Why Self-Awareness Matters in Healing and Wellbeing Practice
Patterns formed over time
— a reminder that change is gradual, layered, and embodied.
As much as I value theory and the compelling outcomes promised by many wellbeing approaches, I am also deeply aware that we are human before anything else: shaped by personal histories, emotions, and long-established patterns. How we feel, and the landscape of our inner world, profoundly influences our ability to change and to sustain that change over time.
The idea that health can be achieved simply by changing one behaviour; for example, diet, is an appealing shortcut. Yet it often feels as magical and unrealistic as a Grimm fairy tale. Many of us have tried countless diet plans, perhaps losing a few pounds along the way, only to return to the same place again and again. This pattern alone suggests that healing rarely operates at the surface level.
I believe that meaningful change needs to be deeper. In many ways, I am my own first client: my closest point of observation and exploration. I understand the theory, the recommendations, and the physiological principles that support health. Yet translating that knowledge into daily practice is far more complex. Years of ingrained habits, emotional coping mechanisms, and embodied experiences are not undone quickly or neatly.
I am often inspired by beautifully curated images and videos of movement, nutrition, and healing shared online. They offer hope, but they do not always reflect lived reality. How do we move when the body is in pain? How do we change eating patterns when food is closely tied to comfort, regulation, and emotional safety? These are not questions of motivation alone; they are questions of nervous system, history, and meaning.
When we study biomedicine, the body is often presented as a collection of systems, functioning like a finely tuned machine. Yet the mind, emotions, and nervous system are inseparable from this picture. We now understand the significance of connections such as the gut–brain axis, and how deeply interwoven physical and emotional processes truly are.
Over the past year, I have learned that many pioneers in the naturopathic field began by attempting to heal themselves. Interestingly, the same pattern appears in counselling and psychotherapy. The desire to support others often emerges from a more personal inquiry: a need to understand, to repair, or to make sense of one’s own experience.
Engaging with this process personally has allowed me to encounter the very challenges my future clients may face. Moving through uncertainty, resistance, and discomfort has deepened my awareness of how complex change can be. Whether this will make me a better practitioner is not something I can state with certainty, but I hope it will allow me to meet others with greater humility, patience, and realism.
This reflection also brings into focus the distinction between empathy and sympathy. One does not need to live the same experiences to be empathic, but self-awareness strengthens our capacity to listen without projecting, rescuing, or diminishing another’s voice. My journey is not someone else’s journey, and recognising that boundary is essential.
I am grateful for the counselling path I am undertaking, as it continues to shape my self-awareness and helps establish healthy professional boundaries. Learning to discern what belongs to me, and what belongs to others, feels foundational: not only to my own wellbeing, but to the integrity of my future practice.
Reference note
This reflection is informed by contemporary understandings of mind–body integration, including research on the gut–brain axis and trauma-informed practice, as well as humanistic and naturopathic approaches that emphasise self-awareness, nervous system regulation, and the role of lived experience in healing. It also reflects principles explored within counselling training and naturopathic education, where reflective practice is considered central to ethical and effective care.
