Once upon a time, punk was ripped jeans, safety pins, and middle fingers in the air. It was raw. Loud. Messy. Unapologetic. It was about refusing to be told how to exist.

There’s a new war raging in the land of healing - the trauma-informed war.And surprise, surprise, the battlefield looks just like all the others:

Well, here we are. After months of pulling apart the healing-industrial complex, dismantling labels, calling out narcs, and laughing at “high-vibe” nonsense, I’ve got one thing left to say:

We spend too long waiting.

We’re drowning in diagnosis culture. Not the professional, evidence-based kind, but the pop-psych, TikTok, meme-based version where everyday human behaviour is rebranded as abuse or toxic behaviour.

Let’s get one thing straight: I’m not broken. And neither are you.But the healing industry? Yeah — that’s a different story.Somewhere along the line, healing became a trap.You start with a journal. Add a little breathwork. Maybe some attachment theory and a sprinkle of inner child meditations. And before you know it, you’re in a full-time relationship with your trauma while life waits in the corner, arms crossed, bored to death.I used to think I was making progress. Turns out, I was just getting better at performing my pain. Better at naming my wounds. Better at existing in a state of self-examination.But living? Not so much.