Heal What Hurts: My Healing Philosophy

There are moments in life when a word, a gesture, or a silence touches something tender inside us. Without warning, emotion rises like a wave. The breath shortens, the body tenses, the mind floods with stories. This is the moment of being triggered.

I created Heal What Hurts because I believe these moments hold a doorway. Not a doorway to suppression or avoidance, but to healing. To remembering. To coming home to ourselves.

My own journey has been shaped by years of teaching yoga, studying the body, and listening deeply to the pain that lives in people’s stories. Over time, I began to see a pattern. Beneath our outward lives, beneath even our thoughts, there is a language spoken by the body. A wisdom. A map.

Heal What Hurts is the process I developed to help us read that map. It is grounded in the belief that our emotional pain is not a problem to be fixed but a message to be heard. The body remembers everything. When we slow down enough to listen, we begin to understand that our tension, our fatigue, our irritability, our sadness—these are not random. They are signs from a deeper intelligence within.

When we get triggered, it’s not just about what happened in the moment. It’s about what that moment touched inside of us. The stored hurt. The unmet need. The longing. In yoga philosophy, these imprints are called samskaras—the residue of past experiences that shape how we move through the world.

I don’t believe in pushing through or rising above our pain. I believe in turning toward it with presence. I believe that the body will release what it no longer needs when it feels safe, seen, and supported.

The process of Heal What Hurts is simple but powerful. We begin by noticing what is happening in the body. Where is the tension? What does the breath do? Can I stay here and feel without needing to change anything? From there, we explore. Through movement, meditation, somatic inquiry, and journaling, we begin to gently unravel the story that lives beneath the reaction.

This is not a quick fix. It is a practice. A remembering. A softening into ourselves.