The “Heeling” Journey
I have a five-year-old Cocker Spaniel named Rocky. He’s the absolute obsession of our home. We love Rocky. We sing to Rocky. We plan our family activities around Rocky—he’s a big deal.
Rocky on look-out to protect his castle.
The other day, during a “Rocky Walk-y,” he was pulling me as usual. We use a leash called a Gentle Leader that goes around his muzzle and snaps on top of his head. It doesn’t pull on his throat, which we love. Essentially, his body follows wherever his nose leads, so there’s no need to yank on the leash to get him to “heel.” At least, that’s the idea.
In Rocky’s case, when we first step outside, he’s full of excitement. After being cooped up for hours, I imagine his heightened sense of smell makes the world feel like an endless oyster. Of course, as the human in this scenario, I’m trying to pull him back to stay in step with me. If you’ve ever had a dog, you’re probably familiar with the term “heel.” I say it to Rocky as though he’s been formally trained to understand the command. Spoiler alert: he has not (hand-to-face emoji).
Rocky on a walk-y
But on this particular day, I said something that stopped me in my tracks:
“Rocky—if you heel, it won’t hurt.”
Now, to clarify, the Gentle Leader doesn’t hurt him—it doesn’t choke or strain his neck. But watching him charge ahead with so much tension in the leash doesn’t look comfortable. My point was simple: if he slowed down, the walk would be more enjoyable for him.
That moment got me thinking about my own “heeling” journey. How many times in my life have I rushed forward without allowing myself the time to properly “heal,” only to prolong my own discomfort?
Rocky feeling his emotions.
Sometimes, it’s amazing to charge ahead and refuse to let anything hold you back. But that’s not what I’m talking about. This message is for anyone rebuilding after what feels like an insurmountable chapter of life—a time so heavy it forced you to let go of the things that made you, well, you.
Over time, you might have grown so used to distancing yourself from your authentic self that you no longer recognize who you are. This could be the result of leaving an abusive relationship, a divorce, a toxic work environment, or even the loss of a beloved pet. Whatever your situation, I encourage you to slow down.
Take the time to “heel” so that you can truly heal. Rushing through this vulnerable period can reopen wounds that are trying to close. Be cautious about whose advice you take. Well-meaning friends and family might encourage you to “get back out there,” but rushing the process isn’t always the best path forward—especially when recovering from trauma.
I wish you all the best on your journey. If you’ve experienced something similar, I’d love to hear your story—please leave a comment.
Smiles x Miles,
Alissa Gray
