Why I’m Done With “Healing”
There’s a version of me that used to think that healing meant arriving somewhere. One day, if I “did the work” I’d get to some earned landing place where I’d finally be allowed to exhale. Where my wholeness would be obvious, and I’d want for nothing. I worked with alternative therapies, attended plant medicine ceremonies, took new-age courses, consulted coaches and astrologers, on and on...
It took a while to realize that so much of my desire to heal was wrapped up in a fantasy of spiritual perfectionism. One that was mirrored to me through the social media of capitalistic spiritual elites, wellness influencers, healers, coaches– the curated optics of clarity.
But I’m not here to admonish the modalities, the mentors, or the seekers; I’m interested in unraveling something subtler– the fantasy that can creep in underneath the healing work: the belief that if I kept working on myself, I’d earn the life that feels like mine, finally.
Eventually, “healing” felt like a job I didn’t remember applying for but felt responsible to do well, really well, all the time. And I began to see the theatre in it all; that I wasn’t really “healing,” I was performing to earn worth and safety.
When I was caught in “healing”, I felt:
Shame for not being “better” yet
Addicted to being validated or reflected
Stuck waiting for the next “breakthrough” to take action
Pressure to perform as my “highest self”
Righteousness toward people not “doing the work”
Guilt for resting
Self-abandonment in the name of peace
And here’s how I’ve seen these feelings play out:
Healing becomes identity: You become “the one who is healing” It subtly reinforces that you’re not there yet. You build a new identity that looks conscious, but still hides [the whole] you.
Growth becomes performance: You believe you’re only lovable when you’re improving. You imagine a future self who’s shiny and healed, and struggle to accept yourself for not being there yet.
Knowledge of self is outsourced: You hire people who symbolize your next step in healing. You contort to fit their method and override your truth in doing so.
Rituals become armor: You check the boxes—meditate, journal, cold plunge—but spiral when you stop. Your “safety” becomes dependent on structure, discipline, and control. You’re always doing more to prove yourself.
The ‘human’ is bypassed: Insight becomes akin to an addiction. You name everything a lesson or mirror and float above what aches. You process more than you embody. You reject that grief, exhaustion, doubt, confusion- what are often referred to as “low vibe states”- are sacred, too.
It’s not that the desire to heal is wrong– it’s the performance of it that becomes exhausting. And this is why I divest– because worth through progress is not indicative of a healed person; it’s a capitalist mirage.
What does “healed” even mean, really?
And where the fuck are we trying to get to, when we can only ever arrive here?
Maybe the ache that leads us to healing isn’t a flaw to fix, but a sensation to welcome home, again and again. And not because it’s impressive, or ascended, but because it’s honest, and life can be fucking brutal.
A wise friend told me:
We spend our lives layering on identities to feel safe, accepted, and in control.
But healing isn’t becoming someone else.
It’s peeling those layers off and returning to the part of us that’s alive, inexplicable, already whole.
That’s all I’m really after: me, unmasked, again and again, with everything to feel and nothing left to perform.