You Don’t Have to Be Healed to Be Powerful

By Trinity Barnette

There’s this myth society keeps recycling—the idea that you have to be fully healed to be whole, to be worthy, to be powerful. But here’s the truth: healing is not a finish line. It’s not a destination you reach and suddenly you’re perfect, polished, and ready to be taken seriously. Healing is messy. It’s layered. And sometimes, it looks like barely holding it together while still showing up and getting shit done.

We don’t talk enough about the strength it takes to keep moving while you’re still hurting. About the power in the in-between. You don’t have to be free of scars to lead. You don’t have to be untouched by trauma to speak. You don’t need to wait until your breakdowns are over to rise.

In fact, some of the most impactful people I’ve ever met are the ones who lead while bleeding. Who speak with voices that shake. Who build movements while carrying pain they never asked for. That’s not weakness. That’s power most people can’t comprehend.

We glorify healing—but weaponize imperfection. We tell people to “do the work,” but still shame them when their progress isn’t linear. We love a comeback story, but only when it’s polished enough to be palatable. What we rarely acknowledge is that healing is deeply personal. And that your power does not have to be postponed until your pain is gone.

You are allowed to be a work in progress and a force. You are allowed to be triggered, tired, tangled in your own emotions—and still be wise, still be worthy, still be chosen.

Stop waiting to be perfect to show up. Stop waiting to be fully healed to take the damn mic. There is a version of you right now, raw and real and unfinished, that is still powerful as hell.

And anyone who says otherwise? Isn’t ready for what you carry.

I used to think I had to wait. Wait until the trauma didn’t sting anymore. Wait until I stopped flinching at certain memories or apologizing for my emotions. I thought healing had a timestamp—and if I wasn’t “there” yet, I had no right to speak, to lead, to create.

But truthfully? Some of my most transformative moments came while I was still in pain. I wrote, built, advocated, and fought through breakdowns. I showed up when I felt broken. And ironically, that’s when I felt the most connected to others—when I stopped pretending to be perfect and started letting people see me as I was: healing, but still here.

That’s when I realized something no one tells you: the version of me that was still hurting had power, too. Not in spite of my pain—but because of it.