Spiritual Lip Gloss & the Ache for Something Real

Today, I want to speak from a raw edge—the place between truth and trying. Between the performance of healing and the kind that finds you when you’re not looking.

This isn’t a how-to. This isn’t a map. This is a tracing—of my voice, your voice, and the places where we’ve mistaken performance for presence.

So take a breath.

Let yourself soften.

And if you’re here, maybe your body has already been whispering the truth:

Where do I try to be healed, instead of letting healing happen?

There have been times I thought I was healing, when in truth…

I was performing it.

I said the affirmations. I did the rituals. I journaled under the moonlight, lit the candles, bought the courses.

But underneath all of it?

I was just trying to be acceptable. Trying to be seen as someone who had it together.

Trying to make sure no one saw the parts of me still bleeding.

Because I thought healing had to look a certain way.

There’s a particular exhaustion that comes from performing your healing. It’s not physical fatigue—it’s soul-tiredness.

The kind that creeps into your voice when you’re pretending to be okay.

It wasn’t until I started noticing the quiet ache underneath all the rituals that I realized:

I was performing safety. Not building it.

I once read in Don Jose Ruiz’s book, The Medicine Bag, that we are addicted to our own suffering. That we are the only creatures on this planet who reject ourselves.

When I read that, something broke open in me.

Because I’d spent years trying to heal, but really?

I was just trying to be less unacceptable.

Trying to curate my pain. Trying to follow the script.

Trying to look awakened without actually unraveling.

Ruiz writes, “The journey out of suffering is one of true awakening.”

And true awakening?

It’s not branded. It’s not trending.

It doesn’t announce itself.

It doesn’t promise a glow-up.

True awakening is inconvenient. It’s wild. It’s slow.

And most days, it doesn’t feel good—because real healing often comes dressed as grief.

Here’s the part that gets skipped in so many spaces:

If your body doesn’t feel safe, healing can’t happen.

Not fully.

You can talk about it. You can read about it. But if your nervous system is still on high alert… all those practices just become more noise.

Performative healing skips this part.

It jumps to the light without sitting in the shadow.

It teaches us to look like we’re okay—instead of tending to the places that still tremble.

If you enjoyed this blog post, then check out the podcast episode where I go into more detail and even offer a few tools. Episode 27 on Mindfully Disruptive, the podcast.