true
core
U n b o u n d 

somatic & integrative
 

One of the privileges of this work is witnessing moments that remind us how profound inner change can be.

 

I had been working with a client who carried resentment toward her mother. Through somatic and parts work practices, she gradually became more unblended from the resentful part of herself. As we listened to that protective part with curiosity, it revealed what lay beneath it: a much younger, fragile part that had never truly felt seen, emotionally supported, or valued by her mother. This vulnerable part carried deep feelings of being overlooked, dismissed, and under-valued. Although the original wound had existed for years, a more recent event, when she was a young adult, had reopened it so deeply that it felt almost impossible to heal. As our work continued, another attachment became clear: the hope that one day her mother would initiate a conversation regarding the circumstance, acknowledge the hurt she had caused, and perhaps even offer empathy or an apology. This longing had lived within her for decades.

 

Granted, there can be tremendous value in expressing ourselves to someone who has hurt us. Sharing our truth can be deeply healing. Yet our healing cannot depend on how another person responds. When our peace becomes attached to a specific outcome, we often remain emotionally linked to the very pain we are trying to move beyond. Of course, rather than trying to change her mother, we focused on helping my client release the emotional energy she had been carrying with her for years. Through somatic/parts work exercises, she gradually let go of some of the sadness, anger, and even the attachment to a particular outcome, should this conversation ever occur.

The exercise itself was relatively simple. We weren't trying to force forgiveness or create false positivity. We weren't expecting anything to change externally. What emerged instead was a genuine sense of embodied peace, spaciousness, and relief. For perhaps the first time around this issue, she felt less burdened by the need for her mother to respond in any particular way.

That alone was a meaningful therapeutic shift.

 

Then something remarkable happened.

 

Within two weeks, after decades of silence around this wound, her mother unexpectedly brought up the very subject they had both avoided. Completely on her own, she acknowledged what had happened and apologized. When my client shared this with me, I was genuinely stunned.

Their exchange was brief. Almost as quickly as the moment arrived, her mother's familiar defensive patterns returned. But for those ten seconds, something different emerged. There was enough openness for her Mother’s Self-energy to come forward, and she simply said, "I'm sorry."

Neither of us had expected that moment to happen. In fact, part of our work involved accepting that it might never happen, or worse yet, her response may be toxic, and yet our intention was on finding my client’s peace regardless. Can I say our work caused her mother to apologize?  No.

What I can say is that something shifted within my client. She no longer carried the same burden of resentment and expectation. Whether that internal shift subtly changed the way she related to her mother, created a greater sense of safety between them, or whether the timing was simply coincidental, I don’t know. But I remain deeply curious about moments like these.

I would say when an individual’s nervous system becomes less constricted and protected, another one may then respond differently. Perhaps emotional acceptance changes the relational and co-regulation field in ways we cannot yet fully comprehend. Or perhaps life occasionally offers moments of grace that cannot be explained. Whatever the reason, the most important transformation had already occurred before the apology. My client had begun reclaiming her own peace.

 

Experiences like this remind me why I deeply appreciate this work. Witnessing someone courageously meet their most wounded parts with compassion, helping them move toward greater acceptance, self-awareness, and freedom and having the privilege of accompanying them on that journey, is profoundly meaningful. The work, of course, continues.

Healing is rarely a destination; it is an ongoing relationship with ourselves.

 

Time spent cultivating your inner world is how healing and wholeness grows. We cultivate the conditions for healing, but we cannot command what our efforts may yield.

 

The invitation is to keep tending the garden,

and to hold possible outcomes lightly.