The other day, my daughter Brittany found herself in the middle of what can only be described as a tiny domestic crisis.
A plastic dinosaur had suffered a catastrophic injury.
Its head had fallen off.
Now, before you imagine chaos and panic, let me tell you: Brittany approached this situation like a seasoned orthopedic surgeon.
Very focused.
Very committed.
Very optimistic.
Out came the glue.
She carefully lined up the dinosaur head, squeezed on what I can only assume was an excessive amount of adhesive (because if a little glue is good, surely a lot is better?), and then sat there patiently holding the dinosaur together while it dried.
And she waited.
And waited.
Holding the head perfectly still.
Believing.
Trusting the process.
Invested.
Then…
plunk.
The head fell off.
Now, lesser people may have given up.
Not Brittany.
Back to the glue.
Back to the careful positioning.
Back to sitting there, lovingly holding together this poor prehistoric tragedy.
More waiting.
More hope.
More emotional investment than anyone should reasonably have in a plastic dinosaur.
And then…
plunk.
Off it came again.
At this point, I was trying very hard not to laugh because, honestly, haven’t we all had our own version of the dinosaur?
The relationship we’re trying to save with emotional duct tape.
The job that’s draining our soul, but “maybe next month will be better.”
The old story about ourselves that we keep trying to reshape into something less painful.
The grief we swear we’ve already dealt with but somehow still sneaks up on us in the grocery store parking lot.
The habit.
The fear.
The resentment.
The thing that clearly keeps falling apart, but we’re over here whispering:
“No, no… I can fix this.”
holds dinosaur head tighter
And listen, I get it.
Sometimes we become very attached to our dinosaurs.
Even the broken ones.
Especially the broken ones.
Because letting go feels scary.
What if we can’t replace it?
What if we regret it?
What if we’ve already invested too much glue?
(And emotional energy. And tears. And overthinking.)
But here’s something I’ve learned through my own healing journey and the work I do with clients:
Sometimes, healing isn’t about finding stronger glue.
Sometimes, it’s about processing what happened.
Feeling what needs to be felt.
Releasing the hurt, fear, grief, anger, or old beliefs we’ve been carrying around like a headless dinosaur in our backpack.
Because when we process things properly, something shifts.
The charge softens.
The heaviness lifts.
And suddenly, we’re not spending all our energy trying to hold something together that simply isn’t meant to be anymore.
We get to breathe again.
We get to move forward.
Maybe even toward a dinosaur with better structural integrity.
If you’ve got a dinosaur in your life right now, metaphorical or otherwise, and you’re tired of holding the head on, I’d love to help.
I’ll teach you how to process, release, and move through it with more ease than you thought possible.
Because you deserve more than surviving on glue and hope.
With love,
Beth
P.S. I regret to inform you that the dinosaur remains in critical condition.
You can book a session whenever you feel ready:
https://koalendar.com/e/energy-session-koaZc449