A Healer’s Words

My chiropractor is a true healer.

I don't use that word lightly. There are plenty of people who work in healthcare. Plenty of people who provide treatment. Plenty of people who perform services.

Kerry heals people.

I've known that for years.

The first time I went to see her was after I threw my back out while remodeling a house that my ex-wife and I bought shortly after moving to New Mexico.

I fucking hated that house. Every single part of it was broken.

The original section was adobe. There was a concrete block addition. There was a wood-framed addition. None of the plumbing made sense. None of the electrical made sense. Floors sagged. Windows leaked. Doors didn't close properly.

The place was a goddamned disaster.

So every day after work, I'd make a pilgrimage to Home Depot, fill my truck with supplies, and then spend the evening rebuilding some new piece of the house.

Plumbing. Electrical. Subfloors. Tile. Windows. Skylights. Heating. And yes, the fucking plumbing.

I traded blood with that house on multiple occasions.

In this particular case, I threw my back out badly enough that I finally admitted I needed help.

Someone recommended a chiropractor named Kerry Miller.

I had heard she wasn't like most chiropractors. I had heard she used a gentler approach. I had heard she actually listened.

So I made an appointment.

Three visits later, I was back to normal.

Ever since then, she has been the only chiropractor I've trusted.

Fast forward to today. I've been seeing Kerry throughout my recovery from the motorcycle accident. Almost eight months later, I'm still healing.

My body works. Mostly. But there are still pieces that don't move quite right. Pieces that still hurt. Pieces that still remind me of what happened.

Every two weeks, I walk into her office. And, every two weeks, she helps put another piece of me back together.

A few weeks ago, I gave her a copy of A Survivor's Guide to Survival. I wanted her opinion.

Not because she's a chiropractor. Because she's a healer. And I value the opinions of people who dedicate their lives to helping others recover.

A few days later she sent me a text:

"This is brilliant and I feel so many things in response to the eloquence herein. I am so grateful you chose to return to your passion of writing, truly a gift, and the capacity for the capture expressed within this Guide of your experience and its deep validity to all that have experienced trauma.

Thank you, Kate.

I am so grateful for your existence.

And that you are here to live this all forward with your remarkable presence."

I sat with those words for a while. Then she followed up:

"I have to send a copy to my brother. He came off his bike when he was 20 and I think it would move him deeply into his healing, even after all of these years. And I also would like a copy for the office. I want to read it again almost immediately."

I don't know that I've ever received a compliment that landed quite like that one.

Not because it praised my writing. Because it came from someone whose entire life revolves around helping people heal.

For years, Kerry has been helping put my body back together. Now she's telling me that my words might help put someone else's spirit back together.

That's humbling.

Deeply humbling.

The truth is that A Survivor's Guide to Survival isn't for everyone. It's not supposed to be. It's for people who wake up one day and discover their life has changed forever. It's for people trying to find their footing after trauma. It's for people staring at a future they never asked for. It's for people who need a reminder that surviving isn't enough. You still have a life to live.

If the lessons I learned during my own recovery help even one person navigate some of the darkest moments of their life, then the book has done exactly what I hoped it would do.

It has earned its place in the world.

I spent months writing those pages. Months reliving difficult memories. Months trying to distill pain, fear, uncertainty, and perseverance into something useful.

So hearing those words from someone I respect deeply felt like validation that the effort mattered. That the message landed.

Thank you, Kerry.

And thank you, universe.