Bracing for Impact

My husband, a race car driver, once taught me something that has stuck with me far beyond the track.

“Loosen your grip,” he said.

It might sound counterintuitive—especially when you’re barreling down the road at 150 miles an hour. But what he meant was this: when you’re moving fast, gripping the steering wheel too tightly actually makes you less in control. You lose the feel of the car. You lose your responsiveness. The connection between your body and the machine becomes rigid, disconnected. You stop flowing with the movement.

But when your hands are loose, your body relaxed, your awareness sharp and flexible—everything changes. You can feel the tires on the pavement. You can respond to the curves. You move with the momentum instead of against it. And that’swhere real control lives.

Funny enough, it turns out that racing advice makes pretty good life advice, too.

Because when we’re scared, stressed, or unsure, most of us do the opposite.

We tighten up.
We clench.
We brace for impact.

It’s instinctual, really. A subtle tightening of the jaw, a stiffening in the shoulders, a breath that never quite reaches the bottom of our lungs. Our nervous system sends out an alert: something might go wrong. And before we know it, we’re preparing for a crash that hasn’t even happened.

We brace as a form of protection—convinced that if we stay alert enough, anxious enough, or controlled enough, we can soften whatever blow is coming. But here’s the thing:

Bracing doesn’t prevent the impact.
It just makes the ride harder.

When we’re tense, we lose flexibility—physically, emotionally, mentally. Our breath gets shallow. Our thinking narrows. We become less able to respond with clarity, and more likely to react from fear. We’re out of sync with our own instincts, our own wisdom.

And yet, this is how so many of us try to move through life—especially when things feel uncertain.

We brace when we get test results.
We brace when our plans fall apart.
We brace when the future looks blurry or the past feels too close.
We brace in relationships, in healing, in grief, in growth.

But here’s what I’ve learned: life isn’t a crash waiting to happen.

Yes, the turns will come.
The speed will change.
The road will surprise us.

But tightening our grip on life won’t stop any of it. In fact, it will rob us of our ability to truly be in it—to feel it, move with it, and respond with wisdom instead of fear.

So what do we do instead?

We learn to loosen our grip.

We breathe deeper.
We soften our shoulders.
We allow space between the stimulus and the response.
We become aware of our patterns—and gently choose a different way.

This isn’t about becoming passive or unprepared.
It’s about being present.
Connected.
Responsive instead of reactive.

It’s about realizing that control isn’t found in rigidity—it’s found in rhythm.

And when we start to live from that place, something profound happens. We stop waiting for the crash. We stop bracing for the breakdown. And we start trusting ourselves to handle the curve in the road—not by muscling through it, but by feeling our way through.

We become more creative.
More grounded.
More compassionate—with ourselves and with others.

We don’t always know what’s around the bend. But we begin to trust that we don’t have to know in order to move forward with grace.

And perhaps most importantly, we remember this:

As of this moment, you have a 100% track record of surviving everything you’ve been through.

Every loss.
Every pivot.
Every heartbreak and diagnosis and detour.
You made it. You’re here.

That’s not something to overlook. That’s something to trust.

So today, maybe you check in with yourself.

Are you gripping the wheel too tightly?
Are you bracing for something that hasn’t happened?
Are you holding your breath, waiting for the worst, instead of inviting in the best?

If so, you’re not alone.

But you are capable of shifting the energy.
Right now. Right here. With a breath.

Relax your shoulders.
Loosen your hands.
Let go of the narrative that says you must be on edge to stay in control.
The truth is—you’ll navigate life’s curves with far more ease when you’re not clenching your way through them.

Because control isn’t about force.
It’s about feeling.
Connection.
Trust.

So stay loose, friend.

Not because life won’t get wild—but because you’re built to ride the turns.
Not because there’s nothing to fear—but because fear doesn’t need to drive.

Trust the road.
Trust yourself.
And above all, trust that you are not alone out here.

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