I Thought I Was Just Doing Yoga…
Years ago, probably around 2008, I started practicing yoga regularly.
At the time, I thought I was doing something good for my body.
Stretching.
Moving.
Getting healthier.
You know... yoga.
Except every once in a while, I'd find myself in something like pigeon pose or child's pose and suddenly... I was crying.
Not this is so moving tears.
Full-blown emotion coming to the surface, and I had absolutely no idea why.
I remember being in class thinking...
What is happening to me?
And yes, part of me was embarrassed.
Because as far as I knew, nothing had happened.
Nobody had said anything.
I wasn't consciously thinking about something painful from the past.
I was just moving my body.
And yet, something was shifting.
I didn't have the language for it then that I have now.
We weren't talking about nervous systems, somatic practices, and body-based healing the way we are today.
And I certainly didn't have the relationship with my body that I have now.
But looking back, those moments were some of my earliest clues about something that has become foundational to the way I think about healing:
There is no one right way to heal.
And healing is certainly not one-size-fits-all.
I had been to therapy.
And therapy helped me.
It gave me language.
It helped me understand things that had happened to me and begin connecting some of the dots between my past and the person I had become.
There is enormous value in that.
But for me, talking wasn't the whole answer.
I could understand something intellectually and still feel like my body hadn't gotten the memo.
I could know why I reacted a certain way...
and still react.
I could tell the story...
and still feel something unresolved underneath it.
And then I started moving.
Yoga.
Rebounding.
Eventually JourneyDance.
And again and again, I noticed something:
Movement reached places in me that words didn't always reach.
I had spent so much of my life living in my mind — thinking, analyzing, understanding — and I still felt stuck.
Body-based practices gave me another way in.
Not because movement is better than therapy.
Not because everyone needs to dance their trauma out either.
But movement became an essential part of my healing.
Because my healing needed more than one doorway.
And yours might too.
That's something I believe deeply now.
Because we are not one-size-fits-all human beings.
Our stories can be remarkably similar.
We can recognize pieces of ourselves in someone else's experience and think, holy crap. Me too.
But we can live through similar experiences and be impacted by them differently.
Our bodies are different.
Our nervous systems share the same basic wiring, but what they've learned to do, adapt to, and protect us from is deeply personal.
And what we need in this season of our lives can be different from what we needed five years ago.
So why would there be one right way to heal?
And yet, there are plenty of messages out there telling us:
Do this.
Follow these steps.
Use this method.
Read this book.
Complete this program.
And if it worked for someone else but doesn't seem to be working for you?
It's incredibly easy to turn that into:
What's wrong with me?
But what if the problem isn't you?
Maybe that simply isn't your doorway.
I've found healing in therapy.
I've found healing on a yoga mat.
I've found healing on a dance floor.
In deep rest.
In sound.
In ritual.
In working with the moon.
In laughter.
In community.
In practices that helped me understand myself.
Practices that helped me stop trying to understand everything mentally and simply start feeling.
Different things have supported different parts of me at different times.
Different doors have opened different parts of my healing.
And I think that's important.
Because there isn't one doorway into healing.
There isn't one modality, teacher, therapist, facilitator, practice, book, program, or person who holds THE answer for everybody.
And yes, I say that as someone who facilitates healing practices.
I don't believe JourneyDance is the answer.
I don't believe somatic movement is the answer.
I don't believe meditation is the answer.
I don't believe anything I offer through Superfine Synergy is going to be the thing every woman needs.
And I don't want to pretend otherwise.
Because that's not the Superfine Way.
The Superfine Way isn't:
Here's how you heal.
Its:
Here's an invitation. Here's a possibility. Let's discover what supports you.
Maybe movement opens something in you.
Maybe you love it immediately.
Or maybe you friggin hate it.
I had a woman come to a live JourneyDance class, tell me — in front of the whole group — that she didn't like it and wasn't coming back.
And then?
She came back.
Because in the days after that first dance, she realized how much emotion had moved and released for her.
Her first reaction was I don't like this.
But that wasn't the end of the story.
And I think that's important too.
Because unfamiliar doesn't automatically mean wrong for us. And uncomfortable doesn't automatically mean unsupported.
Sometimes a practice brings us close to something we'd rather not feel.
Sometimes doing something differently than we've always done can stir up resistance.
Sometimes a protective part of us says:
Nope.
Don't like this.
We're not doing THAT again.
And sometimes?
Something genuinely isn't right for us.
That's why this isn't about forcing ourselves through every uncomfortable experience in the name of healing.
It's about becoming curious enough to notice the difference.
Is this actually not supportive for me?
Or is this unfamiliar?
Did something get stirred up that I wasn't expecting?
Is there something here I want to explore again — maybe differently, maybe more slowly, maybe with more support?
Discomfort is information. It doesn't always have to be a stop sign.
Maybe you love Yoga Nidra.
Or maybe being still makes you want to crawl out of your skin right now.
Maybe therapy changes your life.
Maybe it helps you understand yourself in ways you never have before.
Maybe you discover you need something alongside it.
You are allowed to explore.
You're allowed to be curious.
You're allowed to discover that something isn't for you.
You're allowed to love something that someone else doesn't understand.
You're allowed to use more than one tool.
And you're allowed to change your mind about what you need.
I think sometimes we want someone else to give us the answer.
Tell me what to do.
Tell me what will work.
Tell me how to heal this.
I understand that desire.
I've had it too.
Especially when you're hurting.
But maybe part of healing isn't only discovering what works. Maybe it's rebuilding our relationship with ourselves so we can recognize what actually supports us.
So we can begin to notice:
What actually supports me?
Not:
What should work?
Not:
What worked for her?
Not:
What is everybody on Instagram telling me I need to do?
But:
What happens in me when I experience this?
Do I feel more connected to myself?
More present?
More open?
More grounded?
Do I have greater access to joy?
To rest?
To my emotions?
To my body?
Does something soften?
Does something shift?
Does this practice help me meet myself with greater curiosity and compassion?
Do I feel supported by this — or am I forcing myself through it because I think I'm supposed to.
And if it feels uncomfortable, can I get curious about why before I decide what that discomfort means?
Your experience gets to matter.
And maybe that's one of the reasons Superfine Synergy has never been about one thing.
Because I don't believe we all heal through the same thing.
I want women to have opportunities to experience different practices.
To explore.
To move.
To rest.
To feel.
To connect.
To get curious.
To discover what resonates with your body, your life, your story.
And then?
Keep what supports you.
Get curious about what challenges you.
Set down what truly doesn't serve you.
Come back to something later.
Try something new.
Because just like we talked about last week, healing isn't linear.
And it isn't one-size-fits-all.
There is no gold star for healing the “right” way.
There isn't even a right way.
There is your way.
There is what supports you, here and now.
And you are allowed to keep discovering what that is.
So that's my invitation for you this week:
Think about the practices, tools, people, and spaces you currently turn to for healing and self-growth.
And instead of asking whether you're doing enough...
Ask:
What genuinely supports me?
What helps me feel more connected to myself?
What am I doing because I believe I should — and what am I doing because it actually supports me?
And maybe even:
Is there something I'm curious about that I haven't given myself permission to explore?
You don't need somebody else's healing roadmap.
You get to explore your own.
One practice.
One experience.
One curious little hmm... what about this? at a time.
There is no one right way to heal.
Maybe your healing needs more than one doorway.
Maybe the invitation isn't to find the answer.
Maybe it's to stay curious enough to discover what supports you — and which doors you want to open.
The Superfine Way 💜
— Danielle
P.S. If you missed the first four, you can explore Everything Is an Invitation, Why I Stopped Saying "This is a Safe Space", Judgment Is the Default. Curiosity Is the Practice, and Healing Isn't Linear.
This reflection was originally shared with our email community.
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