Author Bio
The Wounded Healer
The Wounded Healer is a South Louisiana native whose winding journey through education, work, and life’s curveballs has shaped a voice full of resilience, humor, and heart. From earning a master’s in Rehabilitation Counseling to surviving hurricanes, navigating career pivots, and embracing her own healing process—she’s gathered a wealth of insight along the way.
Though her path didn’t lead to the long-term counseling career she once envisioned, she now finds herself in a season of recovery and reflection, choosing to gently close that chapter and make peace with unmet expectations. These days, she leans into writing, self-care, and helping where she can. Welcome to her corner of the internet, where lived experience meets honesty and creativity.
She now feels more comfortable revealing her true identity: Michelle Breaux Burden, of both Cajun (father) and Hungarian (mother) descent. Many who know her are familiar with the deeper layers of her story, while others have only glimpsed scattered parts.
Michelle hopes for due respect as she:
Owns her truth and current spiritual condition.
Continues working through amends, deep reflections, and an overflow of thoughts, emotions, and insights.
Honors a long-standing calling to share her story—one that has been urging her for years, but has only recently emerged with a clearer voice and deeper healing.
A Note from the Author on Spiritual Matters
Spirituality has been woven into my healing journey from the very beginning. In many ways, my search for God—and for understanding—began with spiritual questions, well before I understood much about mental health or considered trusting other forms of therapy.
Today, I find myself somewhere between belief and disbelief. I’ve walked through both conservative and progressive expressions of Christianity, and at one time, each felt like home.
My spiritual practice now is different—quieter, more personal. It looks something like this:
Honesty: as best I can, even when it’s difficult.
Kindness: in the form of self-compassion and compassion for others.
Quietness: to reflect, listen, learn, and accept.
Expression: through art, writing, and conversation.
I’ve drawn wisdom from Eastern philosophies and Buddhist-like perspectives, though without a formal practice or study. I doubt I will ever become an atheist, yet I hold no judgment toward those who are. In some ways, I relate to their feelings of distrust, and I value their perspectives.
I am not “New Age.” I seek without needing to have all the answers. Sometimes, I even find peace in the space of non-answers—where prayer feels more like a conversation with the unknown.
If I had to describe what I call God, it might sound like this:
The presence that sits with me when my soul is empty, sad, or lost—a silence that listens.
The physical warmth I’ve felt in moments of deepest brokenness, sometimes bringing me to tears.
A peace that makes no sense in light of the circumstances.
Intuition that nudges me toward thoughtful action.
There was a time I didn’t trust my own perception of spiritual truth—likely because my soul was unwell. In that state, I acted in ways that reflected neither self-love nor love for others.
I still think about Jesus—the one called Christ—often. I find meaning in the stories, the parables, and the way he moved through the world with compassion, challenge, and presence.
That said, I struggle with the version of Jesus presented by some modern-day followers—the debates over doctrine and politics, the rigid interpretation of scripture, and the quick dismissal of those whose spiritual path looks different.
Yes, I know Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” (John 14:6)
I’m not ignoring that. But for me, the story of Jesus is more than a theological boundary—it’s an embodiment of love, a way of being, a truth to reflect on, whether or not one believes in God in the traditional sense.
Maybe that sounds confusing. Maybe it doesn’t align perfectly with every scriptural interpretation. And maybe that’s okay. By some standards, I might be “off track,” but this is where I am—and it’s honest.