Serve to Heal: The Day I Stopped Shrinking—and Started Giving Back From My Scars

thewayofthewiseowl
Dec 1, 2025
6 min read

How many times have you swallowed your truth to keep the peace—and called it love?

I’m not asking that as a cute “think about it” question. I’m asking because I lived it. For years.

I was the peacemaker. The one who “understood.” The one who could read a room like a survival skill and adjust myself to fit inside it. I knew how to soften my tone, lower my needs, and smile through the ache. I knew how to turn betrayal into “it’s okay.” I knew how to turn disrespect into “they didn’t mean it.” I knew how to turn my own pain into silence.

And people called me loving for it.

But silence doesn’t feel like love when your soul is choking. Silence feels like self-abandonment dressed up as maturity.

I recall a particular moment vividly.

I was seated opposite an individual I valued deeply, someone whose approval I continually sought to obtain. They said something that cut me—not loudly, not dramatically. Just casually. It felt as if my emotions were merely a small disruption to their day. I felt that familiar heat rise in my throat. The words were right there. Ready. Honest. Necessary.

And I swallowed them.

Again.

I watched myself do it in real time. I watched the way my body tensed, my smile tightened, and my truth folded in on itself to keep the peace.

When I got into my car, I didn't cry right away. I sat there, gripping the driving wheel as if bracing for impact. And then it struck me:

I was bleeding quietly to keep people comfortable.

That was the day silence became too heavy to carry. That was the day I realized love without truth is not love. It’s fear. It’s conditioning. It’s survival.

So let me ask you again, not gently this time:

Where have you been quiet when your soul was begging to be heard?

“Serve to Heal” means something simple but life-changing:

Giving back isn’t just something you do for others. It’s something you do for yourself.

It’s the act of taking what hurt you, what broke you, what almost swallowed you—and letting it become medicine. Not because you’re pretending it didn’t hurt. But because you refuse to let pain be the final author of your story.

Serving doesn’t always mean starting a nonprofit or standing on a stage. Sometimes serving looks like:

being honest with someone who needs your truth,
holding space for another person’s grief,
mentoring someone through a storm you survived,
using your voice to name what others are afraid to say.

Service heals because it reconnects you to your purpose. It reminds you that your wounds weren’t wasted. That you’re not just a survivor. You’re a builder now.

Why It Matters

Because suppressed truth doesn’t disappear.

It rots.

When you keep choosing silence over self-respect, you don’t just lose your voice — you lose your identity. You start second-guessing yourself. Shrinking. People-pleasing. Calling crumbs a feast because you’re afraid to ask for the whole meal.

Ignoring your truth affects everything:

Your relationships. You become resentful, distant, and exhausted. Not because you don’t love people — but because you keep erasing yourself to stay connected.
Your mindset. You start believing your needs are “too much,” your feelings are “too sensitive,” your boundaries are “selfish.”
Your body. Anxiety. Tension. Fatigue. That heaviness you can’t explain. Your body keeps the score, even when your mouth stays quiet.

And the worst part?

You teach people how to treat you by what you tolerate in silence.

I’ve coached so many women who say, “I don’t want conflict,” when what they really mean is, “I’m terrified I’ll be abandoned if I’m honest.”

But baby, you’re already abandoning yourself.

My Story / How I Overcame It

I didn’t heal by becoming louder overnight. I healed by becoming truer.

At first, speaking up felt like betrayal.

Betrayal to the version of me who survived by staying small.

Betrayal to the people who benefited from my silence.

But I reached a point where I couldn’t keep living my life like that.

I had spent so long trying to be chosen, loved, and approved of that I realized I was rejecting myself.

One of the most healing shifts for me was this:

My voice isn’t a weapon. It’s a bridge.

A bridge back to myself.

A bridge to honest relationships.

A bridge to the parts of me I buried to be “acceptable.”

And then something even deeper happened.

The more I owned my truth, the more I started seeing how many other people were drowning quietly too. People who didn’t need a savior—they needed a mirror.

So I began serving from that place.

Not from perfection.

From scar tissue.

From lived experience.

I started writing what I wish someone had said to me.

Coaching women through the exact rooms I once couldn’t breathe in.

Speaking the truths I used to swallow.

And every time I served someone else with honesty, I healed another layer of myself.

Because service did what silence never could:

It turned my pain into purpose.

Key takeaway?

Your healing isn’t selfish. It’s contagious.

When you get free, you give other people permission to breathe too.

How-To Guide

Here’s how you can start working on this, right now, where you are:

Name where you’ve been silencing yourself.

Sit with it. Don’t rush past it. Ask:

“Where am I editing myself to be loved?”
Tell the truth to yourself first.

Before you speak to anyone else, be honest in private.

Journal it. Cry it. Admit it.

Your truth doesn’t need witnesses to be real.
Start small, but start.

You don’t have to jump into the hardest conversation first.

Practice saying:
“That didn’t sit right with me.”
- “I need a moment.”
- “Here’s what I actually feel.”
Serve from your scar, not your wound.

And some healing happens first. Then ask:

“Who needs what I’ve learned?”

Share with one person. Post one truth. Mentor one girl.

Healing multiplies through giving.
Expect discomfort—not regret.

Speaking up may feel shaky. Service may feel vulnerable.

That’s normal. New ways of living always feel unfamiliar at first.

But regret? This feeling comes from staying silent for too long.
Choose alignment over approval.

Approval is addictive.

Alignment is freedom.

Ask daily:

“Am I living to be liked, or living to be true?”

Benefits/Pros and Cons

Benefits of serving to heal:

You stop seeing your pain as a life sentence and start seeing it as a lesson.
You build confidence rooted in truth, not performance.
You attract relationships that can handle the real you.
You feel purpose again—not because life got perfect, but because you got honest.
You help others without losing yourself.

Cons/Challenges (and how to overcome them):

It can feel scary at first.

Because silence is your safety.

Overcome this challenge by starting small and celebrating your progress.
Some people may not appreciate the new version of yourself.

They preferred that you remain quiet and convenient.

Overcome it by remembering that losing false peace creates space for genuine peace.
You might doubt your worthiness.

“Who am I to help anyone?”

Overcome it by realizing people don’t need your perfection—they need your truth.

Conclusion

IIf you’ve been quiet enough to survive, I get it.

Silence was a strategy.

A shield.

A This is a way to maintain connections with people who were unable to be honest with you.

But listen:

You don’t heal by hiding. YYou heal by being heard, beginning with yourself.

SHelping others with what you’ve survived doesn’t make your pain disappear.

It makes your pain matter.

It rewrites the meaning of what tried to break you.

So here’s your journal call to action for today:

“Where have I been quiet when my soul was begging to be heard?”

Sit with that.

Answer it honestly.

AThen, take one brave step toward your truth.

Because your truth doesn’t need permission—it just needs your voice. 🌿

5 Journal Prompts

WWhere have I been shrinking or staying quiet to avoid conflict or rejection?
What truth have I been afraid to say—and what has it been costing me?
WWho in my life benefits from my silence, and what are my feelings about that?
How could my story, scars, or lessons serve someone else who feels alone?
What would my life look like if I chose alignment over approval starting today?