Animal Connections for Inner Healing

Let me tell you a story about the kind of pain we don't talk about enough—the pain of being unseen, unheard, and misunderstood.

When I first began to experience the profound healing power of connecting with the natural world—of being with animals and immersing myself in nature—I felt a kind of breath filling me that I hadn’t felt in years. It was grounding and transformational, like the earth was holding me in a way no one else could. But when I tried to explain it to others, their responses made me question everything.

People would smile politely or shift uncomfortably, as if I’d just shared something too strange, too raw. I’d think to myself, What’s wrong with me? Why can’t they see this? Those moments of dismissal cut so deep that I started to doubt my own truth. Tears would spill down my cheeks as I wondered if I was broken for believing that animals and nature could be a more powerful force for healing than anything I’d experienced before.

But here’s the thing: healing doesn’t always happen where we expect it to. For me, healing began in the jungle.

The jungle became my lungs. It breathed life into the parts of me that had been suffocating under years of unresolved grief and fear. It was in the stillness of the trees and the presence of the animals that I began to understand what it means to come alive again.

You see, when we’re disconnected from ourselves—from our breath, our purpose, and our hearts—we walk through life like shadows. We function. We smile. We get through the day. But inside, we’re crumbling. And the world doesn’t make space for that. It tells us to “power through,” to “keep going,” even when every part of us is screaming for rest, for connection, for something more.

I know this all too well. I spent years in that space, pretending I was fine while carrying wounds so deep they felt impossible to heal. When my father passed in 2006, it felt like the air had been stolen from me. I didn’t know how to grieve, so I buried my pain and kept going. But the truth is, we can’t bury pain without burying pieces of ourselves along with it.

For years, I felt like I was walking through life half-alive. I was there, but I wasn’t really there. It wasn’t until I began volunteering with animals, spending time in nature, and letting myself feel the weight of it all that I began to heal.

The jungle taught me how to breathe again. The animals taught me how to trust the process of healing, even when it felt messy and overwhelming. They didn’t judge me or ask me to explain myself. They just existed, fully and unapologetically. And in their presence, I found permission to exist fully, too.

Healing isn’t about having it all together. It’s about being willing to sit in the darkness and trust that the light will come. It’s about learning to hold your pain with tenderness, knowing that it’s part of what makes you human.

For years, I was terrified of my own darkness. I thought that if I faced it, it would destroy me. But what I’ve learned is that facing the darkness is where our strength is born.

Today, I am my own light.

I think back to my younger self—the 27-year-old woman who was desperate to be seen, heard, and loved. She was screaming into the void, hoping someone would save her. I wish I could tell her, You’re stronger than you know. You already have everything you need to heal.

If you’re reading this and it feels like I’m talking to you, I want you to know this: your pain is not your end. It’s your beginning. Healing isn’t about becoming someone new—it’s about reconnecting with who you’ve been all along.

If you’re ready to start that journey, I’m here. Let’s work together to help you find your breath, your strength, and your light.

Email me today. You’re not alone in this.

Love & Conquer, Tanja Andersen 🌻