Modern psychology often frames healing as a private burden: you alone must regulate, reframe, fix. The system tells us that if we just try hard enough, we can become “normal.” But “normal” is not real. It’s a statistical illusion born of biased data, a colonial fiction that pathologizes difference and isolates us from the collective care we need. Healing is not meant to happen in isolation—just as a forest cannot thrive if each tree hoards its nutrients, neither can we.
The Colonial Trick of “Normal”
“Normal” has always been the bait. Psychology, medicine, and statistics sell us a baseline to aspire toward—stable mood, stable body, stable productivity. Those who fall outside it are labeled disordered. But when you look closely, “normal” is just an average drawn from a very particular sample: white, male, Western, neurotypical. It isn’t neutral. It’s a measurement of conformity to a colonial gaze.
Science pretends its numbers are clean, but every statistic carries bias: who is included, who is excluded, what is measured, what is ignored. “Normal” is not universal. It is a category built on erasure.
And when difference is cast as deviance, the system shifts responsibility onto individuals. You are anxious? Learn coping skills. You are depressed? Build discipline. You have ADHD? Hack your brain. Always: fix yourself. Never: look at the soil you’re growing in.
Plants in Poisoned Soil
Imagine a plant wilting in dry, toxic soil. Do we scold it for failing to bloom? Do we tell it to practice gratitude, or discipline its leaves into standing upright? No—we change the soil.
But in the West, mental health care often does the opposite. It tells individuals to adapt to toxic environments—overwork, poverty, systemic racism, patriarchal family structures—rather than naming those systems as the problem.
Our nervous systems are not defective; they are responding to the conditions of late capitalism, colonial trauma, and patriarchal violence. The soil is poisoned. The plant is not broken.
Forests Know Better
A forest knows what psychology forgot. Underground, tree roots and fungi weave a living network, sharing nutrients and signals. A strong tree feeds a weaker one. A dying tree releases its resources to the soil for others. Health is not individual—it is shared.
This is an archetypal lesson. Healing is not a ladder you climb alone; it is a forest web. Your nervous system, your grief, your resilience—all of it lives in relationship. Healing is co-regulation. Healing is collective.
A Personal Note on Belonging
I know this in my bones. I experience social anxiety, and yet the most healing experiences of my life have been communal ones. A therapist peer-support group where we trade stories of burnout and joy. A walking club of mothers who barely knew each other but carried each other through the sleepless years of early parenting. A friend group of total weirdos who make me feel like home.
These circles didn’t erase my struggles, but they shifted the weight. They made healing bearable. Alone, I felt like I was failing. Together, I felt like a human being again.
The Vision: Collective Care as the New Soil
What would it look like if collective care replaced the fiction of “normal”?
It might look like neighbors gathering monthly to share food, resources, stories. It might look like peer support networks where difference is not pathologized but welcomed. It might look like community clinics where healing is measured not by productivity regained, but by connection restored.
And it doesn’t have to be expensive retreats or inaccessible wellness centers. It could be local book clubs, sports teams, volunteering circles, co-ops—any space where people gather not to perform “normal,” but to be seen in their difference.
This isn’t easy. We’ve been trained in individualism, and stepping into community can feel uncomfortable. It requires risk. Vulnerability. The courage to show up imperfectly. But just like the forest, once the network forms, the burden is lighter.
🔥 Strategies for Refusing “Normal” and Reweaving the Collective
- Question the category. Whenever you hear the word “normal,” pause. Who defined it? Who benefits from it? What diversity does it erase?
- Reframe difference. If your patterns don’t fit the template, remember: you’re not failing. You’re showing the limits of the template.
- Find small forests. Start with what you love: join a book club, volunteer, invite people to share food. Build belonging around your passions.
- Lean into discomfort. If social anxiety rises, know that belonging takes practice. You don’t need to be ready—you just need to show up.
- Honor co-regulation. Let your body calm in the presence of others, human or non-human. Sit in the forest. Walk with a friend. Let your nervous system remember it is not alone.
- Create reciprocity. Don’t only seek community for support—offer it. Share your resources, time, listening ear. Forests thrive because they give and take in balance.
If this spoke to something in you, there are a few paths you can follow from here:
Work with Me
Personalized therapy (in Canada) and coaching (worldwide) for deep, relational support.
The Wolfskin Project
A growing library of free resources for self-exploration, myth, and everyday magic.
Each door leads somewhere different. It is my hope that all of them lead back to you.
<3 Rachel
What are your thoughts?