Inner work is largely solo work — and there’s a problem built into that. Alone, we can circle the same material for years and call it progress. Some thresholds can only be crossed in contact with someone else.
A wound never builds just one strategy. Some of the ones it builds are almost impossible to see — not because they’re hidden, but because they’re praised. How to find the defense you’ve been applauded for.
People ask what my process is for working through a challenge. Here, in real time, I trace a fear of being seen back to its root at age five — and take one small step through it.
Most people think of a wound as a single injury. But a childhood wound is more like a burr — it has hooks. It catches on things. Over time, what started as one injury gathers so much around it that every piece of snagged material looks like its own separate problem. Here’s how I discovered the architecture underneath my patterns — and built a session to map yours.
Every healer carries wounds. The question isn’t whether we have them — it’s whether we’ve done the honest work of turning raw material into medicine. Here’s what that actually looks like.
You can name the story — I’m too much, I’m not enough, I have to earn my place — and still find yourself living inside it the following Tuesday. That’s not a failure of insight. It’s what happens when you’re working on the surface of the story instead of what the story is protecting.