spend the next 5 days in intentional community together.
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As I looked through the trees sprinkled with hundreds of tents and fairy lights, I remember feeling so much awe that this kind of place existed and so much gratitude that I’d found it (and had the guts to travel here spontaneously and alone during a very difficult time in my life).
The week was filled with singing around the bonfire, rituals and ceremonies to honor rights of passage and letting go, naked river swims, healing ancestral trauma, dreamwork and connection with myself, the land and the other women.
I had such an amazing time that I knew I had to come back again next year and I counted down the days until I could return to this land and these women where my soul felt so at home.
I arrived the second year with friends this time, because how could I not tell my friends in Colorado about this magical place? And we were all sitting together at the opening ceremony in the meadow around the bonfire when it was time for intermission.
Yes, the opening ceremony was long, so we needed a break to pee and stretch our legs.
As people dispersed, I started talking with a woman who was sitting in front of me. She was a friend of a friend who was sitting with our group. I hadn’t met her before but like many of the women here, conversation flowed effortlessly.
We got to talking about where we traveled from and where we were going after.
I told her I was from Colorado. And that I’d spent the last week visiting family and friends in Portland before arriving here, and would be driving to San Francisco next to visit a friend from college.
“Oh, I’m from the Bay Area,” she said.
“Cool,” I replied, “it’s such a beautiful place.”
“Are you driving with anyone else?” she asked.
“Nope, just me,” I said.
“Do you have space in your car?”
“Yes, I have a campervan with one passenger seat.”
“Do you have room for luggage?”
“Yes.” I said.
“Can I get a ride with you back to San Francisco?” she asked.
Quick pause. Body clench. Stomach drop.
“Yes … I can give you a ride,” I said.
As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I knew it was a mistake.
While my 3 week road trip filled my soul, one thing I didn’t plan into my schedule was time alone to integrate, decompress, and damn, even do van chores like getting groceries and refilling my water tank.
I was really looking forward to the 7 hour drive to San Francisco when I could be in my own energy, listen to whatever music or podcast I wanted, and not have to worry about maintaining conversation with a stranger.
But every question she asked me led to a yes. So when her final question was, “can I get a ride?” How could I say no?
The only explanation for “no” at that point would have been that I simply didn’t want to, and after a lifetime of abandoning myself to make other people happy, I’d trained myself to believe that not wanting to wasn’t a good enough reason.
You know what happened from there. I went back and fixed it.
So now, let’s jump ahead to the next morning.
I woke up cuddled in my cozy bed with the crisp morning air on my face and an unfamiliar feeling flowing through my body.
It was hard to pinpoint, and maybe it’s best described by what it wasn’t.
It wasn’t guilt.
The old me would have woken up spiraling in guilt after telling this woman no.
The voices in my head would have yelled, “you’re such a bitch!” “How could you do that when someone needed your help?” “You’re supposed to be nice.”
I would have shrunken in shame and told myself I was a horrible person.
But not this time.
This time I felt energy rushing through me. I felt strong and grounded and also proud that I didn’t abandon myself.
If this made me a bitch, at least I wasn’t a resentful bitch!
Those 5 days in the woods unfolded differently than I expected. But magically and in every way that my soul needed.
It started by telling the woman “no”, which in the moment, felt like such a shitty way to start the week. And from there, nothing went as planned.
I arrived this year thinking I’d keep things light and creative. Last year was so heavy, so this year, instead of processing ancestral trauma, I wanted to weave baskets, make earrings and get pampered in the healing village.
But that’s not what happened.
Class sign ups were chaotic and I ended up in classes I didn’t expect. A Human Design class, a goddess ritual by the river with dancing and rose petals and honey, oh my! Then there was the kitchen facial workshop and the class called Selfish Bitch Embodiment (very appropriate).



But it actually isn’t the classes I want to talk about. It’s the women who led them. Out of the dozens and dozens of facilitators there, I ended up in four classes led by women who all embodied a very similar energy.
Each of them, in their own way, were like queens … goddesses who radiated warmth, strength, beauty, confidence, courage, sovereignty and grace.
Over the past couple years, after being in such a dark place through perimenopause, I’d definitely lost my goddess vibes. My confidence and self worth were at an all time low along with my belief in myself and my spark for life. Queen-like energy? Maybe 5 years ago someone would have used those words to describe me, but definitely not now. My light had shrunken so small that it could hardly be seen.
But something inside me was beginning to shift. It started by saying “no” and continued throughout the next few days by being in the presence of women who mirrored back my own light. My strength. My sovereignty.
Even though the past couple years had been really hard, one of the gifts I received was the ability to see magic in the world around me, along with a deep knowing that things are unfolding exactly as they are meant to.
And I look back on that week in the woods as an example of this. It didn’t go as I planned. And it didn’t start how I wanted it to. But it did give me exactly what I needed.
I was being called into a bigger lesson that week. A lesson in honoring my needs. Of showing up for myself. Of what it looks like and feels like to be sovereign.
Every one of those goddesses, including the woman who asked for the ride (especially the woman who asked for the ride), was meant to be my teacher. I’m so grateful to them, and I’m grateful to myself for showing up for the lessons.
Because I didn’t have to show up.
I could have said yes, given her the ride and dealt with my resentment as usual. I could have forced myself into the classes I thought I wanted to take, instead of flowing with where I was naturally being led.
I’ve worked hard to be able to see my patterns and I’ve surrendered to trusting the magic as it unfolds in life around me. But it’s still my job to meet it. To choose to do something different when the easy thing would be to stay the same.
And that week, it started with turning around, walking back toward that woman, and saying, “You know what, I actually can’t.”
Invitation to share …
Can you think of a moment when you stopped abandoning yourself?
Or a time you said yes when your body was saying no?
I don’t think I would have turned around without my friend cheering me on from across the meadow. Or found my light again without those women reflecting it back to me. So many of us learn to stop abandoning ourselves in perimenopause, and it’s so much easier with other women who get it.
Colorado friends, that’s what the Peri Portal is for. Our first circle is Tuesday, November 10th from 6:30-8:30 pm in my living room in Longmont. I’d love to have you there!
Not local? Send me a message and let me know you’d love a virtual Peri Portal. If enough of us are interested, I’ll create one!
Hey , I’m Jessie May!
At 39, perimenopause turned my life upside down and eventually became an awakening I never saw coming. Now I guide women through the whole arc of this initiation, from sitting in the void of not knowing what’s next, to finding our voices as we emerge into who we’re becoming.
I love creating spaces where we can talk about what this time feels like with people who understand. Thanks for being here, I can’t wait to get to know you!







This resonates so much. It's hard to unlearn these ingrained people-pleasing behaviors. I always tell people that just because someone knocks on your door, doesn't mean you have to open it. I'll take the guilt over the resentment. Also, the retreat sounds incredible!!
This is one of these themes that returns over and over in my life, as though I am climbing a spiral, each time seeing it from higher elevation. It has reared its head since I have decided to put my writing out there.
In doing something so unapologetically for myself--in saying "no" to hiding my writing away for fear of being vulnerable and taking up space--I suddenly see how many small, misattuned "yeses" I give throughout the day. It has shone a light.