Over the last five months, I've been living with a level of back pain that has changed almost every part of my life.

I can't hike. I can't run. I can't bike. I can't raft.

I can't do many of the things that have always helped me feel like...me.

I also haven't been able to stand for long periods of time, sit comfortably, make dinner, shower without pain, or do many of the ordinary, everyday things I've always taken for granted.

I know many of you reading this live with chronic pain. While I would never pretend to fully understand your experience, these past five months have opened my eyes to a small glimpse of what you carry every single day.

It's incredibly hard.

And I want you to know how much more I see you.

I see the strength it takes to keep showing up when your body hurts.

I appreciate the stories you've shared with me, the vulnerability you've trusted me with, and the courage it takes to navigate each day when even the simplest tasks require. so. much. energy.

You have given me an even deeper respect for what you carry.

Many of you have shared with me how dark some days can feel. How pain doesn't just affect your body—it touches your relationships, your work, your hope, and your sense of who you are.

To be honest, I've had some of those dark days too.

Days where the pain has felt so relentless that I've wondered if life would ever feel like mine again.

Days where I haven't only felt disconnected from my body—I have felt disconnected from myself, my family, my work, my friends, and even my sense of belonging.

What has made this especially painful is that, before I began my own trauma healing, I spent years deeply disconnected from my body. Dissociation was how I survived. I could be doing all the "right" things on the outside while barely feeling myself on the inside.

One of the greatest gifts of my healing journey has been discovering movement. Hiking, running, biking, rafting, yoga, and simply being outside helped me come home to myself. They helped me feel my body. They became places where I could connect with myself instead of disappearing from myself.

So when my back pain became debilitating, it almost felt cruel.

It wasn't just that I lost activities I loved.

It felt like I was losing the very thing that had helped me find myself.

Recently I read these words from North and Soul:​

"When you feel disconnected, tell it to the earth; she is the great master of belonging."

The words “Tell it to the earth”, offered me something new.

Nothing was solved.

But I realized my younger parts weren't just feeling disconnected.

They were wondering if they still belonged.

And they wanted to speak to the earth.

But before I get to the “telling the earth part”....

My younger parts first needed to tell me…

And as I've spent time listening to them, I've begun to understand something more.

They aren't asking, "Will we ever hike again?" - Like I am asking....

They're asking:

"Now that we can't do the things that helped us connect...will you still love us?"

The trust we've built over these years isn't meant to depend on whether my body can perform.

These younger parts want to know if I will still love them even when I'm not physically capable, productive, adventurous, or strong.​
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As I sat with that question, I found myself exploring it through the wisdom of 3 of the chakras and the elements they represent.

The earth reminded me that belonging isn't something I have to earn. Even if I'm simply sitting outside with my feet on the ground….the earth still holds me.

Water reminded me that emotions don't have to stay stuck. They can move gently or aggressivly, even if I'm not floating down a river.

Then I arrived at the fire of the third chakra.

Fire invited me to look honestly at where my drive comes from and "do" some self confronting, since I can't "do" all the other things I want to do.

Movement has been a huge part of my healing.

It has helped my nervous system regulate and reconnect.

And I have begun to see another layer....

A younger part of me reminded me of things I learned growing up, narratives like:

"If I keep doing...I'll be loved."

"If I keep doing...I'll belong."

"If I keep doing...I'll be enough."

That realization has been both painful and incredibly freeing.

Because right now, my body won't let me keep proving my worth through "doing".

So I've been asking myself:

Which parts of my "doing" truly bring me alive?

And which parts of "doing" have been fueled by fear, approval, validation, or the need to earn love?

I'm realizing that there are parts of my "doing" that have served my healing beautifully.

And there are other parts that were born from trauma.

Those are the parts I'm gently learning to clean up.

Can I love myself when I physically can't do much?

Can I still believe I belong when I'm not accomplishing?

If I'm honest, over the last five months, I haven't loved that version of myself very well.

But maybe this season isn't taking away my healing.

It's inviting my healing into another layer.​
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And this is where the telling it to the earth comes in.

I first used my 5th chakra and shared all this with some friends and my hubby.

Then I used my 5th chakra again with somatic vibrations...

Sometimes I would hum (using a tune or no tune),

Sometimes I would make a long, slow "VOO."

I'd tell the earth while inside my house, looking out,

Or while outside sitting on a chair...

And then....

I noticed where the vibration traveled.

I noticed my body parts and old narratives soften.

I noticed what emotions began to move.

The vibration felt like:

Water carrying what had been stuck.

Fire bringing warmth back into places that had gone numb or activation into actual body parts that had turned off due to nerve pain.

Earth grounding me back into myself.

These chakras and using the vibration of my voice continue to help remind all parts of me that I am still here.

That I still belong.

That I don't have to earn my place through productivity.

A Gentle Practice

If you'd like to try this with me, I invite you to find a comfortable place to sit.

Feel the support beneath you.

Notice your feet touching the ground or your body resting in the chair.

Take one slow breath.

Ask yourself:

Where have I been looking for belonging lately?

Without trying to change anything, simply notice what comes up.

Then take a slow inhale and, as you exhale, let out a long, gentle hum...or a slow "VOO."

Notice where you feel the vibration.

Let it move through your chest, your belly, your throat.

Imagine the vibration flowing through you like water.

Feel the warmth it creates like a small fire rekindling within.

Feel the earth beneath you holding you exactly as you are.

You don't have to force an insight.

Just notice.

Maybe the question isn't,

"How do I get back to who I was?"

Maybe it's,

"Who am I becoming when I no longer have to earn my belonging?"

As I continue learning this myself, I'm finding that healing isn't asking me to stop doing the things I love forever.

It's inviting me to discover that my worth was never built on them in the first place.

And maybe that's true for you, too.

With love and a Reminder, ❤️

You Matter. Your Healing Matters. You Are Worth It!

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