The Inner Lantern

Tending the Invisible Wound: beyond Diagnosis

(by Lauren “Lo” Wise, LCSW – Wise Light Therapy)

Most of us think of trauma as something visible: flashbacks, anxiety, or memories that won’t let go. But some wounds are harder to name. They show up as a quiet heaviness, a loss of trust, or the sense that something inside us has gone dim. These are what I call invisible wounds these are the kind of wounds that touch the soul more than the mind.

In my work as a therapist, I’ve seen how people can carry pain that doesn’t fit neatly into a diagnosis. They might look “fine” from the outside, but inside there’s a moral or spiritual ache and a feeling of having been betrayed, or of betraying oneself. This is what many veterans and trauma survivors know as moral injury, when your sense of what’s right has been broken, and you’re left trying to find meaning again.

Healing these wounds isn’t about fixing what’s broken. It’s about remembering what’s sacred. We do this by slowing down and listening and not just to thoughts or behaviors, but to the deeper voice within that’s trying to be heard. Sometimes it speaks through dreams, memories, or moments of silence. Sometimes it shows up as anger, guilt, or grief. All of it deserves attention.

Depth-oriented therapy gives us language for that journey. It invites us to look beneath symptoms and ask, What is this pain trying to teach me? It’s not always comfortable work, but it’s where transformation happens where we begin to reconnect with the parts of ourselves we’ve hidden or forgotten.

True healing is rarely quick or linear. It happens in moments of awareness, in relationships that feel safe, and in the courage to face what’s been long avoided. Whether that happens in a therapy session, a classroom, a retreat, or a quiet walk in nature, the goal is the same: to bring the soul back into the story.

When we tend the invisible wound, we’re not just surviving . We’re remembering who we are.

A Journey of a Wounded Healer

(by Lauren “Lo” Wise, LCSW – Wise Light Therapy)

When I first started as a therapist, I remember sitting across from a client whose pain mirrored my own. I wanted so badly to help her, but I could feel my chest tightening, like her story was pressing on something unhealed in me. That moment changed how I understood what it really means to be a “helper.”

Carl Jung called this the wounded healer the idea that those who have suffered deeply often feel called to guide others through their pain. It sounds noble, but it’s messy work. It means learning to hold space for others without losing yourself in their stories.

In the beginning, I didn’t know how to do that. I poured everything I had into my clients, until I was exhausted and empty. It took time, and my own therapy, to realize that my wounds weren’t something to hide or fix. They were teachers.

The things I once thought disqualified me from being a healer (my past, my scars, my mistakes) became the very things that allow me to connect. Because when you’ve lived through darkness, you don’t rush someone out of theirs. You sit with them. You understand that healing isn’t about fixing and it’s about witnessing.

Jung wrote that the unconscious sends us both symptoms and healing symbols. I see that now in my own life. The very pain that once kept me small has become the thing that helps me meet others with empathy and truth.

Being a wounded healer doesn’t mean being endlessly strong and it means knowing your limits, setting boundaries, and continuing your own inner work. It’s walking beside others while still tending to your own heart.

Over the years, I’ve learned that our wounds don’t make us broken; they make us human. They open us. They remind us that healing is a shared journey and one that moves in circles, not straight lines.

So when I sit with someone in their pain now, I don’t see weakness. I see courage. I see the same quiet strength that got me here. And in that space between healer and healed, something sacred happens: two people, both becoming whole.

Healing the Whole Self: Where Science Meets Soul

(by Lauren “Lo” Wise, LCSW – Wise Light Therapy)

Carl Jung believed that the parts of ourselves we hide or ignore often hold the key to healing. He called this process individuation, which is the process of becoming whole by bringing the unconscious into awareness. For many, that means learning to listen to what the body and psyche are trying to say beneath the noise of everyday life.

Modern science now gives us a window into what Jung could only imagine. Neuroscience shows that trauma lives in the body and how it changes how the brain reacts to stress and how safe we feel in the world. When someone’s been through loss or fear, their nervous system can stay on high alert long after the danger has passed. Healing isn’t just about talking through it, it’s about helping the body remember that it’s safe again.

Attachment theory adds another layer. The way we were cared for as children shapes how we connect as adults. Some of us learned that love means pleasing others; others learned to protect ourselves by staying distant. These patterns often replay in our relationships until we become aware of them.

I think of Jung’s idea of the shadow refers to the parts of us we’ve pushed aside to survive. When we finally face those hidden pieces with compassion, something shifts. We stop fighting ourselves. We begin to integrate.

This blend of Jungian psychology, neuroscience, and attachment theory gives us a fuller picture of what healing really means. It’s not just insight or symptom relief and it’s the gradual process of rewiring the body, reshaping the story, and reclaiming the self.

Psychology, Religion, and Philosophy

(by Lauren “Lo” Wise, LCSW – Wise Light Therapy)

When I first began studying depth psychology, I was struck by how often it crossed paths with spirituality and philosophy. The deeper I went, the harder it became to tell where one ended and the others began.

Carl Jung once wrote that dreams are “the small hidden door in the deepest and most intimate sanctum of the soul.” That line stayed with me. It reminded me that psychology isn’t just about behavior or brain chemistry, and it’s also about meaning, mystery, and the search for something larger than ourselves.

For much of Western history, psychology, religion, and philosophy have been divided into separate boxes ; science for the mind, religion for the soul, philosophy for truth. But in many other cultures, these threads have always been woven together. Healing the mind, exploring spirit, and asking why we’re here aren’t separate pursuits; they’re all part of being human.

Depth psychology sits right in that in-between space. It invites us to see symptoms not only as something to treat but as messages from the unconscious and the soul’s way of speaking. A panic attack might not just be “anxiety”; it could be a call to slow down. A recurring dream might not just be random firing of neurons, but the psyche trying to get our attention.

In therapy, I often see this connection come alive. A client might come in wanting to “stop overthinking,” and as we explore, we uncover something sacred such as; grief, longing, or even a quiet yearning for purpose. It’s in those moments I’m reminded that psychology, religion, and philosophy aren’t really separate at all. They’re three different languages for the same human search: Who am I, and why am I here?

Philosophy asks us to question reality. Religion asks us to surrender to it. Psychology asks us to feel it. When these three meet, we don’t just study the mind. We meet the soul.

Depth psychology doesn’t ask us to choose between science and spirit. It asks us to listen to both. It’s an invitation to explore the unseen and to find meaning not only in our joy but also in our suffering.

As I continue my work, I find myself returning to the same question that has shaped these traditions for centuries: What does it mean to be whole? I don’t think there’s one answer. But I do believe that when we allow psychology, religion, and philosophy to speak to each other, something sacred happens — we begin to remember that healing isn’t just about fixing what’s broken, but rediscovering the soul that’s been there all along.