If you’ve ever had a sliver in your foot, you know your body won’t walk naturally.
It hobbles.
It twists.
Shifts weight.
Curls toes.
Anything to avoid pressing on the wound.
The body isn’t searching for the most efficient way to move.
It’s searching for the least painful way.
That’s the human condition.
We don’t automatically choose wholeness.
We choose relief from the pain that screams the loudest.
The same thing happens in our emotional life.
Instead of putting pressure on the wound, we lean on crutches:
addictions, people-pleasing, false personas.
The limp lets us move.
Sometimes we even believe the limp is what’s keeping us alive.
But over time, the limp becomes our walk.
Avoidance works to a point.
You can walk pretty far on a limp.
You can even build a career, a family, or reputation
while guarding your deepest wounds.
But compensation always takes a toll.
Muscles tighten.
Joints misalign.
And one day you realize: the hobble has become your life.
This is why healing feels so brutal.
It asks us to stop dancing around the wound.
To sit still long enough to feel the sting.
Healing doesn’t begin with a better limp.
It begins when we pull the sliver out.
And when the wound is tender, connection can help.
That’s why the FANOS practice matters:
it gives us a way to sit with our partner,
to name what hurts, what we need,
and to walk forward together without the limp.
