Beyond Fixing: The Moment Your Healing Begins to Feel Different
- Fabienne
- Oct 20
- 4 min read
There comes a moment on the trauma healing path when the edges begin to soften. Not because everything is resolved — but because something inside you no longer believes it needs to be.
For a long time, healing felt like work. There were emotions to release, patterns to trace, words to find for the preverbal or unspeakable.
You learned to sit with pain, to breathe through triggers, to notice your animal’s cues when something in your body tensed before you even realized it yourself.
Healing was movement — inward, downward, layer by layer.
It was necessary and often introverted, sometimes lonely. And for many of us, sacred.
And yet, at some point, something begins to shift.
The Moment Healing Changes Shape
It’s hard to name at first. You just notice that the urgency is gone.
The energy that used to propel you into the next session, the next practice, the next layer, has quieted.
You feel less drawn to fixing and more drawn to simply being.
At first, that stillness can feel unsettling.
Your mind might ask: Have I become numb? Am I avoiding something?
But the body knows the truth: this isn’t avoidance.
It’s arrival.
You might ask yourself: Is that it?
And without realizing, start looking for the next drama — the unregulated other nervous system, the familiar stress that feels almost like home.
To your body, peace can look like boredom at first.
But when you resist and trust the peace, you realise, this is not boredom.
It's nervous system calibration to peace.
The ache that once pushed you forward is now asking to rest.
You’ve met enough of yourself to trust that the rest will come in its own time.
And then something magical happens.
Our Animals Feel It First
Animals sense this turning before we do.
When the healing energy begins to change shape, they feel it in our field.
Their vigilance eases.
Their (often unwanted) behaviours start to soften.
Sometimes they start playing more. Sometimes they just nap near us — not guarding, just being.
They’ve been holding the mirror all along, showing us what we couldn’t yet feel.
And when we finally land in a quieter frequency, they can start to rest too.
I’ve seen this moment again and again. In myself, and in the people, I work with.
When the human stops chasing the next breakthrough, their animal companion’s nervous system follows.
Peace travels both ways.
The Space Between Healing and Becoming
There’s a space that opens here. Tender, unhurried, unfamiliar.
You might not know what to do with it.
After years of “doing the work,” rest can feel almost suspicious.
You look for the next problem to solve, but nothing calls back with the same urgency.
This is the in-between.
Not the end of healing, but the beginning of becoming.
Healing is about remembering safety.
Becoming is about remembering truth.
The two overlap, but they vibrate differently.
One releases; the other expands.
One clears the ground; the other plants the seed.
Your animal stands quietly beside you in this transition. No longer the mirror of your pain, but the witness to your becoming.
When the Tools Go Quiet
You might notice that your usual practices — journaling, clearing, processing — feel quieter too.
Not wrong, just softer.
It’s as if the medicine is no longer in the method, but in the moment itself.
Instead of asking “What do I need to heal today?”
the question becomes
“What is already whole here?”
It’s subtle, but everything changes.
You start noticing beauty again — the light on your animal’s fur, the scent of rain, the warmth of the sun. Your awareness turns outward, gently, as if the world is inviting you to participate again.
Healing is still happening, but through living, not working.
A Personal Note
I’ve been walking through this transition myself.
After years of exploring trauma and emotional release, I’ve noticed a different kind of pull — not forward, not backward, but deeper.
The work is the same in essence, but it feels lighter, truer.
I find myself less focused on “what went wrong” and more curious about “what wants to unfold.”
And every time I sit with my dog under the trees, I sense she already knows.
Her eyes hold a wisdom that doesn’t ask questions.
I don’t think healing ever ends.
But I do think it changes shape: from fixing to remembering, from release to expansion.
And somewhere in that shift, peace quietly starts to take root.
An Invitation to the In-Between
If you recognize yourself in this space — where healing feels different, gentler, maybe even uncertain — stay here a while.
Don’t rush to define it.
Walk slowly.
Drink tea.
Breathe with your animal.
Let silence be the practice.
There’s wisdom unfolding in the spaces you no longer fill with effort.
And your animal, as always, will show you how.
Because they’ve never been trying to fix you.They’ve just been waiting for you to see what they already see:
that there’s a wholeness here — beneath the story, beneath the work —and it’s been quietly loving you all along.
What if you’re not healing anymore — you’re remembering?
With warmth and possibility,
Fabienne 🩷
(A reflection on the moment Beyond Fixing: The Moment Your Healing Begins to Feel Different — for humans and the animals who walk beside us.)
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