Two friends were walking along a river when they noticed something in the water ahead: a child, caught in the current, struggling to stay afloat.
They didn’t think twice. They jumped in, fought the current, and pulled the child to safety.
They’d barely caught their breath when they saw another child. Then another. And another. Child after child, floating down the river in distress, and the two friends kept diving in, again and again, pulling as many out as their arms could carry.
At some point, one friend climbed out of the water and started walking upstream along the bank.
“Where are you going?” the other friend called out, exhausted, still pulling children from the current. “I need your help down here!”
The friend paused and said, “I’m going upstream. I need to find out who, or what, is putting these children in the river in the first place.”
I think about this story because so much of what we call “coping” is standing in the river, pulling out the same crisis again and again. The anxious thought. The relationship pattern. The people-pleasing. The overwhelm. The fear that shows up out of nowhere. We get good at rescue. We get exhausted by it. And we rarely stop to ask where it’s actually coming from.
For years, I lived in that river.
After witnessing a traumatic event in 2012, my nervous system stayed stuck in survival mode. Anxiety became a constant companion. Panic attacks, fear, hypervigilance, and a feeling that I was never truly safe followed me for years. I tried to manage the symptoms. I looked for ways to cope. I kept pulling myself out of the water.
But eventually, I realized I needed to go upstream.
More often than not, what keeps us stuck isn’t what’s happening today. It’s something that happened long ago. A younger version of us who learned that it wasn’t safe to feel, to need, to speak up, or to be fully ourselves. Those experiences leave an imprint. And when that younger part of us remains unseen and unheard, it can quietly shape our reactions, fears, and patterns for decades.
Going upstream became my own healing journey.
Through EFT (Tapping) and Biofield Tuning, I began meeting those younger parts of myself with compassion instead of judgment. Layer by layer, I released stored stress, unresolved emotions, and old survival patterns. My nervous system finally began to understand what my mind had been trying to tell it all along: the danger had passed.
The healing wasn’t instant. But it was profound.
Today, I live with a sense of peace and freedom that once felt impossible. Not because life stopped being challenging, but because the source of so much of my fear and anxiety had finally been addressed.
That’s exactly why I bring EFT and Biofield Tuning into the work I do with clients now.
These modalities help us go upstream. They help us gently uncover and release the emotional and energetic roots of the patterns that keep showing up in our lives. Instead of simply managing symptoms, we create space for true healing. Instead of constantly rescuing ourselves from the current, we begin to understand and transform what’s feeding it.
Healing isn’t just pulling the current crisis out of the water.
It’s walking upstream.
It’s turning toward that younger part of yourself with curiosity and compassion and asking, “What do you need from me now?”
It’s discovering that the anxious, overwhelmed, fearful parts of you aren’t broken. They’re carrying stories that need to be heard.
And when those stories are heard, something remarkable happens.
The current begins to calm.
So I want to ask you something today.
What becomes possible if your inner child isn’t in crisis anymore?
What changes when that part of you finally receives the safety, attention, and love it’s been asking for all along?
What might your life look like if you stopped spending all your energy staying afloat and started healing at the source?
That’s the work.
Not just surviving.
Going upstream.
With you on the journey,
Beth Chisholm
Kamiyah Coaching
Where Healing Begins and Hope Returns
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