There’s a quiet belief woven through a lot of wellness spaces that says:
Before you help others, you should already be healed.
Fully healed. Fully regulated. Fully evolved.
As if human struggle automatically disqualifies someone from offering support, insight, or care.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, especially while creating guided meditations.
Oddly enough, one of the hardest parts hasn’t been recording them. It’s been knowing that people who already know me might listen to them.
People who know:
- I still get overwhelmed sometimes
- I still struggle with migraines
- I still have anxious days and emotional reactions
- I am still actively learning how to care for myself well
There’s a vulnerable feeling in that.
A part of me that quietly wonders:
“If people know I’m still human, will they see me as less credible?”
And I don’t think I’m alone in that thought.
I think many people who feel called to help others wrestle with the idea that they must first become flawless versions of themselves before they’re allowed to share what they’ve learned.
But lately, I’ve started questioning whether perfection was ever the point.
Part of that vulnerability comes from the fact that I don’t always look like the stereotypical image of someone in wellness spaces.
I’m not someone doing intense yoga flows every morning or consistently making it to the gym. In many seasons of life, I’ve actually been fairly sedentary, especially while navigating migraines, stress, nervous system dysregulation, and burnout.
And I’ve carried guilt around that.
A quiet feeling of: “If I truly embodied these teachings, wouldn’t my habits look more disciplined?”
But I’m starting to realize embodiment is not the same thing as perfection or optimization.
Sometimes embodiment looks less like performing wellness and more like listening honestly.
- Like realizing my body needs gentle movement instead of intensity.
- Like sitting on the mat and intuitively stretching instead of forcing a full routine.
- Like noticing when I’m disconnected from myself and returning slowly, without punishment.
That still counts. Maybe especially then.
Not to mention how some of the people who have helped me most in life were not people who seemed untouchable or above struggle.
They were people who:
- practiced what they shared
- stayed honest about being human
- kept returning to themselves with compassion instead of performance
That kind of support feels different. Safer, somehow. More real.
I’m realizing there’s a difference between:
- pretending to have everything figured out
and - genuinely practicing the things you teach
So I say it again: “One is performance. The other is embodiment.”
And maybe what people actually need isn’t more polished perfection.
Maybe they need more examples of what it looks like to:
- stay grounded while still unfinished
- care for yourself while still healing
- continue practicing even on difficult days
Not because you’ve mastered being human. But because you haven’t given up on returning to yourself.
That feels far more sustainable to me than perfection ever did.
And honestly, far more trustworthy too.
