Inner Healing Resources LLC

11/25/2025

America’s gentlest poet carried a lifetime of grief — and turned it into the most hauntingly beautiful words we’ve ever read
Robert Frost wasn’t the warm grandfather we imagine when we think of snowy woods and quiet roads.
He was a man who lost almost everything — and somehow kept writing anyway.
Four children buried.
A wife he adored gone too soon.
A son lost to despair.
And a life that taught him early that the world does not promise safety.
He grew up poor, anxious, and brilliant — a boy who read by candlelight while his father drank himself sick and died before Robert turned twelve.
By twenty, he had buried his first child.
By his thirties, he was a failed teacher, failed farmer, failed editor… and a desperate writer with nowhere left to go.
So he gambled everything.
He sold the family farm and moved his wife and children to England — a reckless leap that became the turning point of his life.
In a tiny cottage near Beaconsfield, Frost finally found his voice.
He wrote the poems that would make him immortal — Mending Wall, Birches, Home Burial, and the seeds of the verses generations would memorize.
People saw pastoral calm.
But inside the lines were razor blades — grief, exhaustion, loneliness, choices that left bruises, and the quiet ache of trying to carry on.
Loss followed him for decades.
His daughter Marjorie died after childbirth.
His wife Elinor passed away, leaving him shattered.
His son took his own life, and Frost found him.
One tragedy after another… yet he kept writing, not to escape pain but to survive it.
That’s why “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” feels peaceful at first — until you realize Frost was writing about the temptation to give up, and the courage it takes to keep going.
By 1961, he was an American icon — white-haired, revered, undefeated by the life that tried to break him.
At JFK’s inauguration, when the sunlight blinded him and he couldn’t read the poem he’d written, he simply set it aside and recited another from memory.
A poet too old to see the page, but strong enough to deliver the moment anyway.
Robert Frost wasn’t soft.
He was steel wrapped in snow.
A man who carried unbearable grief and somehow turned it into lanterns we still hold when life gets dark.
His poems remain because they’re not about nature — they’re about us.
Our crossroads.
Our fences.
Our promises.
Our long walks through nights that feel endless.
Our decision to take one more step when we’re not sure we can
No comments yet

10/05/2025

09/18/2025

“Today was a Difficult Day,” said Pooh.
There was a pause.
“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Piglet.
“No,” said Pooh after a bit. “No, I don’t think I do.”
“That’s okay,” said Piglet, and he came and sat beside his friend.
“What are you doing?” asked Pooh.
“Nothing, really,” said Piglet. “Only, I know what Difficult Days are like. I quite often don’t feel like talking about it on my Difficult Days either.
“But goodness,” continued Piglet, “Difficult Days are so much easier when you know you’ve got someone there for you. And I’ll always be here for you, Pooh.”
And as Pooh sat there, working through in his head his Difficult Day, while the solid, reliable Piglet sat next to him quietly, swinging his little legs...he thought that his best friend had never been more right.”
A.A. Milne

09/16/2025

“The greatest damage done by neglect, trauma or emotional loss is not the immediate pain they inflict but the long-term distortions they induce in the way a developing child will continue to interpret the world and her situation in it. All too often these ill-conditioned implicit beliefs become self-fulfilling prophecies in our lives. We create meanings from our unconscious interpretation of early events, and then we forge our present experiences from the meaning we’ve created. Unwittingly, we write the story of our future from narratives based on the past...Mindful awareness can bring into consciousness those hidden, past-based perspectives so that they no longer frame our worldview.’Choice begins the moment you dis identify from the mind and its conditioned patterns, the moment you become present…Until you reach that point, you are unconscious.’ …In present awareness we are liberated from the past.” Gabor Mate

09/07/2025

Medical trauma encompasses both interpersonal and intrapersonal dimensions. It refers to the deep emotional and psychological impact that medical experiences can have on a person. This trauma may arise not only from the nature of the medical procedures themselves but also from interactions with healthcare professionals—where feeling unheard, dismissed, or dehumanized can leave lasting wounds. At the same time, the individual's own internal responses—such as fear, helplessness, or shame—also play a significant role. Understanding medical trauma means recognizing the full spectrum of a person’s experience, validating their pain, and approaching their care with empathy, respect, and compassion.

09/07/2025

The Path to Healing

Healing from trauma is a process, not a destination. It involves gently and patiently addressing the past without being overwhelmed by it. It requires a safe space to process emotions, re-establish a sense of control, and rebuild trust. For some, this may mean talking through memories in therapy. For others, it's about learning coping skills to manage triggers and emotional responses.

What I've learned most is that empathy is a powerful catalyst for healing. When a person with PTSD feels seen, heard, and understood, it can break the cycle of isolation and shame. My role as a counselor is to provide that compassionate space, to help individuals recognize that their symptoms are valid, and to empower them to find their own unique path toward peace. It is a privilege to walk alongside them on this journey of courage and hope.

08/29/2025

"When we change the way we look at things, the things we look at change" ~Wayne Dyer

08/19/2025

“The good life is a process, not a state of being. It is a direction not a destination.” -Carl Rogers