When healing sneaks up on you

There comes a point where the people who help us become part of the very story we’re trying to outgrow.

It’s an odd spot to land.

I’ve gotten to work with incredible professionals in my 43 years. Therapists, pastors, counselors, and dear friends who’ve made space to listen and mirror back some questions to consider. Each one walked with me for a season where I most needed them. Then I reached a point where it felt time to close that chapter. Honestly, it often happened because I was moving states or they retired or insurance changed.

But I recently found myself in a position of closing a chapter with a therapist I worked with for a pivotal year in my story. I’m someone who’s fascinated with our inner worlds so there’s been no end to he number of stories I could be curious about. I’ve long assumed I’d be working with a therapist my entire life.

But ending this season with my therapist is teaching me something valuable.

I’m far more ready than I realize.

My last several therapy appointments have contained a statement similar to this: “I think I’m actually doing pretty well. When things go off the rails, I know why and I know how to find my center again.”

My therapist encouraged me to pause and let that reality sink in. I’ve been intentionally working on my mental and emotional health since 2016. It’s now 2025.

I know so much about me now.

And it feels good.

Before — life was all about outperforming and outrunning the inner chaos.
Now — life is about listening to all the parts of me and resourcing what she needs.

It’s quite shocking how much wisdom my body holds. How much she knows about my past, present, and future. How intuitive she is about what’s good for me and where bumper lanes need installed.

I’ve learned why I struggle making the transition from rest to a work event that requires big energy. I’m creating rituals that help my nervous system shift into gear in far less bumpy ways.

I’ve learned more about my communication patterns with my partner and how we perceive each other based on our unmasked tone of voice. We’re learning to listen to content, not just tone, which is shockingly hard to do.

I’ve learned to set BIG boundaries that are altering the shape of my life and vocation. My body is beside itself with joy and curiosity. She makes all my decisions now.

I’ve learned how quickly my nervous system snaps into a fawn response when I’m processing multiple streams of incoming data like eye contact, body posture, hand placement, emotional cues, social cues, and conversation content. Instead of defaulting to mimicking the others around me, I’m learning to stay in my body and respond in ways more natural to who I am (if I sense the person is safe).

I’ve learned that my neurocomplex brain is a powerhouse. It operates on multiple levels at the same time and connects patterns that others miss. I arrange my work to fit these rhythms and downsides instead of forcing my nervous system into structures I cannot survive.

I’ve learned how to support neurocomplex tweens and teens so they gain practical understanding of their gifts and the very real needs these gifts demand. I get a front row seat to watching teens learn to advocate for supports that help them show up with more presence and less anxiety.

As our last session came to a close, I felt sad to close my laptop. For a year, we co-created a space where I felt safe enough to tell the truth about life. I got to hear gentle simple questions that nudged me to see a different perspective. My therapist walked with me into some old stories and helped me release a few layers of pain I’d be lugging along for longer than was necessary.

Bringing this season to a close brought me face to face with an uncomfortable truth:

Part of me has been hiding behind my therapist. As long as I have something to work on, then it must not be the right time to take risks. Keep working. Keep being curious. Keep unraveling another thread.

Sure, working on one’s mental health is a pretty good coping mechanism compared to the laundry list of options we have. But it’s also another way to hide.

When, in reality, I’m just scared.

As long as I have another question to reflect on, I can distract myself from the big invitations life is hand delivering. But see, I can’t. Not yet. I’m still working on this. And this other pattern over here. This other part of my life is kind of a mess.

So weirdly enough, my work right now is to realize I’ve done more work than I comprehend.

Sometimes you’re actually ready to take that step.

Which is terrifying too.

For those of us who navigate neural pathways wired for fear and panic, arriving at a place where wellness is the bulk of our story feels — odd.

So today, I’m celebrating the unseen work each of us do that not many ever see. The threads we pull, curious about the stories living in our bodies. The gentle compassion we bring to our hearts. The brave risks we wonder about.

And the moments we realize we’re far more ready than we knew.

Sending gentle love,
Jenny