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Loving the Whole Story: Healing Beyond Perfection
- Kaitlyn Stevenson
- Oct 10
- 5 min read
We live in a world that loves a good “before and after.” Lose the weight. Build the muscle. Conquer the habit. Master your mind. Become the best version of yourself.
It sounds nice on paper, but here’s the thing: if you’re not careful, that mindset turns healing into a constant chase. You’re always reaching for some perfect, polished version of yourself that never quite shows up. And in the meantime? You’re stuck feeling like the person you are right now isn’t enough.
But here’s what I’ve learned—healing beyond perfection isn’t about becoming flawless. It’s about learning to look at every version of yourself—even the messy, tired, grumpy, “I can’t believe I said that” version—and saying: You still belong here.
The Myth of the “Fixed” Self
Somewhere along the way, many of us bought into the idea that we have to be “fixed” before we can feel okay. We make these little deals with ourselves:
When I stop overthinking, I’ll be easier to love.
When I’m less angry, I’ll finally deserve peace.
When I’m more disciplined, I’ll be proud of myself.
The problem is, the finish line keeps moving. You hit one milestone and instantly set another. And if you’re anything like most of us, the second you stumble, you start the mental self-beating all over again.
The military teaches us to aim high and perform under pressure—but it rarely teaches what to do with our humanity when the mission is over. And humanity is messy. It cries. It snaps at people. It forgets to call. It laughs at the wrong moment. It trips over the same lesson more than once.
Every Version Has a Place at the Table
I like to picture it this way: your life is one big, long dinner table. And sitting around that table are all the versions of you—
the tough-as-nails one who got through boot camp,
the one who was terrified before deployment,
the one who crushed the 40-mile ruck,
the one who drank too much after getting home,
the rock-solid friend,
and the one who didn’t return a single text for three months.
Most of us keep the “respectable” versions of ourselves front and center, right under the good lighting. The rest? We shove them in the back closet and hope no one notices.
Healing is about inviting all of them to sit down and eat. It’s not about pretending the hard parts never happened—it’s about giving them the same compassion you give the “good” parts.
What We See on the Trail
On our trips, we see this truth play out in real time.
When we hit the trail, all the titles, ranks, and job descriptions get left at the trailhead. Out there, you’re just a human with a pack on your back—same as the person next to you. And the trail has this way of bringing out all your versions.
Sometimes, it’s the strong, focused, determined version. Other times, it’s the “What the f*ck did I sign up for?” version. And sometimes—more often than you’d think—it’s the goofy, belly-laughing version who can’t stop cracking jokes, even when the weather is sideways and the map says we have miles left.
We deal with the real stuff out there: downed trees that force us to army-crawl with 40-lb packs. Mud so deep it could steal your boot and your dignity in one go. Weather that changes faster than you can unzip your rain shell. Trails that “should” be flat but somehow are uphill both ways.
And the BS? We get lost (just a little). We’ve had meals that are basically glorified mystery mush. Someone always ends up with a burnt sock. And there’s always a moment when you realize you forgot something really important—like your coffee or, heaven forbid, your toilet paper.
But here’s the beauty in all of it: those moments break down walls faster than any deep conversation ever could. You see someone trip over the same root three times in ten minutes, and suddenly, the “perfect” version of them doesn’t feel so intimidating. You watch yourself melt into laughter over a ridiculous inside joke and realize maybe the version of you that laughs at the absurdity of it all is exactly the version that needed to show up that day.
The trail doesn’t demand you be perfect. Healing beyond perfection just asks you to keep going—and maybe help someone else over that next log while you’re at it.
Why Healing Beyond Perfection Matters
When we only let the “good” version of ourselves be seen, we cut ourselves off from real connection. Because let’s be honest—nobody relates to perfect. Perfect is boring. Perfect is a mask.
The real magic happens when you can say: “This is me today. A little tired, a little muddy, but still here.” That’s when the people around you exhale and say, “Me too.”
Practical Ways to Start Loving Every Version of You
This isn’t some one-and-done mindset shift. It’s a practice. Like any habit, it takes repetition and patience.
Make a Roll Call: List out the different versions of you. Give them names if you want. See them all as part of your team, not enemies to fight off.
Watch the “When I…” Trap: Notice how often you put conditions on your worth. Start replacing “When I’m better…” with “I am worthy now.”
Laugh at Yourself More: You’re human. You will trip. You will forget things. Laugh. Let it remind you that perfection is overrated.
Find Your Safe People: Share the less-polished parts of your story with people who’ve earned the right to hear it. If you don’t have those people yet, you’re welcome to find them with us on the trail.
Be Patient With the Harder Versions: Some parts of you are going to take longer to bring into the light. That’s okay. Healing is not a race.
Nature as a Teacher
Nature is the best reminder that imperfections aren’t flaws—they’re part of the design. A tree with a lightning scar is still a tree. A mountain with a landslide scar is still a mountain. And in their own way, they’re more interesting because of it.
We are too.
Letting Go of the Ideal
If “becoming the best version of yourself” feels like an endless, exhausting project—maybe it’s time to rethink that project.
Instead, what if the goal was to make peace with all the versions of you? To know they’re all welcome at the table, on the trail, and in the story you’re still writing.
An Invitation
If you’ve been holding yourself to an impossible standard, maybe it’s time to set it down for a while. Come see what it feels like to be accepted exactly as you are—mud, mistakes, and all.
Out here, you don’t have to pretend. Every version of you gets to breathe the mountain air. Every version gets to watch the sunset.
Every version belongs.
We hike. We laugh. We carry the heavy stuff together. And we make room for the whole story.
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