My Personal Tell for True Healing

There's something I pay attention to when I'm listening to someone talk about healing—a personal compass that helps me distinguish between surface-level recovery and genuine transformation. I'm not talking about high-functioning avoidance or simply quoting some peaceful mantras. I mean full integration, when pain no longer drives someone's choices and they're not just talking about peace—they're genuinely carrying it.

One of the clearest ways this reveals itself is in how people handle other people's pain. Those who think they've healed often still carry fear of what hurt them, and that fear shows up in their desperate attempts to protect others from similar experiences. But those who've truly made it through the fire don't flinch when others are walking toward their own flames. They don't rush to shield, sanitize, or save because they know what's waiting on the other side.

When Protection Becomes Fear in Disguise

I used to shield everything and everyone. I'm wired as a protector by design—loyal, intense, built to take the hit before it lands on someone I love. For most of my life, I saw this as pure strength. I'd step in to fix situations, soften blows for my kids, partners, even strangers who reminded me of old wounds.

But here's what I understand now: that wasn't just love. That was fear wearing a noble mask. I hadn't made peace with what pain had made of me yet, so I couldn't imagine letting someone else face similar trials. When you haven't integrated your own pain, you'll unconsciously rob others of their right to transform theirs into wisdom.

The Shift That Changed Everything

Over years of experience, something began to shift. I stopped trying to rescue people from their fires and started questioning why I thought they couldn't survive them. A call from deep in my spirit said: "You're not here to save anyone. You're just standing in the way of their becoming."

This hit hardest when it came to my children. I used to believe my job was protecting them from everything I had survived—heartbreak, chaos, betrayal, the kind of pain that makes you question who you are. Now I see it differently. If some of those experiences are part of their path, I don't want to block them. I want to walk beside them, holding space rather than shielding them from growth.

I know what my pain gave me: clarity, power, softness without fragility, and stillness in storms that used to devastate me. Why would I deny them the same opportunity to become who they're meant to be?

How to Spot Unintegrated Pain

I notice it in others now, often before they do. They say all the right things about having done the work and being grounded, using evolved language that sounds wise. But the moment you suggest letting others walk their own path through difficulty, something shifts. They tense up, get defensive, try to redirect or save.

What looks like wisdom is often avoidance dressed in spiritual vocabulary. What sounds like compassion is frequently someone trying to prevent others from feeling what they still haven't made peace with themselves.


From Revolution to Creation

There's another pattern I've recognized. People still carrying wounds often need to revolt, tear everything down, rage against systems that confined them. For a while, this rebellion feels like freedom and serves an important purpose in the healing process.

But eventually, you stop needing to prove you're not in the cage and start living like you're already free. That's where I am now—not trying to destroy anything, but building quietly and intentionally without needing applause.

If someone still wants their bars, I let them have them out of respect for their journey. I'm creating something else: a system that reflects life in full spectrum, honoring both darkness and light as necessary rather than erasing one or glorifying the other.

Embracing the Full Spectrum

I still see people trying to escape chaos as if it's the enemy of healing, believing peace means control and light is the only safe landing place. But I don't want peace that relies on silence or healing that only exists in sunlight.

In my world, storms are welcome. Hurricanes, betrayal, heartbreak, miracles, clarity, confusion—it all breathes here. Somehow, I still move, smile, and build within this reality. That's not dysfunction; that's balance born from living long enough in both light and darkness to understand their conversation.


When Performance Masks Depth

I've learned to recognize how often we mistake performance for genuine depth. We use sex to feel close when we really want safety, intellect to feel sharp when we're afraid of vulnerability, spirituality to appear surrendered while control still runs the show. Most of this isn't conscious—it's armor shaped like enlightenment.

Real presence doesn't need to posture. Real peace doesn't require announcement. It simply exists: still, rooted, and unshaken by life's inevitable storms.

Trusting Others' Journeys

I don't jump in to fix things like I used to. When someone's walking toward their own fire, I don't panic or try to reroute them. I stay close—not to save them, but to be available if they reach out. If they don't, I trust the fire to do what it's meant to do.

This isn't detachment; it's understanding what transformation actually requires of us. Each person will face their own storms, meet their own silence, and decide what meaning to make of it all. We're not here to control anyone's becoming—we're here to witness it with presence and discernment.

What I Offer Now

If there's anything I offer, it's not a fix, shortcut, or shield. It's simply a compass—one forged through fire, calibrated by pain, tempered by chaos. Some days it still spins, but it always points true.

You don't have to follow it. However, if you're done running from the fire and ready to hear what it's been trying to teach you, I'll stay close. Not to lead or rescue, but to reflect the truth you already carry inside.

When the smoke clears and you're still standing, you'll remember: you were never lost. You were becoming, and the flame you were following was always yours.

Written by Lee Woods

Edited by Lisa Precious

🐦‍🔥🔥⚡EXCITING NEWS ⚡🔥🐦‍🔥

Something powerful is coming to Smiley Blue. We will soon open the doors to The Calibration Container — a tiered, limited-access space where real transformation happens.
This is a space held by both masculine and feminine energy: Lee brings clarity, strategy, and precision, while Lisa brings presence, softness, and nervous system attunement. Together, we hold the fire of transformation with care and accountability.
This isn’t for comfort, or “maybe someday” change. It’s for those ready to release what no longer serves them now, step fully into themselves, and walk their path with clarity, presence, and full commitment.
Keep your eyes open — the invitation is coming, and only those ready to show up will be able to step in.