The Problem With Self-Help Lists (And a Better Way to Heal)

Why your body deserves more than quick fixes—and how the practice of letting go can change everything.

I wasn’t going to write this week.

My plan was to rest. That hollow, heavy anchor reappeared in my chest and began sinking into my belly—a clear signal from my body: pause, cocoon, be still.

Maybe you’ve felt it too. That unmistakable heaviness that says: “Slow down. You can’t keep pushing right now.”

So I gave myself permission. British baking shows. A bowl of cookies and ice cream with banana slices on top. Long walks with my dog. Time to gaze at the clouds. Space to sit in silence with my breath and with that sinking weight in my body.

And in that pause, I noticed something I want to name.

In the helper world—and especially in the monetized world—I often see (and have participated in) a pattern that doesn’t sit right with me: offering “how-to” lists, steps, or strategies that haven’t been lived through personally. Five ways to stop people-pleasing. Ten steps to rise from depression. Neat, digestible, but untested in the body of the one offering them.

Have you ever tried one of those lists and thought, “Why isn’t this working for me?” That disappointment isn’t about your lack of effort—it’s about depth. Without lived practice, even the most polished strategies land flat.

I’ve done this too—earlier in my career, when I naively believed that knowing the steps was just as valuable as walking them. I offered tools I hadn’t truly embodied, not out of malice, but out of eagerness. Until I made a firm commitment: not anymore. Not because it caused overt harm, but because it lacked roots. It’s like throwing a dart in the dark and hoping it lands somewhere useful. I’ve since learned—wisdom doesn’t stick without weight. And I want my offerings to come from a place that’s lived, not just learned.

The truth is, healing isn’t conceptual. Science shows that 80% of information flows from body to brain, not the other way around. Sensation first. Nervous system activation first. Story comes after. Which means that when I share something with you, I want it to come not only from my studies, but from my body’s lived experience—its trials, its troubleshooting, its surrender.

That’s what integrity in this work looks like to me.

For the past three weeks, I’ve been practicing alongside a book that embodies this principle: Letting Go: The Pathway of Surrender by David R. Hawkins, M.D., Ph.D. It’s simple in design but not easy in practice. The book describes a process not of suppressing or explosively expressing emotion, but of truly letting it move—removing the blockages of shame, self-criticism, or projection so that the body becomes a conduit for energy instead of a storage unit for it.

I’ve read it twice, and now I’m reading it again—this time more slowly, with curiosity. Along the way, I’ve created a 30-day practice plan and a set of guides that I’ll be sharing inside the Letting Go Book Club, beginning October 6. My hope is to gather with you there—to move through this book side by side, unlearning old programming, experimenting with surrender, and discovering together what it feels like to let light and life flow into the very spaces where we’ve long stored our emotions away.

This is the kind of work I want to offer you—not polished theory, but lived practice. Not quick fixes, but tools tested in the body. Because if I ask you to walk into the vulnerable, courageous space of transformation, I have to be willing to go first.

As I sit here now, that heavy anchor has softened. Not gone, but looser. Proof that even in the smallest ways, the body shifts when we allow space instead of forcing solutions.

So I’ll leave you with this:
What emotion or sensation in your body have you been keeping boxed up lately? And what might it feel like to let it move through you instead of shutting it down?

More about the book club will unfold in upcoming letters. Until then, thank you for being here—your presence matters more than you know.

---

I’ve begun ending with “Before You Go”—a voice note, heart to heart. It’s the touch that seems to gather all the pieces into one.

Before You Go, with Alyssa

---

Please like, share, re-stack, or pass it along.

Whether it finds one friend or a thousand strangers, your gesture helps this message reach the nervous systems who might need it most.

In a world that often feels loud and disconnected, every share is a quiet act of care and a ripple toward collective change.

AND…

If you believe in this work and would like to support it with a monetary token of appreciation, you can do so [here].

I choose not to put these resources behind a paywall because I want no barriers to access. Someone needs this—maybe that someone is you.

Your support helps me continue creating free and low-cost nervous system resources rooted in care, not algorithms.
It’s more than a tip jar—it’s a way of saying: keep going, this matters.

Thank you for being here. Truly.

---

Written by Alyssa Thompson Tolosa. Thoughtfully edited with ChatGPT. Intentionally curated with deep love and respect.