Growth, Grit, and Gut Instincts
A personal update from Heather at Willowhill Wellness
The past 4–6 months have been a wild mix of celebration and challenge—equal parts “I did it!” and “Wait, what is happening?!”
In January, I officially completed my osteopathic schooling—no cap and gown, just the quiet, satisfying click of “send” on my final paper, followed by a diploma in the mail from our head school in Montreal. It marked the end of years of deep study, exams, papers, and deep dives into the human body’s mysteries. A huge personal and professional milestone.
The end of February, I received my official osteopathic billing number—opening the door to offering osteopathic care at Willowhill. And to celebrate this new chapter, I bought myself a new hybrid truck. (Because yes, after five years of school, I wanted a vehicle that matched my new energy: efficient and ready for any terrain.)
But just as I was preparing to launch into this exciting next phase… my body hit pause.
At the end of January, during one of those classic Canadian winter moments, my snowblower ran out of gas. Not wanting to leave it on the sidewalk in the downtown area (you get it), I hauled it back toward the house. Later that day, I knew I had overdone it. And a few days later, the real plot twist hit: I sustained a moderate abdominal strain. Because nothing says “congrats, you did it!” like pulling your core just rolling over in bed. ????
What began as a sharp pain has turned into an ongoing journey to figure out exactly what’s going on and what I can do to help heal. Turns out, even manual therapists are human. (Annoyingly so.)
I later learned that walking during recovery should be limited to 5–10 minutes at a time, starting around week three… which, of course, I found out after doing a short hike in mid-February. Oops. Our core muscles stabilize during walking… and the hip flexor kicks in when the core is too weak or injured. March was when I finally surrendered to rest, reacquainted myself with the couch, and caught up on shows I’d been too busy to watch during school. Silver linings, right?
Since then, recovery has looked like slowing down, listening in, and trying to apply what I know about healing—on myself. I’ve scaled back on physically demanding treatments, dug deep into visceral and fascial connections, and practiced the kind of patience I usually reserve for reminding clients to “give it time.”
I’ve also learned how to ask for help—and how to accept it. As someone who’s used to doing so much, that hasn’t always come easily. But I’ve realized that rest isn’t weakness, and receiving support doesn’t mean I’m not capable. It means I’m human. And that’s a lesson many of us wrestle with—especially in caregiving or service professions.
It’s been humbling.
Despite the detour, I’ve continued to support clients—leaning into the more subtle and potent aspects of osteopathy. And while I’m not yet back to full capacity, this experience has sharpened my clinical lens and reminded me that healing—whether your own or someone else’s—is never a straight line. I will try to keep posting about my recovery and what I am learning about my process.
Thank you to everyone who’s supported me through this stretchy, reflective season. The learning continues. The work deepens. And the gut instincts? Still going strong—in every sense of the word.
