The Myth of Healing: Reclaiming Wholeness in a Culture That Pathologizes Being Human
You Don’t Need to Be Healed to Be Whole
There’s a quiet exhaustion that comes from always trying to be better. For many of us, self-awareness has become a second language. We know our triggers, our attachment styles, our nervous system states. We journal, we reflect, we breathe through discomfort. And still, there’s this lingering sense that something’s not quite done. That we’re not quite there. That if we could just unlock one more insight, or fix one more wound, we’d finally arrive at peace.
But what if that feeling—that subtle, constant chase for wholeness—isn’t proof that you’re still broken? What if it’s the result of a cultural ideal that keeps shifting the finish line?
That’s the core of what led me to write The Myth of Healing.
I didn’t set out to write another self-help book. Frankly, I think we already have too many. I set out to write something different: a psychologically informed reflection on what happens when “healing” becomes a performance, a product, or a prerequisite for self-worth. A book for people who are tired of being a project. A book that tells the truth—not because it’s edgy or disruptive, but because the truth is gentler than the promises we’ve been sold.
The Performance of Healing
We live in a culture that frames emotional health as an individual pursuit with measurable outcomes. We hear phrases like “do the work,” “show up fully,” “regulate your nervous system,” and “heal your inner child” so often that we forget these are metaphors. Healing has become a language we all speak—but we rarely stop to ask what it’s actually for.
At some point, the pursuit of healing stops being about freedom and starts being about performance. We learn to present ourselves as emotionally literate, trauma-informed, and always evolving. But under the surface, many people feel more anxious than ever. They worry they’re not doing enough. They feel ashamed for still being reactive, sad, confused, or human. They worry that their pain is proof of personal failure.
The Myth of Healing explores that dynamic—not to dismiss therapy, growth, or emotional work, but to ask why we’ve come to expect it to “fix” us in the first place.
What the Book Is (and Isn’t)
This is not a guidebook. There are no checklists, no ten steps, no toolkit. It’s not a rejection of healing practices or a manifesto against therapy. In fact, much of the book draws from psychological research, trauma theory, identity studies, and years of teaching and listening to others try to make sense of themselves.
But it is a challenge. A challenge to the assumption that emotional progress must always look clean. A challenge to the belief that clarity is the goal. A challenge to the idea that there’s some ideal version of you waiting on the other side of enough effort.
Each chapter of The Myth of Healing takes a belief we’ve absorbed about self-growth and flips it over:
Healing is not the goal.
The idea of arriving at emotional closure can keep us trapped in constant self-monitoring and self-judgment.Trauma is not identity.
Honoring our pain is powerful—but becoming it can limit who we’re allowed to be next.Triggers are not danger.
Discomfort and unsafety are not the same thing. Learning the difference can change everything.Wholeness includes wounds.
You don’t need to erase your brokenness to be real. You don’t need to be polished to be present.
Each chapter is written to help the reader pause, reflect, and feel less alone—not just in their pain, but in their confusion, complexity, and contradictions.
Why This Book Matters Now
We are living through what could be called the age of emotional fluency. Therapy-speak is common on social media. Words like “boundaries,” “trauma,” and “regulation” have become part of everyday language. That’s not inherently bad—but it comes with a cost.
When we turn emotional concepts into cultural currency, we risk flattening them. “Triggered” becomes a synonym for uncomfortable. “Healing” becomes a goalpost. “Work” becomes a lifestyle. And over time, we start to measure ourselves against how complete we feel.
The result? People feel stuck. Not because they’re doing it wrong—but because they’ve been taught that emotional success is supposed to feel like resolution. And life, by its nature, doesn’t resolve. It unfolds.
The Myth of Healing offers a space to step back from all that noise. Not to deny the value of growth, but to make room for a different kind of relationship to it—one that includes imperfection, contradiction, and unfinishedness.
Who the Book Is For
This book is for the person who has done the work and still feels like something is missing. For the one who left therapy not because it failed, but because they didn’t want to keep pathologizing their humanity. For the reader who is skeptical of healing culture but still longs for relief. For those who feel like they should be further along by now, but secretly suspect that “there” doesn’t exist.
It’s also for people who believe in healing, but not in perfection. People who are ready to stop chasing a final version of themselves and start building a life that can hold all their parts—including the messy ones.
You don’t need to be healed to be in relationship. You don’t need to be calm to be competent. You don’t need to feel finished to be free.
What Readers Will Take Away
By the time someone reaches the last page, I hope they feel more grounded—not because they’ve solved something, but because they’ve softened something. I hope they stop asking, “When will I be healed?” and start asking, “How can I live honestly in this moment, as I am?”
Some of the key takeaways readers can expect:
A new relationship to pain, not built on fixing, but on integration
A reframing of emotional language—without jargon or judgment
Permission to be both growing and still hurting
A release from the idea that healing must be constant, linear, or visible
A sense of relief: you’re not behind, you’re not broken, and you’re not alone
Final Thoughts
We don’t need more books that tell people how to be fixed. We need books that tell people they’re not broken. That being alive, alert, and affected is not a flaw in the system—it is the system.
The Myth of Healing doesn’t promise transformation. It offers something quieter and, I believe, more sustainable: presence. Permission. And a reorientation toward the idea that your worth has never depended on your progress.
You’re allowed to be unfinished. You’re allowed to hurt and still be lovable. You’re allowed to show up messy, conflicted, tired, brilliant, and uncertain. That’s not a failure of the healing process—it’s evidence that you’re human.
And that, finally, might be enough.