Learning to Trust Home

Lewa had everything she’d ever needed.

A home.
Food.
Safety.
A family who loved her.

The only problem was, she wasn’t entirely convinced any of it was going to last.

Lewa was rescued from the streets of the Solomon Islands when she was still a puppy. She was young, but those early experiences had already taught her something about life.

Resources weren’t guaranteed.
Safety was fleeting.
Home was unknown.

And even after her circumstances completely changed, some part of her was still living as though they hadn’t.

Her family noticed it in her behavior. She was chewing things around the house, playing too roughly with the other dogs, and struggling to settle, and she wasn’t particularly interested in being touched or getting close to her people.

When I connected with Lewa for the first time, she gave me an image that described her experience perfectly.

She felt like a bottle that had been shaken.

There was all of this pressure building up inside of her, and sometimes she simply needed somewhere for it to go. The chewing. The intensity with the other dogs. The restlessness. That was all the pressure looking for somewhere to go.

But underneath all of that was something much more tender.

Lewa was afraid she might be put back out on the street.

She hadn’t fully allowed herself to melt into this new life because she wasn’t convinced it belonged to her yet.

So we talked about it. I reassured her that this was her home. These were her people. She wasn’t going anywhere.

And she softened.

During that first session, Lewa built enough trust with me to receive a Huna clearing, and over the next few weeks we continued working together with craniosacral and energetic healing.

By our third session, I checked in with her to see what she needed next.

Her answer was essentially:

I’m good.

😂

In fact, Lewa had some ideas of her own.

She still needed somewhere for all that energy to go, so instead of chewing things around the house, she asked for coconut husks she could tear apart. (Even though that would still make a mess, it wouldn’t be household items - progress!)

She requested morning swims at the beach so she could expend some energy and sleep peacefully while her family worked at their café all day.

And when she was getting too intense with the other dogs?

Maybe just let her outside by herself for a while.

Fair enough, Lewa.

But the change her person noticed went beyond behavior.

After our work together, her parent wrote:

“I’ve noticed a huge shift in Lewa! She’s calmer and so much more comfortable being closer to me now. She is spending more time sitting + sleeping by my side throughout the day, even now as I write this. She’s also ok with me patting her whereas before she seemed really uncomfortable with anyone touching her.”

That part gets me.

Because Lewa already had a home before we ever met. What was changing was her ability to experience it as one.

She was beginning to let herself settle.
To receive touch.
To stay close.
To trust her people.
To belong.

And I think there’s something deeply familiar about that.

Sometimes life changes before we do.

We find the relationship we’ve wanted. The home we’ve longed for. The love.

And some part of us is still braced for the moment it disappears.

Our circumstances may say we’re safe long before our bodies know how to live that way.

Maybe part of healing is arriving somewhere better and slowly discovering that we can put our bags down once we get there.

That we can soften.
Receive what’s here.
Let ourselves belong.

Lewa’s family gave her a home.

And little by little, Lewa is learning that she gets to keep it.

Lots of love,

Annalise