To be honest, the thing I have spent most of my life looking for has not been love or happiness. It’s been meaning.

Why am I here?
What am I supposed to do?

I never had clear answers. By the time I was born, it seems my father’s drinking was already fairly advanced and the house was fraught with stress. I spent a lot of time alone watching television, drawing pictures, and just staying to myself. I don’t recall considering much about what I liked or what I wanted to become. Perhaps I simply forgot. Perhaps those questions never had room to start, though.

When Everything Shut Down

Somewhere between first and second grade, things shifted dramatically. I shut down. Disconnected. Dissociated. About then, Dad’s drinking was completely out of control. I don’t remember hearing anything, but occasionally I saw things—my father doing something to my mother. There were nights when Mom would wake me up unexpectedly, pack me into the car, and drive us to a friend’s house or a motel. We never discussed it. We actually didn’t discuss anything.

My academic performance nose-dived. I flunked second grade and had to do it again. I recall just gazing out the window in class. Zoned out. Gone. If I’d been in low-level survival mode before that year, I was fully in it after. It never eased up, though.

No one ever asked about what I was feeling. Emotions were never discussed in our home. Everything seemed to be a secret. And I simply felt… alone.
Directionless.

Why I Chased Meaning Instead of Joy

I believe that’s why I pursued meaning. Not joy. Not even love.
Simply some reason for being here.

The Heart, According to Daoist Medicine

Daoist and Chinese medicine see the Heart as not only a physical organ, but rather as the core of our being.

Yes, it controls blood. But more than that, it rules the shen—our spirit, our awareness, our capacity to connect and feel and be present in the world. The Heart is us. And there’s a reason the Heart’s referred to as emperor. Everything else follows when it’s at ease. But when it’s disturbed—by trauma, by anxiety, by grief—the whole system falls out of sync.

Why All Healing Comes Back to the Heart

Here’s the part that’s often overlooked: Ultimately, all healing comes back to the Heart.

Every practice, every discipline, every aspect of Daoist healing is ultimately working to restore harmony to the Heart. Whether it’s using breath to soothe the nervous system, gentle movement to move qi, eating to support vitality, or harmonizing with natural cycles, everything revolves around one basic goal: reconnecting us to ourselves.

The Heart understands who we are.
It’s the Heart that feels love. That touches joy. That gives life meaning.

Trauma and the Loss of Connection

Experiencing childhood complex trauma—particularly the covert or hidden kind—often causes us to lose touch with the Heart. We could still be “functional,” but something crucial is lacking. We’re cut off from the ability to trust life, from recognizing what counts, from the experience of being complete. In Daoist philosophy, that’s shen disturbance. Sometimes subtle, sometimes severe; either way, it makes us feel empty, restless, cut off.

It’s not only emotional, either.

Everything else begins to fall apart when the Heart is out of tune. Sleep. Digestion. Hormones. Function of the immune system. The body begins to compensate for it. Other organ systems attempt to share the stress. But none of them can do the Heart’s function. Not completely.

When the Bridge Breaks

One pattern I’ve observed often is what Daoist medicine calls Heart-Kidney disharmony: the severance of the bridge between our worldly identity (Heart) and the profound source of our inner being (Kidneys). A broken bridge robs us of direction. We may still perform, still strive, still show up—but we’re not linked to anything that seems genuine. Trauma does that. It cuts off the underlying current that gives us life.

The Heart Remains

And still, the Heart endures.

It doesn’t vanish. Nor disappear.
It waits.

It waits for us to cease running.
To become silent.
To begin listening.

My Path Back to the Heart

My recovery path—what I now teach and share—is not only about understanding trauma or applying some ancient practices. It’s about going back to the Heart. Not the Hallmark interpretation of heart. Not sentiment or gentleness for its own sake. But the actual core. The place of clairity. The origin of spirit. The spot within us that still remembers who we are, even if we forgot long ago.

This return has been gradual for me. Inconsistent. Full of detours.
But slowly, I’m discovering how to let my Heart come forward once again.

And if you’re reading this, perhaps you are as well.

It’s Still There

It’s never too late to find your way back, no matter how far away you feel, how much you’ve had to shut down, survive, become numb. The Heart holds the whole story. It always has.

And it’s still there.
Waiting for your return home.