Beyond Projection: The Quiet Responsibility of Healing

Author: Bianca Moeschinger
May 2025

It’s not easy to begin a conversation like this. Because what I’m about to share isn’t just about therapy or trauma—it’s about the human condition, the complexity of projection, and the quiet responsibility we all carry when it comes to healing.

This reflection continues from my previous blog, The Light We Carry, and it explores what happens when we bring our light into contact with someone else’s pain. It’s about what we hold—intentionally or not—and how that holding shapes the spaces we create for one another.

Let’s be honest: the therapeutic relationship is sacred—but it is also deeply human. Underneath the professional titles and skills, we are still just people trying to do our best. And in that space of holding others, we are also asked to hold ourselves.

This isn’t just my profession—it’s my life’s devotion. And it’s from this place of deep service and ongoing self-inquiry that I’ve come to understand something essential: healing is mutual. The practitioner holds space, yes—but the person seeking help must also bring their own willingness. Because when pain is too great to bear, it often lashes out. And if we don’t understand this, we end up projecting our unresolved wounds onto the very people trying to help.

I’ve sat with people mid-collapse—shouting, breaking down, trembling—and what’s asked of me in those moments isn’t to be perfect, but to be steady. Not to fix them, but to witness them. That’s the space many of us are trying to hold, day after day.

People in the therapeutic, psychological, and medical fields are on the front lines of human suffering. They are holding some of the darkest stories, most fragmented nervous systems, and most volatile emotional states. And they are doing it because they can. Because they have heart. Because they care. But this doesn’t mean they are immune to the pain that enters the room with every client. They are not immune to projection. Or judgment. Or collapse.

How did our expectations get so high that we forgot the humanity of those who help us? How did we lose sight of our own responsibility in the healing process?

There is a crucial distinction to be made between someone navigating a true mental health crisis—whose pain has overtaken their sense of self and control—and someone who simply needs guidance, a reset, or a deeper level of self-responsibility. Both need support. But support is not the same as surrendering all responsibility to the professional.

What we’re witnessing today is a deepening gap. On one side: people expecting their therapist or healer to fix everything. On the other: professionals trying to hold it all, sometimes at the cost of their own well-being.

It’s not sustainable. And it’s not honest.

Yes, professionals are trained. Many have studied and practiced for thousands of hours. They are skilled, devoted, and refined in their craft. But they are still human. The work doesn’t make them immune to their own triggers or fatigue. It just makes them more aware.

This work is not easy. It is deeply confronting. And it requires not just skill, but ongoing internal work. Every day, professionals are eating, exercising, processing, grounding, clearing their energetic fields—doing whatever they need to do so that they can sit in front of you fully present, open, and ready to serve.

We project when we don’t know how to sit with our emotions. Projection is a survival reflex—it places the pain outside of us when it feels too dangerous to hold inside. We lash out when the pain becomes too much, and often the safest person in the room becomes the target. We vent, blame, dump. Not because we’re bad—but because we’re human. And if that pattern never shifts inward, the cycle never ends.

Therapy, healing, and self-inquiry are not about blaming others. They are about understanding the self. Developing awareness. And gaining the tools to respond—not react—to life.

Awareness is maturity. Awareness is sovereignty. Awareness is the bridge between survival and conscious living.

So what do we do when the pain is too much? We begin by noticing. Then we take one step at a time into our own healing. We seek support when we need it. But we don’t hand over our power.

The truth is, ancestral trauma still runs through families. Children are still carrying the weight of their parents’ unprocessed emotions. And the answer to all of it feels overwhelming.

But still—every day—therapists, psychologists, healers, carers, doctors, and nurses show up. They show up with heart. With courage. With quiet strength. To hold a space where another person might finally feel safe enough to see themselves.

The answer may be complex. But the starting point is simple: remember the humanity in each other. Hold those who hold you with care. And do the inner work that allows you to one day hold others, too.

Because hurt people will continue to hurt people—until we learn how to hold ourselves first.

So if you're reading this, ask yourself gently:

• Where am I asking someone else to carry something that is actually mine?

• What part of my story still wants me to blame, rather than feel?

There’s no shame in where we are. There is only the invitation to begin.

In the last blog, I spoke about the light we carry—and what it means to walk through the world with our light turned on from within. But what does it actually feel like to be in the presence of someone whose inner light is switched on? And how does that affect our own experience of healing?

Here’s what I’ve learned: when someone is fully present with their light turned on—when they are working with intention, care, and conscious awareness—the space they hold becomes transformative. They don’t have to say much. Their nervous system speaks. Their energy steadies the room. And when you’re lying on their table, in session with them, or simply sitting nearby, something shifts inside you. It’s not always visible. But it’s felt.

That’s because the light they hold invites your own to remember itself.

I’ve had massages and treatments from people who are technically skilled but disconnected. They are doing their job, moving through the motions, unaware of the power they carry. And even then, I receive something. Why? Because I’m connected to myself. I’m consciously listening inward. I’m working with the sensations and emotions rising in response to their touch.

My nervous system is responding. My body is twitching, shaking, burping, crying, releasing. I’m present to what is unfolding in real-time—physically, emotionally, somatically. Even if the practitioner isn’t fully present, I am. That awareness makes all the difference.

But many don’t yet have that level of connection. They lie down, receive the touch, and walk away feeling slightly better—but with no understanding of what was actually stirred or shifted. No clarity. No insight. No true change.

This is the difference between being passive in your healing and being a participant in it. And this is the responsibility we all carry—not just to hold others, but to learn how to hold ourselves.

To listen to this blog on my podcast - https://underthesilencebybiancamoeschinger.buzzsprout.com

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