The Path to Healing

As a clinician, the path to healing is not just one I guide others through, but one that I walk myself every day. It's a journey that has taken me from a place of struggle and hardship to one of stability and success, both personally and professionally. However, along the way, I've come to realize that healing is a complex and ongoing process, and that it's not always a linear journey.

There are moments when I feel like I've "made it." I look at my successful private practice, reflect on the years of hard work I put in from a very young age, and feel a sense of pride in how far I've come. I remember the days when I had to hop the turnstile (because I could barely afford my rent, never mind pay for public transit) and contrast them with my current life in Berkeley, where I can provide for my family without the constant fear of financial instability. Professionally, I feel like I'm coasting through, enjoying the fruits of my labor.

However, there are moments when I’m triggered and my body responds before my mind can catch up. I feel heat rise in my chest, muscles tightening, anger welling up from a deep place. It’s a familiar surge, one that pulls me back to younger versions of myself who had to stay alert, defend themselves, and survive. In those moments, I wonder whether I’m touching old scars or stepping into something genuinely unsafe. I question whether this is regression or simply my nervous system doing what it was trained to do: protect me when something feels threatening, even if the threat isn’t physical anymore.

This intensity of the fight impulse can make me want to yell, gesture big, or push back forcefully. The urge to react is so overwhelming that I find myself immediately reflecting on the thin line between toxic expression and authentic self-protection. Part of me asks whether that’s wrong or whether it’s a natural instinct rising to defend my boundaries. I sit with the tension between honoring my body’s alarm system and choosing how to express it. I ask myself: Is my anger signaling real danger, or an old danger being reactivated? What does it look like to let myself feel the full heat of rage without reenacting harm? These questions live inside me, not because I’m “unhealed,” but because my body remembers and because protecting myself, then and now, has always mattered.

As a clinician, I understand the complexity of these emotions. I know that anger is a natural response to pain and that it's crucial to acknowledge and process it. I know that sometimes “fight” is an essential recipe to create safety. I also recognize the importance of channeling it in a constructive way, without causing harm to others or myself. It's a delicate balance, one that requires self-awareness, self-control, and empathy.

I've come to realize that healing is not about erasing the scars of the past but about learning to live with them and finding healthy ways to cope with the triggers that come my way. It's about acknowledging that vulnerability and pain are part of the human experience and that it's okay to feel them. And yes, sometimes, react to it. In even the messiest ways. It's about understanding that self-expression is important, but it should be tempered with mindfulness and compassion.

In my journey as a clinician, I've learned that healing is hard, but it's also incredibly rewarding. It's a journey of self-discovery, growth, and acceptance, and it's one that I continue to navigate with humility and an open heart. As I guide others through their healing processes, I'm reminded that we are all works in progress, and that it's okay to be imperfect, as long as we strive to be better versions of ourselves every day. The work, as I remind both my clients and myself, is simply to keep navigating the mess with humility and grace.