In the documentary The Wisdom of Trauma, Dr. Gabor Maté reframes trauma not as a rare affliction, but as a universal experience — one that disconnects us from our true selves. He doesn’t offer a cure. He offers something more radical: the idea that healing is possible, not by erasing pain, but by embracing it. By listening to it. By letting it guide us back to who we were before the world taught us to hide.

That message hit me hard. Because five years ago, I was someone else entirely.

 The Bruteful Journey

I’m not the same person I was five years ago. The journey has been bruteful — both brutal and beautiful. There were days I didn’t think I’d make it. Days when grief felt like it might swallow me whole. Days when betrayal cracked me open in ways I didn’t know I could survive.

But I did. And not because I had a plan or a perfect support system. I survived because I refused to give up on myself.

People ask me how I healed. My answer is simple: I didn’t stop showing up for myself.

And I want to be clear — who I was back then wasn’t bad. I was doing the best I could with what I had. I was living in survival mode, not with intention or meaning. I people-pleased. I over-functioned. I tried to earn love by being useful, agreeable, and never too much.

But healing taught me that I don’t have to shrink to be safe. I don’t have to hustle to be worthy. I don’t have to be who others expect me to be.

I stopped defining my worth by my productivity. I stopped chasing validation. I started believing in my own ability to become whole — not perfect, not polished, but whole.

I allowed myself to cry. To scream. To rage. I let the grief move through me like a storm. And slowly, the storm began to clear.

I stopped letting other people define who I was. I started defining myself — and more importantly, I started believing it.

 Gender and Healing: Different Wounds, Shared Humanity

Healing looks different for everyone — but gender conditioning can shape how we suffer and how we heal.

Many men are taught not to feel. They’re told that emotions are weakness, that their worth is tied to what they produce, achieve, or control. So they suppress. They numb. They disconnect. But this only delays their healing. Because what’s buried doesn’t disappear — it waits.

Many women are taught to hold everything together. To be the glue in relationships, families, communities. To carry emotional labor quietly and endlessly. But this pressure to hold it all together can cause them to break. Because no one can carry everything and still stay whole.

The most beautiful thing we can do is support each other. To share our vulnerabilities. To say, “Me too.” To stop performing strength and start practicing truth.

Healing is not gendered. It’s human.

 What Healing Feels Like

Healing doesn’t come with a certificate. It doesn’t announce itself with fireworks. It whispers.

You begin to notice less inner turmoil and more inner peace. You stop reaching for things outside yourself to self-soothe — whether it’s substances, distractions, or validation. You start turning inward, trusting your own presence.

You stop abandoning yourself.

You begin to feel safe in your own body. You begin to feel like home.

 What the Research Says

Science backs this up. Healing is dynamic, layered, and deeply personal:

• Trauma recovery is nonlinear: According to the National Center for PTSD, healing often involves setbacks, reprocessing, and evolving strategies. Progress isn’t always visible — but it’s happening.

• Post-traumatic growth is real: Many people emerge from trauma with deeper empathy, stronger relationships, and a renewed sense of purpose. Growth doesn’t erase pain — it transforms it.

• Neuroplasticity gives us hope: The brain can rewire itself through therapy, mindfulness, and connection. This means healing is always possible, even after long-term suffering.

• Resilience is built, not born: The American Psychological Association emphasizes that resilience can be cultivated through relationships, self-awareness, and meaning-making.

 A Reflection for You

If you’re in the middle of it right now — if it feels bruteful — know this:

You are not broken. You are becoming.

Healing isn’t about returning to who you were before. It’s about becoming someone new. Someone who carries their story with grace. Someone who knows their worth isn’t defined by what they produce, but by who they are.

 Final Thought

Healing is not a finish line. It’s a path you walk — one breath, one choice, one moment at a time. And every step you take is a victory.

So rage. Cry. Scream. Let the grief move through you. Let it transform you.

Because you’re not just surviving. You’re becoming.

And when we support each other through that becoming — when we share our truths instead of hiding them — we don’t just heal ourselves.

We heal the world.