Healing Through Time

A client once came to me with a simple wish.

She loved her grandson, and she loved spending time with him. But whenever they were together, she couldn’t quite land. Her mind would drift, and she’d feel distracted and a little far away. More than anything, she wanted to really be with him.

So we ran energy to that wish: her and her grandson, connected and present.

Almost right away, I felt grief. Young grief, from around the age of eight.

When I asked her about it, she paused and said, “Yes. That makes sense.”

When she was eight, she had a guinea pig she adored. One day while she was at school, it died. By the time she got home, her parents had already taken care of it. There was no goodbye and no place to cry, and nobody ever talked about it again.

Her parents didn’t know how to handle it, so she learned not to handle it either.

Without realizing it, she carried a quiet belief from that day forward: if I love something, it might disappear, and I won’t be allowed to feel it when it does.

So she held back with her grandson. She came to see that she had been holding back with a lot of people in her life.

This where the story connects.

Recently, I shared this story during a Level 1 workshop, and I could see it landing for one of my students. When I asked what was coming up for her, she said she could hardly believe I’d chosen that story to share, because it felt so close to her own.

Just before she turned eight, a young child drowned in her family’s pool. Paramedics came, and there was noise and chaos everywhere. She ran back and forth between the front yard and the backyard, trying to understand what was happening. Her mom wasn’t home, and there was no one to hug her and tell her she was safe.

Afterward, the family never spoke of it again.

So we paused the workshop and ran energy to her in that moment.

What came up was confusion. There was so much confusion, and underneath it was a fear she’d carried for decades: that the people she loved could be gone in an instant, and there’d be nothing she could do about it.

As the energy moved, she let herself do something that eight-year-old girl never got to do. She let herself be comforted and held. She felt safe in her body, and safe in her relationships.

Afterward, she shared this with me:

“I had episodes of crying while giving and receiving energy. I felt relief and seen, during and after my session. I saw the trauma of my neighbour drowning in my pool in a different light — the confusion of what was happening could have been what he was feeling as he passed to the other side, versus my own confusion, or a combination of both.”

This is what I want you to know. The feelings we don’t get to feel don’t just disappear. They wait. They tuck themselves away in the body and quietly shape how we show up: how close we let people get, how present we can be, and how safe we feel in our own skin.

Most of us have something like this. Maybe it isn’t a guinea pig or a pool. Maybe it’s a move, a loss, or a moment when no one noticed you were scared. It’s something you got through by not feeling it.

You don’t have to go digging. You don’t have to relive it or have it all figured out.

In Quantum-Touch, we use simple breathing and body awareness to bring life force energy to whatever is asking for attention. I often call that energy love. Your body knows the way. Our part is to be present, breathe, and give it space to shift.

Love is the antidote to pain.

Every workshop unfolds a little differently. Somehow, the people who gather and the stories that get shared always seem to be exactly what’s needed. I never get tired of watching that happen. 

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