Relational Healing

Walking Through the Underworld: A Return to Relational Healing

I don’t want to build a life or livelihood by commodifying pain.
This work—this life—isn’t about fixing, selling, or branding the sacred.
I’m not here to be your healer. I’m a human being who has clawed, curled, and crumbled my way through the underworld more times than I can count.
Each time, I’ve come back with a deeper capacity to sit with what’s hard, with what aches, with what breathes beneath the surface of survival.

The underworld isn’t some metaphor I use lightly.
It’s the felt experience of loss, of unraveling, of identities stripped bare. It’s when the ground disappears and language fails, and all that’s left is the thrum of breath and the willingness to keep going.
I’ve lived there. And because I have, I don’t fear going there with others.

I don’t lead. I don’t fix. I sit. I witness.
I honor the slow, the messy, the nonlinear becoming that can’t be monetized or rushed.
I offer what I know in my bones: that you are not broken, and you don’t need to earn your way to wholeness.
Your pain doesn’t need to be polished. Your process doesn’t need to be perfect.
You get to come as you are.

The Natural World Already Knows

The kind of healing I offer—if we even want to call it that—is less of a service and more of a remembering.
It mirrors the wisdom that nature shows us every single day.

In the forest, nothing heals in isolation.
Trees don’t pull themselves up by their roots—they lean on the mycelium, the soil, the stillness.
There’s no pressure in nature to bloom out of season.
There’s no shame in decay.
The compost is as sacred as the blossom.

Healing is relational.
Like the quiet web beneath the forest floor, there are networks of care we cannot always see, but that carry us when we forget how to carry ourselves.
We are not meant to do this alone.

Water teaches us, too. It doesn’t rush.
It softens stone by staying close.
It carves new paths simply by being in motion.
And when it rests, it does so completely.

This is what I trust.
The slowness.
The spiral.
The cycle of return.

Beyond the Transaction

I don’t believe healing should be locked behind a paywall.
It’s not something you buy or sell or ascend to.
It’s something you move through, with others, at your own pace, in your own body.

We’ve been conditioned to think we need to perform our pain to earn support.
To be fixed.
To be palatable.
But there is nothing wrong with you.
Your body is not a business.
Your grief is not a brand.

I’m not here to offer answers—I’m here to offer presence.
And presence, real presence, is more powerful than any program or polished promise.
It’s a hand on the earth beside you when you’re deep in the dark.
It’s someone saying, “I won’t leave.”

That’s what this is.
A refusal to play by the rules of a system that profits off disconnection.
A trust fall into something older, something wiser.
A remembering that healing is slow, relational, and rooted.

A Closing

Healing is not a product.
It’s the river, the roots, the soil.
It’s the way nature teaches us to be with what is—without shame, without rushing.
I don’t walk ahead of you. I walk with you.
Through the dark.
Toward the light.
And into the wild truth that you’ve always belonged to yourself.