Have you ever asked yourself, Why am I still stuck?
Why do I feel like I’m going in circles, even after everything I’ve done to heal?
I read the books.
I journaled.
I went to therapy.
And still, parts of me feel raw, like no matter how deep I dig, something remains just out of reach.
Me too!
Then one day, something eased.
Not because I uncovered a new truth about myself,
but because as I witnessed someone elses pain I too felt seen.
And in showing up for them, I found a part of me I hadn’t been able to reach on my own.
I’m a mum. I do things for others every day. But this was different. This was help offered in the very place where I felt pain.
This was healing, full circle.
They were walking through a pain I recognised in my bones. And without even thinking, I offered a little of what had helped me survive. I wasn’t “healed” in the complete sense, but I had gathered a few tools along the way, a few truths. And I knew that just listening, just affirming what they had experienced, would ease their pain.
And here’s the surprising thing: in giving those things away, something in me softened. Settled. Strengthened. And was affirmed, too. Their openness was my closure.
We don’t have to be completely healed before we can help. Maybe helping is part of the healing.
The Secret Medicine of Giving What You’ve Got
There’s an idea in psychology called the Helper Therapy Principle. It means this: when we support someone else, we ourselves benefit. Not in a performative, self-serving way, but in a very human, mutual one.
The simple act of being there for someone, of sharing what helped you, of saying “me too”, can be deeply healing. I think it’s because our pain starts to feel less like a weight and more like a bridge.
A bridge between isolation and connection. Between “no one gets it” and “me too.” When someone else stands in the space we once barely survived, our pain doesn’t disappear, but it transforms.
It becomes something shared. Something useful. Something that says: this hurt me, too, and here’s how I lived through it. And suddenly, the ache we carried alone becomes a path someone else can walk with a little more hope.
When the Wound Makes You Wise
Wounds have a way of teaching us things that ease never could. They strip away illusions, soften our edges, and force us to pay attention, to ourselves, to others, to what really matters.
Pain sharpens perception. It deepens empathy. It teaches you how to sit with someone else’s sorrow without trying to fix it.
Wisdom doesn’t always come from knowing the right answers. It often comes from having lived the hard questions. And those who carry wounds often carry a kind of knowing that cannot be taught, only earned.
If you’ve been through something hard, rejection, loss, betrayal, illness, a season of feeling lost, then you hold wisdom and your presence is needed. You may not even realise it, but your story carries balm. You don’t need a platform, a title, or a degree. Just a small moment of courage to reach out and say ‘I care.’
Okay, But Real Talk…
When you’re in pain, the last thing you want to hear is “you have something to give.” I get it. Some days, brushing your teeth feels like a heroic act.
You’re not here to be anyone’s inspiration.
But this isn’t about fixing anyone.
It’s not about pretending you’re okay when you’re not.
It’s about recognising that even in your hurting,
you still hold a presence that might be enough for someone else to breathe a little easier.
So no pressure. No performance.
Just… don’t forget the ability to hold space for another is still alive in you, even as you heal.
One More Thing…
Don’t underestimate what you carry.
Not the wisdom born from your hardest days,
not the gentleness you’ve learned through breaking,
not the steady way you show up even when your own heart is tired.
We think our offerings have to be extraordinary to count, but the truth is, most people aren’t looking for grand extravagant gestures. They’re looking for real connection. For someone who’s walked through the fire and isn’t afraid to sit in the ashes with them.
Your story, your presence, your scars, they matter. And often, it’s in tending to someone else’s heartbreak that we discover, we’re healing too.
