I Am Healing Alongside You

One of the strangest things about being a therapist, trauma healer, or someone people place in the “helper” category is how quickly others assume you must be healed.

As if the certifications, trainings, books, and years of sitting with people somehow exempt you from being human.

I think many healers get miscategorized this way. We become symbols of arrival instead of people still walking the path ourselves.

The truth is: I am struggling alongside many of my clients.

And I don’t say that to evoke hopelessness or cynicism. I’m not saying, “Well, if even the therapist isn’t fully healed then what’s the point?” I actually believe the opposite.

I think healing begins the moment we stop chasing perfection.

Healing is not becoming some polished, endlessly regulated, enlightened version of yourself. It is not transcending your humanity. It is not achieving a flawless nervous system or never getting triggered again.

Healing is acceptance.

It is authenticity.

It is letting go of the exhausting fight to become someone “better enough” to deserve peace.

It is learning how to be with yourself now — in this moment, in this body, in this imperfect life — with compassion, humility, honesty, and love.

Lately, I’ve felt increasingly frustrated with both the therapy world and the spiritual healing world because I see so much emphasis on what we should be doing.

You should wake up earlier. You should meditate more. You should regulate faster. You should manifest better. You should think more positively. You should eat cleaner. You should optimize your morning routine. You should heal quicker.

Honestly? Keep your shoulds to yourself.

Sometimes I want to yell that directly at the ads that find me after I do the thing I tell myself I don’t want to do — scroll social media after posting something vulnerable.

The polished reels. The perfect branding. The filtered spirituality. The subtle messaging that if you are still struggling, still sensitive, still dysregulated sometimes, then you must be doing healing wrong.

And I hate what that messaging does to people.

I hate it for my clients. I hate it for my friends.And some days, I hate it for myself too.

The truth is, I don’t feel especially comfortable in the social media realm. If I’m being honest, I wish I could simply reach people through word of mouth and authentic connection alone. But this is the world we live in now, and trying to “keep up” comes at a cost.

I am sensitive.

And most days, I’m okay with that.

It’s only when I fall down the rabbit hole of endless curated posts that my sensitivity suddenly starts to feel like a burden instead of a strength.

But I’m beginning to understand something important:

My sensitivity is not weakness.

It is part of what allows me to sit with people deeply. To notice subtle shifts. To care fiercely. To feel alongside others instead of above them.

Yes, it can make this world harder to navigate sometimes. But it also makes me strong.

This is why I often show up online without a polished look. It’s why I sometimes swear in sessions because my filter occasionally breaks. It’s why I openly admit that I get dysregulated when I hear about people being harmed while simply trying to get help or trying to help others.

I’m not interested in performing perfection for anyone anymore.

I’m interested in being real.

I once had a client ask me, somewhat sarcastically but also sincerely, if I spent all day meditating when I wasn’t working. She asked if I ate kale constantly and had perfect relationships with my family and friends.

Underneath her question was pain.

She wanted me to have all the answers. She wanted to believe someone existed who had finally “done healing correctly.”

So instead of brushing it off, I invited her into the conversation.

We talked honestly about perfectionism and how often it’s born from trauma. Because if everything is perfect, maybe nothing bad can happen. Maybe we can finally feel safe.

But perfection is not reality.

The real work is learning how to love ourselves and one another where we actually are.

Not where we “should” be.

I admitted to her that I had snapped at my son that morning over something silly and later apologized to him with sincerity and love.

She laughed softly.

I told her I try to meditate consistently, but sometimes my nervous system wants reality TV binges instead — and I’ve stopped shaming myself for that too.

We talked about our favorite shows and laughed together.

Then I shared that I had struggled with addiction in my past and that it took many attempts — truly many — before I felt healthier and more in control of my life.

She looked shocked at first.

Then relieved.

Because addiction was the deepest source of shame she carried.

Hearing that someone she viewed as “healed” had struggled too suddenly made her own healing feel possible.

Achievable.

Human.

I think about that moment often — sitting together on a couch in an old office I still miss sometimes.

That moment is what I want for all of us.

More softening.

Less performing.

Less comparison.

Less shame.

And far less perfectionism disguised as healing.

Please try not to let polished social media posts, Canva graphics, curated spirituality, or carefully branded “wellness” content convince you that you are behind.

You are not behind.

You are human.

And maybe that was never something that needed fixing in the first place.