Presence is Healing

Our lives have become too distracted, too externally focused, too relentlessly stimulated. We move from one thing to the next without ever truly arriving in ourselves. And because of that, we struggle to hold space for others — not because we don’t care, but because we rarely have the capacity to hold space even for ourselves.

This is something worth contemplating deeply.

We are social creatures. We regulate, grow, and heal in relationship. Our nervous systems read safety through one another. This means presence is not a luxury or a spiritual ideal, it is a biological and emotional necessity. We need presence from others. And we can only offer it when we know how to return to presence within ourselves.

Presence, to me, is different from awareness or mindfulness. Those are important, yes, but presence asks for something more nuanced which is the ability to sit with emotion, yours and someone else’s, without collapsing, defending, or escaping. The ability to stay grounded while holding discomfort. The ability to meet someone’s inner experience without taking it on.

People often say this is difficult.
And I agree.
But not in the way we imagine.

Presence does not demand perfection. It does not require the right words or a polished response. Presence simply asks: Can you listen without rushing to fix, advise, soothe, or solve? Can you resist the impulse to fill the silence? Can you stay with someone without absorbing their pain?

Silence is healing.
Being witnessed is healing.
Being trusted to hold your own wisdom is healing.

Sympathy does not always need to be spoken out loud. Encouragement can exist in a quiet moment that says, “I’m here. I believe in your capacity. I trust your inner knowing.”

The challenging part, and the part I see often in my work as a Life & Death Doula and Transitions Consultant, is that we cannot hold the discomfort of another person if it stirs the unresolved discomfort inside ourselves. When someone cries, we want to make them stop. When someone is afraid, we want to give answers. When someone is grieving, we want to lift them out of it.

Not because we should.
But because their pain touches our own.

And yet, the truth remains: it is not our responsibility to fix anyone. The most profound thing we can offer in moments of grief, transition, identity unraveling, or quiet chaos is our full, grounded presence.

Simply being there.
Completely.
Silently.

This matters.
This heals.

Imagine a world where each of us could offer even one person this kind of presence — in a kitchen, at a bedside, across a table, during a difficult transition, or at the threshold of life or death. Imagine what would unfold. Imagine how much softer the world would feel.

Presence is medicine.
Presence is love in its purest form.
And presence is a practice — one we can return to, again and again, within ourselves.

This philosophy sits at the heart of my work. I do not fix, rescue, or lead from above. I walk beside you — witnessing, grounding, and reflecting you back to yourself. I trust that you hold wisdom, strength, and clarity within you, even in moments when you cannot feel it.

If you are navigating change, grief, identity shifts, or the quiet unraveling that comes with being human, and you want a companion who meets you with presence and deep respect, you can connect with me for 1:1 support, workshops, or guidance on your journey.

Because you don’t need someone to take over.
You need someone to walk with you as you return to yourself.