Inquisitive.me

I care deeply about my patients. I want the best for them—not just because it’s my job, but because I know how it feels to struggle. I’ve been the patient who didn’t get the right information or the support I needed. Maybe that’s why it hits me so hard when I invest my time, energy, and resources into someone’s recovery… and then watch them stop their exercises as soon as therapy ends. Yes, I’m paid for my work—but that doesn’t make it hurt less.

And I get it. Staying consistent is hard, especially when your goal is simply “be pain-free.” Once the pain is gone, many people feel like the work is done.

But I also know how incredible it feels to actually own your body again. The clarity after a workout. The balanced mind that comes from regular training. The sleep that feels deeper because you moved during the day. These are the things I try to pass on—the things I hope they take with them long after therapy is over. I want them to see that the struggle is worth it, that the energy you put into your body comes back to you tenfold.

And still… many stop. It can be frustrating.

But a recent conversation with an author gave me a completely new perspective.

He had just finished writing the screenplay for one of his own books. (For context: he wrote the book first, and only later was approached to turn it into a film—so he ended up writing both the novel and the screenplay which is rare as he told me.) I asked him how he deals with the fact that the actors chosen for the film may never match the characters he imagined. I assumed he must have had a clear picture in his mind—how they look, how they move, how they breathe.

What he said shifted something for me.

He told me that when your book becomes a film, it’s like letting your kids out into the world. You raise them, you teach them your values, you shape them—but once they’re out there, they live their own life. They change in ways you didn’t intend, and sometimes in ways you don’t even like.

It’s the same with a book turned into a movie. You provide the structure—the story, the characters, the themes—but what happens after that is out of your hands. All you can do is hope. He said he tries to see the book and the film as two completely different works. The book is his. The film is its own thing.

And suddenly it clicked for me: physiotherapy works the same way.

I can give my patients the tools, the knowledge, the plan. I can teach them, guide them, encourage them. But what they do once they walk out the door—that’s no longer mine to control. Some take everything to heart, grow from it, and even years later thank me for empowering them. Others don’t—or simply can’t—even when they fully understand what they should do.

The person you see in therapy is not always the same person who continues (or doesn’t continue) afterward. Just like a book and its film adaptation—they might share the same title, but they can become completely different works.

And maybe accepting that is part of the job.

🧪 Let’s Experiment

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Letting go starts with trusting that what you gave was enough.

If you often carry the weight of other people’s choices on your shoulders, try shifting the focus from control to clarity.

🎯 Try This:

1. Pause → Notice Your Effort ⏸️
   Before you rush into the next task or patient, take a moment to acknowledge what you genuinely gave: your time, your attention, your expertise, your compassion.
   Just 10 seconds of awareness.
   This grounds you in what you control.
2. Shift → Hand Back the Responsibility 👐🏻
   Visualize placing the next step into the other person’s hands — almost like passing a baton.
   Not in frustration, but in trust.
   This small mental shift helps you emotionally separate your role from their choices.
3. Anchor → Choose One Boundary Sentence ⚓
   Pick a single sentence that becomes your anchor whenever you feel yourself holding on too tightly.
   • “I guided them. The next step is theirs.”
   • “I’m responsible for what I give, not what they do.”
   • “I planted the seed. Growth happens on their timeline.”
4. Recognize → Notice Your Quiet Wins 🌱
   Pay attention to the subtle shifts in people — a calmer breath, better posture, a spark of confidence, less fear.
   These small changes are signs that your influence is still alive, even if the follow-through isn’t perfect. Quiet wins count.
   They often matter more than you think.

🧠 Final Thought:

Letting go isn’t abandoning someone. It’s respecting their autonomy and protecting your own energy. You can walk beside people, but you can’t walk for them — and that’s what makes their progress meaningful.

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Keep it simple, stay curious, and keep learning—you’ve got this.

Take care,

Carina 🦊