Part One of Two

Dedicated to every person who, despite carrying so much suffering, found the courage to defy the voices within that told them not to bother, not to hope, not to try again—and reached out for a helping hand anyway.

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Sometimes people come to therapy after years, even decades, of suffering. Sometimes they have tried so many things. They may understand their stories very well, know exactly where their wounds come from, and still find themselves caught in the same painful places.

And yet, they reach out.

I find that extraordinary.

People sometimes tell me they have no self-love. That they dislike themselves, even loathe themselves. That there is a relentless voice inside telling them they are not good enough, that nothing will ever change, that perhaps they are beyond help.

And I often remind them of something.

But you’re here.

Somewhere inside, despite all those voices, there is a part of you that made this appointment. A part that hasn’t given up. A part that is still reaching toward something better.

To me, that is an act of self-love. Perhaps even an act of defiance.

And I have enormous faith in that part.

The Faith I Bring Into the Room

I have been doing this work long enough to know that profound change is possible, even in circumstances that once seemed almost impossible to shift.

I have sat with people in places of suffering that are difficult to describe. Places so painful, so frightening, that sometimes even imagining another way of living feels impossible.

In my contemplative traditions, we call these hell realms. And I think that is exactly what they can feel like.

But here’s something I know.

I’ve seen people come out of those places.

I’ve seen people who could barely tolerate themselves begin to feel tenderness toward themselves. People who spent decades believing there was something fundamentally wrong with them begin to discover that perhaps there never was.

And I cannot tell you how extraordinary it is to witness that.

My faith comes partly from these experiences. At this point in my career, I have witnessed enough profound transformations that I carry a deep conviction about our capacity to change.

But my faith also comes from somewhere much older.

Other Timelines, Other Possibilities

My ancestral and spiritual traditions have taught me that reality is larger than what we can see in front of us. That there are other worlds, other possibilities, other timelines.

This is not something I experience merely as a beautiful metaphor. It is part of how I understand life and healing.

When I sit with someone who is suffering, I can sometimes sense another timeline in which that person is living differently. Not a perfect life, not a life without grief or difficulty, but one with less suffering, more freedom, more joy, more presence.

I don’t necessarily see those qualities in the person sitting before me at that moment.

I sense another possibility for them. And I know it deeply.

Sometimes that knowing comes easily. Other times, when the suffering is particularly daunting, holding faith is something I must consciously bring into the room.

Because I am human, too.

There are moments when accompanying someone through profound suffering is frightening. I am not standing outside those waters, offering encouragement from a comfortable distance. I am there with them, doing my best to remain present, grounded, and open to whatever we may encounter.

Sometimes faith feels like holding a small dinghy steady so it does not capsize. I hold it from both sides, with both arms, because I do not want either of us to fall into the dark, bottomless lake.

And sometimes, when they cannot yet hold faith in the possibility of change, I can hold it for them.

Chipping Away at Trauma

One of my deepest beliefs, rooted in my ancestral understanding of healing and strengthened by years of clinical experience, is that the human system naturally moves toward balance.

I believe there is wisdom in us that wants to find its way home.

Trauma can interfere with that movement.

Sometimes I describe it to my clients as a car that won’t start. The engine wants to turn over, but something keeps getting stuck. It’s glitchy. Glitchy, glitchy, glitchy.

And the person suffers.

They may believe they are fundamentally damaged, that something inside them is broken beyond repair.

But I don’t see it that way.

I see a system struggling to do something it is naturally inclined to do.

Through deep trauma work, including EMDR, Internal Family Systems (IFS/parts work), and clinical hypnosis, we begin to work with what has become stuck.

And we chip away.

I use those words all the time in my practice. Chipping away at trauma.

Because healing doesn’t always happen through one enormous breakthrough. Sometimes we process a little here, a little there. Sometimes we find a small opening where there seemed to be none.

And we don’t have to resolve every traumatic experience for meaningful change to begin.

I’ve witnessed this again and again.

As some of the burden of trauma begins to loosen, something remarkable can happen.

People start liking themselves more.

They become less ashamed of who they are. Less frightened of their own feelings. Less relentlessly critical of themselves.

They begin to trust their judgment. They become more supportive of themselves. They discover moments of peace, pleasure, even joy, where those experiences once seemed out of reach.

And here’s what I find so extraordinary.

I haven’t had to teach them how to become worthy of love.

I haven’t had to manufacture wisdom or compassion inside them.

As the trauma loosens its grip, those qualities begin to emerge.

We are not creating the Self’s wisdom. We are making room for it.

Holding Faith

Sometimes I think about how much courage it takes to come to therapy when you have already been disappointed so many times.

How difficult it must be to sit across from another person and say, perhaps not even aloud, I don’t know if anything can help me anymore.

I don’t take that lightly.

And I don’t need someone to arrive believing that everything will be all right.

I don’t even need them to believe in healing yet.

Because I’ve witnessed what can happen when we begin, gently and patiently, to chip away at the suffering that has kept someone trapped.

I’ve seen people discover possibilities they could not have imagined for themselves.

And when someone cannot yet see those possibilities, I can remember them.

I can hold that faith.

Not as a promise that the journey will be easy, or that I know exactly where it will lead.

But as a deeply held conviction that the life someone is living today does not have to be the only life available to them.

Sometimes all we need to begin is one person who can imagine another possibility alongside us.

And sometimes, that is where healing begins.

This is Part One of a two-part reflection on faith, healing, ancestral wisdom, and the medicine we carry within.

Continue with Part Two: There You Are: The Medicine You Carry Within and the Hiring of Sancho Panza.