"But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world . . ." – The Little Prince
The biggest block to healing is judging yourself for where you are now, who you are now vs. where you want to be and who you think you should be. This is always a form of, “I will love myself when…”. (“I’ll love myself when I deem myself as perfect and never make another mistake”, is really the subconscious story many of us tell ourselves. We know this because we say we have self-love, until we make a mistake and then immediately go into self-judgment and criticism.)
Of course, it’s okay to want more for yourself, to have more money, less panic attacks, feel more fulfilled, to have less problems. But the mental and emotional work is to see where we withhold love from ourselves from our current position, and allow love to enter from there. Or here, not when we get “there”.
From a spiritual perspective, to say we should be somewhere else is to deny the divine intelligence of the Universe. (Mother Earth would be just fine without humans interfering.). If you’re feeling stuck now, it’s because your soul wants you to remember how to love unconditionally and for you to know that you are always worthy of love.
This theme of acceptance (better understood as “self-acceptance” or “self-love”) vs change is perhaps the biggest paradox of therapy and healing. It’s also nearly impossible to think through (to the dismay of my “Figure It Out part”). I could only come to understand this paradox though patience as I witnessed my clients’ struggles and gently received this guidance on pup walks, realizing my own blocks to love. Hopefully this post has made a little more sense of this paradox for you.
Integration: Where do you resist your life right now? Are you injured? Do you not have the job you want or simply think you should be doing more? Are you not where you want to be financially? Are you still having mental health struggles?
Then answer some version of the question, “Why do I believe I don’t have more money?” “Why do I believe I still have anxiety?”
Is it because you don’t believe you are worthy? That you haven’t done enough? Do you believe that if you were better, or smarter, things would be better?
It is from that wounded place, that old belief, where you allow the love in.
And the moment you allow Love in, is the moment you realize it was always within.
…The unconditional, divine, free type of love we were all born with but thought we lost when our own emotions, essence, and unique gifts went unseen or uncared for. Yet it was never lost. Love can only ever be blocked from entering, but is always there, waiting for you to open yourself back up to it.
What blocks it? Often the lower mind. Our beliefs about our unworthiness and badness. The part of us that made up stories to explain why others didn’t always show us love, when we were shunned for being emotional, or simply told we were born with original sin (crazy, I know). If anything is unreal, it is those stories. Out of fear, we used our miraculous imaginations to make up nightmares rather than create dreams of Love.
Dogs (cats, cows, and all animals) can be our guides back home to Love. Their own lack of ego, their innocence, and fluffiness have the ability to break down our own barriers to Love. And the crack they put in our armor can be the gateway to allowing even more Love in, be it from other humans, our angels, our Higher Selves, and/or goD.
So the question never is “why does no one love me?” and the statement never is “I don’t like myself.” but instead “how am I blocking Love?” when that is what you are.
If we were enough, the subconscious belief is that we would always be loved (our parents wouldn’t have denied OR GIVEN love for a REASON, but simply because we are lovable. The “too much” wound often comes from not being allowed, or even being shunned, for being emotional as children. What a child makes up from this is that they are not liked/or loved when they are emotional, which is synonymous with being human, and so they learn to close off this essential part of themselves to be accepted.
Personally, I didn’t quite see this until a painful situation and feeling safe enough to be a little emotional. And emotions, especially emotions that seem out of place, often lead to our subconscious wounding. The other key for me was having my subconscious reflected back to me (Which is part of the reason why our emotions are not meant to be felt in isolation. When we can share our emotional selves with a therapist and/or someone who cares about us, the stories our mind creates lose their power.). After telling ~3 trust people with “clean mirrors” (they weren’t going to mirror their own wounds back to me), kindly saying something like “It sounds like you really believe that your emotions/pain/”darkness” is too much for someone else to love you?” or gentle negations. Which was enough for me to finally see “Oh, maybe that is just a belief that I have kept thinking since childhood. Maybe it’s not true.”
While I can’t say this instantly broke the armor around my heart, it did put a crack in it. And ironically, the break in the armor has led to more bravery in sharing my emotions and myself with others, giving Love a chance.
(If you’re wanting to work through your subconscious wounds (re:deep healing), I highly recommend working with a therapist, or at least a good friend, because it’s hard to see ourselves “from the inside”. Or, if that is not your path, reflective journaling is an amazing tool, too.)
I woke up from a dream, or perhaps nightmare is the more accurate word, slightly after 12 am on May 4th.
I was in a war zone. The building we were in was no longer a building, the grey bricks only a few feet high. Sparks, debris, and shrapnel flew freely in.
My mother tried to protect me. She laid her body over mine, a small and slender child. I knew we weren’t safe. That her body, hugging mine, would simply get hit first. It was likely that we would both die. Now or later, I wasn’t sure. At the same time, I felt her love inside the shelter of her body over mine. I felt her desperation, trying to protect her daughter, me. I could tell she knew it was probably hopeless too, but she held onto that sliver of hope. And somehow in that, in her love, I felt safe.
Soldiers walked in over the bricks and through the smoke. And, while I know this is simply how my brain put this together and most likely not how it actually works, they shot at cannons to make them fire off into the distance. They didn’t look at us. Their faces remained ambivalent and frozen. I couldn’t tell if they were trying to protect us, kill us, or just didn’t care. I didn’t know whose side they were on. But that’s kind of how protecter parts work…
*While I’ll use Internal Family Systems language, archetype, identities, etc. can often be interchanged.
It’s kind of hard to see what they’re protecting. Another protector, another defense mechanism, the cynic protecting the anger, the ego, or the exile, the inner child within? I think some, at least the soldiers in my head, just forget. They forget what side they’re on and they just do the job they’ve been programmed to do.
In therapy, we say there are no bad parts. They’ve all learned how to do their job to protect an innocent part when there was no caregiver to protect them or help them feel and experience their emotions, to help the child feel loved even though they were sad, angry, or simply in pain. Even the addictions, even the suicidal thoughts… they’re just trying to protect us from more pain, trying to. make us feel better when we don’t know any other way. Every shadow side has a light side. The inner critic, a cheerleader. The judge, a compassionate leader. On the spiritual side, some teachers and texts simply teach to notice but not attach to the (unhealthy) ego and all its voices of fear. We might not be able to stop the thoughts, but we don’t have to give them our energy (power). When we practice this long enough, the voices of shame, guilt, unworthiness, and hate get quieter, giving us a chance to notice the subtle but ever-present voice of Love.
And so, to further our dream interpretation, I’ll provide a framework. I was taught dream interpretation as a graduate student at Naropa University by Katie Asmus, one of the leaders in the field of wilderness therapy and owner of the Somatic Nature Therapy Institute. She taught me and my cohort that in dreams, a part of us is represented in each person, animal, or even object that stands out. In this view, dreams are symbolic, offering us views into parts of ourselves that are often subconscious in everyday life. I also believe that in dreams, especially nightmares, our psyches are actually helping us play out and process fears so we don’t have to in waking hours. I will add that, even though it’s often hard for me to see, I’ve heard from multiple people that I am often guarded and protective. I rarely see how my fears play out (the voice of it can sound very rational) until after everything (ie, a relationship) has been destroyed.
During the dream, I felt most of my presence in the little girl. My innocence, my unbridled love and joy for the world and other people, was being threatened. And yet…
Stepping into the role of mother, I feel (moving into first person here) a deep, fierce love for the child curled under me. Yet I am also human, so I try to regulate my nervous system, hoping my child doesn’t feel my fear. I know she is a sensitive child, so even if she feels my fear, let her know that she is loved… A sacrificial love, willing to do anything to keep the innocent child alive. But even if we both die, she must know that she is loved. And that will be all that matters.
The soldiers I have, in part, already examined. Yet stepping into their shoes, I feel lifeless. I’m just doing what I’m told, having forgotten what I’m fighting for. I gently sense the presence of the mother and little girl, but I try not to see them. It might make me crack. So I fire bombs. Bombs at other men, who are most likely just like me. I am hopeless. I don’t care if I get hit anymore or die in this war. I’m tired. I just want the war to end.
The cannons and bombs, perhaps, represent my anger. The anger that I actually rarely feel, besides the shame and self-loathing I feel for myself. Maybe I should let it out a little more. Maybe I should defend the little girl. She doesn’t deserve to live in a gray world full of shadows. Blowing things up might not be the answer, but fighting for Love? I’m not sure exactly what that means. How do you fight for Love with Love? Without killing and without dying? But maybe, maybe there is a way…
Ah, I won’t let the darkness of the mind kill the light within.I will protect her from the voices of fear and attack thoughts in her head.This is the Mother’s role.
The almost non-existent building… God, I hope this is my mind. My ego. The structure I’ve created around myself is crumbling. It’s never really protected me anyway. It’s never kept the fear or sadness out. It’s really only made me hate myself and be scared of the world I walk in, the world I’ve made. The walls were always a false sense of protection anyway.
Now that I look back…
The mother and daughter…the fierce loving protector and the innocent child. They are covered in dust and ash. Yet they are otherwise left untouched. But maybe it doesn’t matter, because that little girl knew she was loved. And love is the ultimate protection. She rises.
I have been on the search for freedom for nearly my whole life, intensely for the past two years, with a balanced measure of both dedication and desperation.
Yet I live in a privileged country, am of white ethnicity ,pretty enough, able-bodied, and grew up solidly middle class. I’ve also been somewhat rebellious in conforming to societal norms.
So why did I feel so trapped, like a bird in a cage? Or like the elk I saw with a fishing net trapped in his antlers? Or the cows I see trapped behind wired fences that surely aren’t there for their safety?
Last summer, I read an Instagram post that said “You can’t find freedom in the same place twice*.” I simultaneously felt a resonance with the message and with an internal “fuck.” Again I had been going to the mountains to find freedom and to my dog for happiness, with a painful Achilles heel that said “You can’t keep going to what’s outside of you to experience what’s within.” The gateways to the experiences you want to have are not the experience themselves. I had caged myself in the wide open, and trapped the being I love the most. Pacer is meant to be my teacher and the Love I am guardian of, not a need to fill what I feel I lack.
But of course, when going on any inner journey with a destination “in mind” (freedom), contrast is usually first experienced. I had to come face to face with all the things that held me down, that kept me from flying: my thoughts, my past, all my old beliefs that cause anxiety, depression, grief, and deep fear. The scariest thing about going into those depths is feeling the impossibility of getting out. It wasn’t long ago that I tearfully told a friend, “I feel so trapped.” I write about this so openly and vulnerably now because I believe this is the dark side of the human experience.
While this part of my journey isn’t quite over, I sense perhaps a shift. A shift in perception. A slight release. A willingness to see and choose differently. It’s taken journaling, meditation, shadow work, allowing life to reveal to me what’s unconscious, tracking my emotions, parts work, friends, books (rec: A Course in Miracles) an almost constant stream of positive messages through podcasts and channelers, and holding on to the belief that “only love is real.” I look forward to recounting my journey as hopefully a guide for others to become (remember) free too.
Beauty Pain: Waking up to the knowledge that life is both beautiful and fragile. It’s seeing the hate and fear, but realizing there is even greater love. It’s the awe and the tears encompassed in the breaths, the limited breaths that mark our beginning and our end, while watching a golden-pink sunset. It’s what you feel both in watching a new life enter the world and a life surrender to death. It’s the lifespan of a dog. It’s the bittersweet feeling of a holiday party full of loved ones- full of love-comes to an end. Its the overwhelming gratitude when a once met friend pays me 8x the amount my book is worth. It’s my sobs seeing god in everyone and everything, even when others do not, and the most innocent being killed. It’s forgotten love. It is the acknowledgement of feeling. It is the acceptance of being human.
So many of us spend so much time rushing and worrying that we miss the beauty of what surrounds us, be it the people, animals, or nature, only to later realize that our time on Mother Earth is limited…which makes life all the more beautiful.
It’s hard to use words to define the term “beauty pain.” Perhaps I described it better in past posts that more so provoked the feeling rather than tried to define it:
Still, I think my older sister said it best in her journal, the few words she wrote in her dying year: “Life is beautiful…even when it’s not.”
Each time I come back to this term, I come to understand what it means to be alive a little more. I come to more deeply know myself.
“What if your ability to feel pain is the most beautiful thing about you?” I scribbled in my journal.
What if?
What if my biggest weakness is actually by biggest strength… my capacity to love? It is in my heightened senses, the depth of my emotions, that makes me so human and so alive. And yet, I feel and have felt so deeply that I have tried to numb my pain and attempted to reject my humanness, claiming my want to leave this planet, with doG (Pacer) always grounding me back.
Maybe it’s because I grew up in the midwest to baby boomer parents, loving but mostly unemotional (outwardly), that I learned to deny pain, thereby rejecting myself. Showing emotions wasn’t really accepted in my family. My mom got laughed at (with me as one of the perpetrators) for crying during a movie. No one was there to tell me that my depth was my power.
Eventually, I learned to carry and hide so much that I learned to fear it, to fear my pain. Honestly, I thought it might kill me if I let myself feel it all.
Yet, maybe…
Maybe I don’t have to fear pain, because pain is just love. Maybe it’s sometimes wrapped in a cloak of fear or tinged with sadness, but it is still love. And maybe my pain, my love, is my gift to the world, because my pain carries my light. In fact, pain is a big part of the reason I chose to practice psychotherapy (what I know call “psychosoul therapy). I didn’t want others to have to feel what I felt. Now I know they both do and they don’t… They just have to accept their pain, because their pain is love and shines a light on “wrongness”, the wrongdoings created from darkness. The worst part of pain is actually resisting feeling it.
(However, I can lessen my pain. Here I realize I’ve used the word “pain” in different ways in my blog – thank you for giving me the space and grace to process and shift. Sometimes, what I mean is really “distress” or “suffering”. What has helped me a great deal is learning to check in with myself when my emotions feel heavy and then bring awareness to the thought I’m thinking. Usually, my thought is far, far away from love. Additionally, I’ve learned to “tap in, tap out”, a great skill for any empath. It’s an amazing gift to tap into someone else’s shoes, but it is neither helpful for the empath or the other person to get stuck in the other person’s energy field. Switching to compassion helps me help others.)
It is my pain that makes me mortal and it has been my fear of pain, my resistance to it, that has kept me from Love. It is Love that makes me immortal. When I resist pain, I resist both my humanity and my divinity. When I accept my pain, when I accept my beauty pain, I accept my humanity and my divinity.
If we can still love those who left us, who broke our hearts, who moved away, and who passed on, does that not prove love’s infinite existence?
The greatest act of love I have ever witnessed is watching my parents saying goodbye to their eldest daughter. My older sister had spent a long two years fighting cancer, and when it came to the point where she was clearly closer to Somewhere Else than here on earth as well as looking more peaceful than she had in weeks, they didn’t say, “You’re my daughter. You are supposed to outlive me. You have to keep fighting, because I need you.” (Let me be clear, I do not judge anyone who has said that to a loved one on their “deathbed”.) No. Instead they said. ”We love you. We don’t want you to be in pain. You don’t have to hold on anymore. You can go.” And while my sister did hang out until after my dad’s birthday (I know that was her choice) and I believe my parents, as well as my twin sister and I, releasing our attachment to her physical presence, is why she was able to pass peacefully in her sleep a night later. Letting go was an act of unconditional love.
When she died, all that was left was love.
Personally, my greatest fear (I don’t think I’ve ever admitted this before), is losing my* dog. (Well, her and my twin sister.) To be honest, I’ve never been sure I could survive it. And there is something inherently beautiful and almost innocent** in that, that my greatest fear is in losing unconditional love. Specifically, the embodied presence of unconditional love that has been almost constantly by my side for over a decade now. While I still hold onto the hope of her living to 20 (not unheard of for an Aussie), I can only free both me and her by accepting that in most cases, a dog’s lifetime is significantly shorter than their humans. (Maybe this is because dog’s are already so close to God/Love and as furry angels, are more helpers to humans wanting to evolve.) And, even though Pacer is still happy to have some big adventures with me in the mountains, I also have to admit that she prefers snuggle time and getting doted on by her aunt and uncle even more. I’m so grateful, too, because she already physically thrives beyond other pups. So, when the time comes the most loving thing I can do for Pacer is let her go back Home. Of course, if she is ever sick, I’lI do anything I can to help her heal. But I don’t want her to have to stick around because I need her and I’m lost without her. Because that wouldn’t be love on my part, that would be fear.
*Again, this word “my” is part of the problem…the possession of another being that is also not actually separate from us. **Innocence predates fear. It is love without fear. My feeling comes from more of a child who recently lost her innocence.
Could I…will I…be able to survive that? Love will always survive it.
In truth, I know energy doesn’t die… especially an energy like Pacer’s (this is the first law of energy). I know that part of Pacer’s purpose in coming to earth was to remind me of the love that always surrounds me and that is within me. I’m usually just too blind, too unwilling, to see it. I also absolutely know she will always be with me. I truly believe we’ve always been together in some way. It’s the fear and lie of absence that always gets me. That and the amount of pain I know my body is capable of feeling. Really, I’m not sure how the skin around my 5’4 frame has survived the amount of pain I’ve held on to in the past. Yet I know I can hold more love then I have yet tested, because of all the times I’ve allowed pain to break me open. All I can really do right now is keep seeing the fear and loving it, not away, but anyway… that and snuggling with Pacer.
Love is the only force that can survive death. In death, only love will remain.
*Note: Because we are human, it is essential that we love ourselves when in pain. In doing that, we can also realize that pain is an occurrence that happens when we feel separated (by our minds) from Love.
(I originally wrote this for my psych-soul counseling Insta page @wanderlustcounseling, but thought it was worth sharing here too.)
Can you love the unlovable?
Can you love the innocent, vulnerable, emotional, and soft part of you that doesn’t want to do hard things, that just wants to feel safe and loved? Can you love your inner child?
Can you love the part of you that oppresses your creativity and joy? Your inner critic, you mean coach, your Judgy McJuderson. Can you love your abuser?
For some of us, it will be harder to love the inner child, because we have deemed her weak. Or rather, the inner abuser has deemed her weak. We’ve learned that it’s better to be strong and tough in a “hard knock life” kind of world. But is it? Or is that the world we created from beliefs and stories of fear handed down to us, that creates comparison, hate, and war. That is the belief of the inner abuser (yes, I am using this word intentionally). The inner abuser lives… feeds off of fear, believing the world is not safe and that he’s gotta look out for himself. She doesnt just protect, she is protected…but not from anything bad, from everything good. That part of us that shames us, that’s literally tried to obliterate the inner child inside of us…he’s just scared. He hides behind his defenses. And yea, she’s done some things he’s not proud of. Can you forgive him? Knowing that he’s only abused, harmed, and killed out of fear? Can you see the scared child underneath the armor? The part of you that just wants to know he’s still loveable. Can you love the unlovable?
Why do we always want to tell others how they hurt us? Most of us knowing we would never get an apology, or even recognition that we have wounds. My own experience is rarely an acknowledgement of my feelings. Usually, it’s a complete lack of a response and I feel abandoned all over again.
Maybe it’s a wish things could somehow, miraculously, fantastically, work out. Maybe the hard parts could be undone, erased. Less from a feeling of sadness or anger. More from love- back to the denial of a love lost.
Even when we know its fantasy, even when we know we want to be loved differently. By someone who hears our needs and does more then speaks words, but takes appropriate action.
What to do when left with our own hurt?
Acceptance… yes, of the situation. But more so, of the fact we are still grieving.
From there, the only other answer I have found is to sit or walk with the hurt, even as it lingers. To keep showing up for myself and my pain that few others in my life ever could. To stop grasping at the clouds. To witness myself “I see your pain, and I am with you.”
Mentally and physically, I believe the intensity of my pain from the past year is behind me, but the wounds are still open, exposed. Or rather, the small tears in my Achilles heel are still-rebuilding. It’s time to cocoon, to rest, to protect the wounds- both in nature and in my healing hut. It’s time to let my wounds close.
Both physically and mentally, I’ve just been tired.
Physically, I’m tired of limping around post hike and of giving the extra mental effort to manage the discomfort. (To be clear, I am very much a proponent of listening to the body, and I did experience periods of decreasing symptoms that gave me hope. I did very little running and hiked most of the summer. When I got the MRI results in mid-August, I knew I wasn’t going to make anything worse by hiking a few more mountains, and my intuition felt good with the decision to wait to rest, as my soul needed to be above tree line). Physically, the biggest feeling I have is that, more than anything, I simply just ready to run freely and joyfully next year.
Mentally, I’m ready to be re-energized and have my open, wild heart back at full capacity. While experiencing the fullness of my emotions has been a worthwhile endeavor, doing so repeatedly over the past year because of situation I put myself in, had been nothing but exhausting. Obviously as a therapist, I’ve done a lot of inner work. I was simply unprepared for the amount of work I still had to do. I believe that a person was sent into my life, unknowingly, lovingly, and crushingly, to expose my deepest wounds. This forced me to use all my therapy tools to re-parent myself in the most nurturing and loving way possible (I am determined to be a therapist who practices what I preach). I didn’t exactly have to start from scratch- my parents truly are wonderful people- they simply didn’t know what to do with my big emotions as a kid. Which meant that, without realizing it, I had taken on many of the “tough love” practices I grew up with, and then enhanced them in not the kindest of ways.
I had to learn to feel, truly feel, all of my emotions. To show up for them. To show up for me. To learn how to self soothe. To say things to myself like “I got you. You’re okay.” “I will not abandon you.” “I love you.”
I don’t know if the hard journey I took was the only way. And I can hold no hate in my heart for the person who exposed my wounds. I believe that person’s own wounds were so deep that they didn’t even know they were running. What I do know is that once I heal from this, I’ll truly have the capacity to be the best, most stunning version of myself.
While I can feel my wounds starting to close, I also know I’m tired. As any athlete knows, the only way to re-build and recover is to rest. And the only way to heal is to give yourself the compassion and grace to do so.
Thoughts on PRP and other physical healing modalities…
I ended up choosing PRP (platelet rich plasma injection), a form of regenerative medicine, because I knew my body could use the extra boost to heal after having chronic Achilles pain for so long. I also liked the fact that it was still my own body doing the healing, and I trusted my PT who suggested it.
For most people, PRP wouldn’t be my first choice, for several reasons. One, it’s expensive. Two, it’s extremely (to say it lightly) uncomfortable. I also think there are other great modalities out there, and obviously I’ll put PT exercises at the forefront. Then there’s dry needling (one of the few alternative forms of treatment accepted by SOME insurance companies), massage, and EPAT/shockwave therapy (among others I’m not as familiar with). I actually tried shockwave in the summer, and I actually think it would have had a chance at working if it wasn’t summer and I wasn’t climbing mountains every week. Shockwave, and with some doctors PRP*, are advertised as treatments where you can return to activity as normal immediately. And aren’t those the magic words we all want to hear? Maybe its true for more minor injuries, but my opinion, from my own experience, is that its a bit of marketing scam. I mean, if your body is in pain, doesn’t it make sense to just rest for at least a little bit? With that, I think PRP and the field of regenerative medicine is pretty cool and promising.
*My PT doc said that when I got PRP, I would absolutely have to take time off, and this is largely what I had read. I was more than a little surprised when the doctor performing the PRP said I could return to activity right away…especially when I’ve barely been able to run anyway. While I really liked by that doctor and trusted her to do the PRP, I think the center I went to was a little overly liberal in their treatment approaches (my sister actually received a cortisone shot in her Achilles years earlier by one of the other doctors there, which really isn’t a best practice for an Achilles tendon as it can cause further damage). I’ll just round this paragraph out by saying that its extremely important to me to have a team around me that is caring, listens, and are trustworthy. At this point in my life I’ve learned to say no when I disagree with someone’s opinion. With that, I got the PRP, and I’m 100% going to take the month plus off that I 100% know my body needs to heal and then return to running very slowly.
My final note here is that we all have our own healing journeys. There are many paths to choose from, and whatever we choose, it will be the best (created) path for us. Whatever specialist you see, they will most likely agree that their specialty is the correct one. I would actually highly trust any doctor who tells you “no”. For example, the doctor I saw for shockwave finally said she didn’t want to do another treatment and then sent me to get an MRI, and I’m so grateful for her. She finally made me realize I truly needed to stop running and hiking to heal. On the other hand, if I went to see a surgeon, I can almost guarantee you they would have done surgery. (Not my path.) Similarly, several years ago a surgeon was ready to perform surgery on a labrum tear* and hip dysplasia, also telling me I’d eventually need surgery on my hamstrings. I didn’t have pain, I just didn’t feel like I had full control of my leg. I had the strongest feeling that surgery was not the right path for me (though it still took me some time to listen to that feeling, even when I cried during the MRI). But my sister’s good friend and great runner recently did have surgery for her labrum tear, and I 100% know she choose the right path for her (and I apologize to her for being another person to give my opinion on the matter, rather than just supporting her in trusting her inner knowing.). In short, get several opinions, but come back to trusting your gut. And don’t bypass the healing power of rest.
*The research on labrum tears, at least in the hips, is extremely mixed. Some people experience pain, and some people have no symptoms at all.
A Dog and Her Girl 