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Flawed and Still Glorious: The Beauty of Imperfection

  • Writer: Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
    Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
  • May 28

The beauty of imperfection is that it invites us to show up as we are—unfiltered, messy, and deeply real. In a world that pressures us to perform perfection, the beauty of imperfection reminds us that being human is more than enough.

Flawed and Still Glorious: The Beauty of Imperfection

Perfection is a moving target. We think we’ll finally be “enough” when our to-do list is done, our body is different, our emotions are quieter, or our life looks like someone else's curated highlight reel. But here’s the truth: the relentless pursuit of perfection doesn’t bring peace—it steals it.


From a mental health perspective, perfectionism can be a powerful (and painful) illusion. It whispers lies like “You can’t rest until it’s done right,” or “You’ll be loved more if you’re better, thinner, calmer, smarter.” These thoughts feel like facts, but they’re often old stories we’ve inherited from critical parents, high-pressure environments, or a world that markets worthiness like a product.



Fighting the Myths (with Daily Examples)


Let’s untangle a few common myths perfectionism sells us—along with how they show up in everyday life.


  • Myth: “If I make a mistake, people will think less of me.”Reality: Mistakes make us relatable. Example: You forgot your lines during a presentation. You apologized and moved on—but later, a coworker told you it helped her feel less nervous about her own mistakes.


  • Myth: “I should be able to handle everything calmly all the time.”Reality: Emotions are not proof of failure—they're proof you're human. Example: You lost your temper with your child after a long, exhausting day. You apologized and repaired the moment. That taught your child more about love and accountability than pretending to be perfect ever could.


  • Myth: “If I’m not the best, I’ve failed.”Reality: You don’t have to be the best to be valuable. Example: You baked muffins for a school fundraiser, and they came out lopsided. You brought them anyway—and they were the first to disappear.


  • Myth: “If I show my struggles, I’ll be a burden.”Reality: Sharing honestly can deepen connection. Example: You told a friend you’re struggling with anxiety. Instead of pulling away, they thanked you for trusting them and shared their own story.


Perfectionism often disguises itself as high standards, but at its core, it’s fueled by fear—fear of rejection, of failure, of not being worthy. It’s protective, but it’s also limiting. And healing often starts when we stop trying to be perfect and start practicing being present.


The Beauty in the Cracks


There’s a Japanese art form called kintsugi, where broken pottery is repaired with gold. The cracks aren’t hidden—they’re highlighted. Why? Because the flaw becomes part of the story. It becomes something more beautiful than before.


What if we treated ourselves that way?


What if we allowed our tears, scars, stumbles, and awkwardness to be part of our wholeness—not evidence against it?


What if our imperfect selves were already more than enough?



The Mental Health Shift


Replacing perfectionism with self-compassion isn't about lowering standards—it's about shifting the standard to something more real. It's about choosing progress over perfection, connection over comparison, and authenticity over approval.


Here’s one tool to help:Next time an irrational thought creeps in—“I should be better,” or “This isn’t good enough”—try gently asking yourself:


  • “Who told me that?”

  • “What if that’s not true?”


You might be surprised how often the pressure doesn’t even belong to you.


Imperfect, But Fully Alive


  • Burned dinner? You still fed yourself or your family.

  • Missed a deadline? You’re learning to juggle a full plate, not failing.

  • Had a hard parenting day? You’re showing up the best you can—and that's always enough.

  • Said the wrong thing in a conversation? You can repair and grow.


Imperfection isn’t the opposite of beauty—it’s part of it. Your real, raw, messy, unfinished self is not just acceptable. It’s meaningful. It’s powerful. It’s human.


Now Ask Yourself…


What parts of yourself are you still hiding because you think they have to be perfect first?


💬 Ready to start your own healing journey?


Book a session with one of our compassionate therapists at Moody Melon Counseling. We’re here when you’re ready. 🍉



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Wounds Without the War: The Silent Toll of Secondary PTSD

  • Writer: Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
    Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
  • May 26

The toll of Secondary PTSD can be just as heavy as firsthand trauma, especially for caregivers and professionals who carry the emotional weight of others’ pain. Without proper support and boundaries, the toll of Secondary PTSD can quietly erode a person’s well-being, leaving them overwhelmed, disconnected, and emotionally exhausted.

Wounds Without the War: The Silent Toll of Secondary PTSD

You didn’t experience the trauma yourself—but why does it feel like you did?


When we think about Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), we often picture combat veterans, survivors of violence, or those who’ve endured life-threatening events. But trauma doesn't always knock directly on your door. Sometimes, it creeps in through someone else’s—through the stories we absorb, the pain we witness, and the people we love.


This is the world of Secondary PTSD—a quiet, consuming form of trauma that affects those who support, care for, or work closely with people who’ve endured traumatic experiences. And unlike its better-known counterpart, secondary PTSD often goes unspoken, unseen, and untreated.


What Is Secondary PTSD?


Secondary PTSD, also known as vicarious trauma or compassion fatigue, occurs when someone develops trauma-related symptoms as a result of exposure to another person’s trauma. This is commonly seen in mental health professionals, emergency responders, nurses, social workers, and even loved ones of trauma survivors.


Imagine listening, day after day, to heartbreaking stories of abuse, war, loss, or violence. Over time, these stories begin to lodge themselves in your psyche. You might feel anxious, emotionally numb, avoidant, or overly alert. You may start having nightmares or flashbacks—not of your own memories, but of someone else’s suffering.


You’re not weak. You’re not overly sensitive. You’re human—and you’re absorbing more pain than the body or brain was ever meant to carry.



When Caring Hurts


For many, the hardest part of secondary PTSD is the guilt. You might tell yourself: “It wasn’t my trauma. I have no right to feel this way.” But that guilt only deepens the damage.


In fact, studies show that secondary trauma can mirror the symptoms of direct PTSD—including intrusive thoughts, mood swings, hypervigilance, depression, and burnout. Yet many who suffer feel they must push through for the sake of their clients, loved ones, or patients.


This constant emotional labor leads to chronic fatigue, emotional detachment, and a loss of joy—especially in the very work or relationships that once brought purpose.



Self-Care Isn’t a Luxury—It’s Lifesaving


The antidote to secondary trauma isn’t to stop caring—it’s to care for yourself just as fiercely. Self-care in this context goes far beyond bubble baths or days off. It’s about deep, sustainable habits that protect your mental and emotional reserves.


This might look like setting emotional boundaries, getting supervision or consultation, practicing mindfulness, debriefing after difficult sessions, or attending therapy yourself. It’s recognizing when you’re over-capacitated and learning how to step back before burnout takes hold.


Rest, reflection, and regulation are essential—not selfish. They’re what allow you to keep showing up with integrity and compassion, without losing yourself in someone else’s story.


Final Thought:


If you can absorb trauma secondhand, shouldn’t you deserve healing firsthand?


💬 Ready to start your own healing journey?


Book a session with one of our compassionate therapists at Moody Melon Counseling. We’re here when you’re ready. 🍉



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I Know What You Did Last Summer: When the Real Horror Is Trauma Left Untold

  • Writer: Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
    Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
  • May 25
I Know What You Did Last Summer: When the Real Horror Is Trauma Left Untold

At a glance, I Know What You Did Last Summer (1997) is a classic horror flick: a group of teens, a deadly secret, and a relentless killer with a hook. But behind the gore and suspense is a quieter, more haunting story—one about adolescent trauma, unprocessed grief, and the unraveling that happens when young people carry the unbearable alone.


Let’s take a closer look—through the lens of the 12 Core Concepts for Understanding Traumatic Stress Responses in Children and Adolescents, developed by the National Child Traumatic Stress Network (NCTSN). These principles help us understand how deeply trauma affects not only what kids remember—but who they become.


1. Traumatic experiences are inherently subjective.


To an outsider, the teens’ decision to hide the hit-and-run might seem rash, even melodramatic. But trauma isn’t about what “should” hurt—it’s about what does. For Julie, Helen, Barry, and Ray, the event fractured their sense of self and safety. Each teen internalized it differently—some with guilt, some with numbness, others with aggression.


2. Trauma affects the developing brain.


Adolescence is already a time of major neurological and emotional development. Add trauma, and those pathways shift. The characters exhibit signs of hyperarousal (Barry’s rage), emotional withdrawal (Julie’s depression), and fragmented identity (Helen’s decline from pageant queen to invisible daughter). Their behavior reflects the brain’s struggle to adapt to overwhelming stress.


3. Trauma impacts multiple domains of functioning.


Their trauma doesn’t just haunt them emotionally—it affects their school performance, relationships, self-esteem, and decision-making. Julie can’t concentrate. Helen’s dreams collapse. Barry loses control. Ray avoids intimacy. These aren’t personality flaws—they're survival responses.


4. Trauma occurs within a broad ecological context.


The teens don’t exist in a vacuum. Their trauma is compounded by lack of adult support, community silence, and pressure to appear “fine.” No one is truly checking in. No one is holding space. This mirrors the reality for many teens whose pain goes unnoticed in school, home, or peer spaces.



5. Trauma and grief are often intertwined.


The hit-and-run wasn’t just about guilt. It was also about grief—grief for the version of themselves that existed before that night. And when the killings begin, the grief compounds. But without safe space to process it, their mourning is masked by fear, isolation, and panic.


6. Trauma can impact caregiver and peer relationships.


Each teen becomes emotionally disconnected from their families and each other. Where once there was closeness, now there’s mistrust. This mirrors how trauma often disrupts relational safety—especially when the people we need most become the ones we fear or push away.


7. Protective and promotive factors can reduce the impact of trauma.


Unfortunately, the characters in the film have very few protective supports. No trusted adults. No mental health intervention. No emotional scaffolding. In real life, this is what often makes trauma feel inescapable. Kids who have someone safe—a therapist, a teacher, a stable caregiver—are more likely to heal and integrate their experiences.


8. Trauma responses are often attempts at self-protection.


Barry’s aggression, Julie’s numbness, Helen’s detachment—these aren’t dysfunctions. They’re survival strategies. Whether through control, avoidance, or perfectionism, each teen is trying to make sense of a world that no longer feels safe.


9. Culture shapes trauma response and recovery.


In their small coastal town, appearances matter. Reputation, tradition, and silence rule. This social context discourages confession and vulnerability, pushing the teens deeper into secrecy. In many real communities, similar norms prevent young people from reaching out.


10. Trauma exposure can fundamentally alter identity.


Trauma doesn’t just hurt—it changes how teens see themselves. Helen no longer feels beautiful or special. Julie believes she’s “not who she was.” They’ve lost not just their innocence—but their self-concept. This identity shift is one of trauma’s most insidious impacts.


11. Developmental regression is common.


We see this most in the group dynamic: their reliance on impulsive decisions, black-and-white thinking, and power struggles suggests a kind of regression. Trauma can make teens feel much younger—emotionally frozen at the time of the event.


12. Trauma recovery is possible.


Though the film doesn’t offer much in the way of resolution, real life can. With support, safety, and the chance to speak the unspeakable, young people can move through trauma—not by forgetting, but by transforming it.


Final Thought:


If secrets can haunt us like ghosts, how many teens are living inside their own horror stories—waiting to be believed, heard, and held?


💬 Ready to start your own healing journey?


Book a session with one of our compassionate therapists at Moody Melon Counseling. We’re here when you’re ready. 🍉



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