When I’m Proven Wrong

On healing, projection, and the unexpected beauty of being met

I keep having these moments.

Moments where I expect something… and life shows up differently.

A new client writes to me, and I catch myself bracing. My mind fills in a story: he’ll be cold, demanding, wanting something I don’t offer. My nervous system remembers old situations, old dynamics. It’s like a part of me is still expecting to be met with resistance—or worse, with entitlement.

And ass I open the door. I’m proven wrong, again.

Yesterday it happened again. A man arrived in my space—soft, nervous, loving. Within moments, I could feel his tenderness. His truth. I got to hold him, witness him, feel the emotions rise and move through his body.

It was beautiful.

It was moving.

And it reminded me of something important:

This is not just about holding space for someone else. This is not just his healing.

It’s mine too. Every time I’m met with presence, gentleness, and heart—some part of me softens. Some belief loosens its grip.

The part of me that expects to be met with coldness learns to trust warmth. The part that’s prepared to defend learns to open instead.

This work—the work I do with others—isn’t one-way. It’s not even two-way. Healing moves in all directions. It flows between bodies, between hearts, through breath and presence and willingness.

We meet.

And in that meeting, something shifts. Not because we’re fixing anything. But because we’re showing up as we are—and that, in itself, is medicine.

We are the medicine.

I’m so grateful to live this. To witness it. To be reminded, again and again, that the world is softer and more beautiful than my mind prefers to think.

Thank you to all of you who come and open your hearts. You are part of this healing. More than you may ever know.