Roots, Ruptures, and Repair
We all carry stories from the landscapes we first called home — the family systems we grew up in, the beliefs handed to us, the way we first learned what love meant, or didn’t. These are our roots. But, we also have deep memories of ruptures in our stories. Ruptures that long for healing and repair.
What Are Roots, Ruptures, and Repairs?
Roots hold our earliest and most formational experiences — the stories, values, and attachments that shaped our sense of self and belonging.
Ruptures are the breaking points when those foundations are discovered to be painful or confining. A rupture can be found in realizing a harmful family or relational pattern, trauma or complex traumatic experiences, or in grieving relationships or systems that did not hold us with love and safety.
Repair is the ongoing work of healing: not by erasing what came before, but by facing our stories with nuance, compassion, and courage. Repair allows us to honor our roots, acknowledge harm, and gradually weave a more spacious, embodied sense of belonging. Sometimes repair happens in the relationships or systems we have been a part of….and sometimes it does not. However, the healing work of repair within is always possible.
The Complexity of Healing
A beloved houseplant recently reminded me how vital it is to honor our ongoing process of growth. For several years, this lovely plant thrived in my dining room. But over the past few months, I noticed it drooping, failing to sprout new growth, parts slowly dying back. It was a message: the plant had outgrown its original container.
It needed space—room for its roots to spread, a chance for new nourishment and possibility. So I moved it to a much larger pot, one that could hold the fullness of its growth. Every day now, as I walk by, I’m struck by how much healthier, stronger, and—dare I say—happier it seems.
This simple act of repotting is a powerful metaphor for our own journeys. Caring for ourselves means tending with attention to what has been harmed or wounded—while also allowing ourselves the spaciousness we need to thrive.
In my doctoral research and in my work with survivors of complex trauma, I have seen that healing rarely follows a straight path. Some of our deepest wounds are tied to relationships, family values, or sacred beliefs — things not easily untangled.
That is why healing asks us to discern again and again:
What is worth keeping?
What must be released?
What can be reimagined or transformed?
What parts of us need compassion?
There is no one playbook. A truly healing path will not look like rigid, step-by-step instructions. Of course there are wonderful, evidence-based approaches, and deep, ancient wisdom that we can draw from. Ultimately, though, no two journeys look exactly alike.
You don’t have to choose between honoring your roots and growing beyond them. You don’t have to resolve complexity into simple answers. You don’t have to follow a healing path that is trendy but shallow.
You are worthy of the slow, gentle process of allowing your body to show you where your roots have served you, where they want to stretch out and grow to nourish new life, and where the ruptures that have hindered that flourishing are seeking to be attended to with kindness and compassion.