Don't Judge How People Heal

I have to admit, I got pulled into watching clips of Justin Bieber’s Coachella performance last weekend. I was never really a fan. I was too old when he first came onto the scene. But as a Canadian, I always respected what he accomplished, how quickly he rose, and how massive it all became.

And maybe it’s the investigator in me, the years spent in serious crime and child abuse work, but I always had a feeling. When someone that young enters an industry like that, surrounded by power, money, and influence… there’s a cost.

There are stories. And too often, those stories involve exploitation, manipulation, abuse, whether emotional, financial, or worse.

Over time, you could see the shift. The headlines changed. The images changed. Things got darker. I remember feeling sad for him.

Not because I saw someone behaving badly, but because I saw someone trying to survive. Trying to create some version of safety in a world that likely hadn’t offered much of it.

Then there were glimpses of something different.

I remember watching him perform at the Grammys in just boxer shorts, stripped down, exposed, but completely in control. It felt like a statement. Like strength. Like someone reclaiming themselves.

And then Coachella. That performance pulled me in.

It didn’t feel like a show. It felt like watching someone take their space back. Someone reconnecting with joy. With purpose. With something that belonged to them again.

No pressure. No expectations. Just what felt right, for him.

I loved it.

So let’s talk about healing.

Because healing from trauma, any trauma, does not have a “look.” That’s the point. There is no standard path. No timeline. No checklist.

Your trauma, how it lives in your body, how it shows up in your mind, how it impacts your relationships, is yours. Entirely.

Yes, there are professionals who support us. Spaces where we can talk, process, and understand. But no two experiences are the same and neither are the paths out of them.

I’ve written before about mental health. About trauma exposure. About policing.

And I’ve been honest about this: organizations, especially many policing organizations, often try to measure trauma. The organization (and it’s leaders) decide what should break you, and what you should “just get over.”

They get it wrong. They roll their eyes when someone asks for space. For time. For relief from what they’ve been carrying.

And that judgment? That lack of understanding? It keeps people stuck.

Here’s the truth:

People judge how others heal all the time. And they’ve judged Justin for years. But what I saw last weekend wasn’t perfection. It wasn’t a finished story.

It was progress.

Maybe his healing never “ends.” Maybe it’s something he manages every day. But what matters is this:

He’s doing it on his terms. He’s in control of what that looks like.

And yes—people will say:

“That’s easy for him. He has money. He has fame.”

Sure.

But control over your healing isn’t about money. It’s about permission. And too many people, especially in organizations, don’t feel like they have it.

Whether you’re behind a desk, answering calls, or working the front line, you have the right to take control of your healing too.

I know what it feels like not to.

There were times in my career when I knew something wasn’t right for me. I knew it was damaging. But I was afraid.

Afraid the organization wouldn’t see it. Afraid they wouldn’t believe it. Afraid of the label…. especially as a woman.

That quiet narrative: “See? This is what happens when you hire women.”

That fear is real. But near the end of my career, I made a different choice.

I stood up and I did what was right for me.

It was painful. But I have never felt more grounded, more present, or more certain than I did in that moment. I knew I had opened an door that was going to be unpleasant, but I also never felt more certain about a decision than when I finally did it.

This is what I hope people understand:

No two people experience anything the same. So no two people heal the same.

And real healing? It’s not easy.

It takes courage. It takes honesty. And most of the time, it hurts more to start healing than it does to stay in the storm.

But staying comes at a cost.

So instead of judging….

We need to step back. Give people space. Acknowledge the work they’re doing, especially when they’re doing it publicly, without a script, without certainty.

Because that takes strength.

Watching that performance felt like witnessing someone step out of the cocoon. And it reminded me of something important:

If you’re in that space right now, struggling, unsure, afraid of what comes next, you are allowed to find your own way through it.

You are allowed to create safety for yourself.

And if you do the work… if you keep going… you don’t just survive it. You transform.

Quietly. Powerfully.

In a way others may never fully understand but will FEEL when they see it.

Thank you Justin, for sharing that experience.