This week, instead of our usual Story Work exercise, I'm sharing a reflection on healing. The full read is open to everyone and includes a heart-opening question at the end.
My new book Story Work comes out in November and it’s all about understanding the stories we tell ourselves and the actions needed to reclaim our narratives. In the book, I pen the raw material of my life, and I invite you, the reader, to breathe new life into the stories you carry. I’m so excited to share it with you. And it’s not just for writers—it is for anyone who wants to use writing as a tool for healing and self-discovery.
Later this month, I am offering a sneak peek into the book by way of a new healing intensive. You learn more about it here.

Healing is one of those words that we hear and say a lot, particularly in creative spaces, and we all have our definitions of what it means to us.
When I talk about healing, I’m talking about a creative and holistic approach to well-being that involves reclaiming your authentic wholeness through the alignment of your mind, body, and soul.
What does healing mean to you?
What words come to mind when you think about healing? Is it… an awakening? A transformation? A cure?
Is it a matter of acceptance? Is it forgiveness, or maybe a homecoming?
Is it a mountaintop where you are no longer burdened by the pain of past experiences and unmet needs?
Is it a winding journey of yellow brick roads and spiral staircases leading to happy-ever-afters and dreams coming true?
Maybe you envision a future version of yourself, free of the insecurities and patterns that hold you back today.
Many people romanticize the idea of being healed, but overlook the complexity involved and the fact that healing is a lifelong practice, not a destination.
I think back to moments when my kids were young and I was struggling with my mental health, motherhood, relationship, career—all of it.
This was early in my healing journey when I was starting to have an intellectual understanding of my unresolved issues, but was still far from embodying any real change in how I lived.
I was trapped in a time loop, where you relive the same painful patterns over and over until you figure out the lesson and break the cycle.
I didn’t think I had the strength to change.
I envisioned a dangerous quest with dead ends and trap doors, a maze with no guarantee of making it out alive.
I saw myself at the edge of a cliff leaning into a trust fall, only to plummet through the air, hit the ground, and disappear.
I had a defeated mindset, so I thought:
I fail at everything else, so I will probably fail at healing, too.
At the time, when I talked about healing, I was talking about a sudden awakening, a transformation, a cure. I was talking about an a-ha moment that led to a radical shift, a fully formed miracle that liberated me from past experiences and the pain of unmet needs.
Healing seemed possible for others but not for me.
But beyond my fear and confusion, a gentle presence lingered.
Hope.
And it called me to the page.
Writing made me feel like healing was possible—even for me.
It made me feel like, okay, maybe this is a way that I can face the things I’ve been running from and not only make it out alive but make it out whole, without abandoning parts of myself like I’d been doing all my life.
Soon, when I talked about healing, I was talking about writing.
I was gradually facing what I’d been running from, no longer with judgment, but with love.
By giving myself permission to write my truth, I discovered healing through expression—something that generational silence had taken from me. Healing that began on the page and slowly transformed the way I live my life.
I once thought of healing as having this aesthetic lifestyle to show for it. Now I know that healing is messy work.
There are no shortcuts or VIP lines. Pretending won’t bring you peace. Praise won’t fill your empty places. Energy doesn’t lie.
To know what these abstract words like healing, wholeness, and growth really mean, you have to get inside of them.
When I talk about healing, I’m talking about no longer pressing on the same wound over and over to see if it still hurts. No longer telling myself that I’m “over it” simply because I know how to hide the damage and numb the ache.
When I talk about healing, I’m talking about finding new meaning in old experiences. I’m talking about reclaiming my story.
This is what Story Work is all about.
Being honest with yourself about where you’ve been, where you are, and where you want to be.
Rediscovering who you were before you believed you weren’t enough.
Embracing the broken pieces as sacred parts of your becoming.
Collecting the tools and support you need to face what’s behind you and what lies ahead.
I invite you to join me in this reflection by sharing in the comments:
What does healing mean to you?
Related:
The first Story Work Healing Intensive cohort will take place from May 21 - June 25. If you are interested in joining us, you can learn more and register here.
Healing begins when honesty is aligned compassion.
Also, it’s important to stay true yourself when trying to heal.