Who is Mike Allan

I didn’t plan to become a man who knows what it takes to start over. Life just kept putting me in situations where the ground shifted, the bottom fell out, or the path I was on stopped being one I could walk. Over the years I’ve rebuilt after loss, after grief, after a fire that took everything I owned, after jobs that collapsed, and after relationships that left me questioning my worth. I’ve rebuilt after addiction and the walls it cornered me into. Some of those rebuilds were forced on me. Some were the result of choices I didn’t understand until much later. Some nearly crushed me. And some ended up saving my life.

For a long time, I thought the number of rebuilds meant I’d done something wrong. Maybe if I’d been wiser, stronger, or more disciplined, I wouldn’t have had to keep starting over. But now I see rebuilding wasn’t a sign of weakness or failure. It was evidence I refused to stay down. Every restart taught me something essential: how to sit with reality when it stops matching your plans, how to ask for help when pride wants silence, how to hold steady through discomfort, and how healing unfolds through a series of small, honest steps rather than a single breakthrough.

A major part of my growth has come from a chapter of my life that isn’t always talked about openly, my work within the community of adult survivors of childhood sexual abuse. I don’t speak on behalf of any organization, and this site isn’t tied to any of my volunteer roles, but the truth is my years sitting with survivors transformed how I understand trauma, healing, and the quiet ways men carry what happened to them. I’ve heard stories that changed me. I’ve witnessed strength that doesn’t look like anything we’re taught as boys. And I’ve learned, through the humans I’ve walked alongside, that healing happens from the inside out long before it looks like progress on the outside.

That work deepened my understanding of my own history. It shaped my voice. And it solidified something I now carry into all of my writing: I’m not just a man who has rebuilt his life; I’m a CSA warrior. I know what it means to survive the unspeakable and still choose to move toward wholeness.

Today, my life is a mix of the things I’ve rebuilt and the things I’m still learning. I’m a father, a grandfather, a cat dad, a man in long-term recovery, and someone who values honesty more than polished perfection. Professionally, I’ve spent over twenty years helping businesses understand their websites and make practical improvements. I still enjoy that work. But it’s no longer my identity.

This space exists because I needed somewhere to speak honestly about what healing actually looks like beneath the surface, the part men rarely talk about, even with themselves. We’re taught to push through, stay strong, and keep going no matter what’s happening internally. But silence has a cost. I’ve paid it. I’ve watched others pay it. And I’ve learned that understanding what’s going on inside is often the first real step toward change.

Inside Out Healing is where I write about emotional awareness, nervous system signals, internal patterns, and the slow, steady work of making sense of your own inner world. I’m not a therapist, and I’m not positioning myself as an expert. I’m a man who has lived through enough collapses, rebuilds, and reckonings, including the kind that come from childhood trauma, to know healing doesn’t happen from the outside in. It starts quietly inside, often long before you’re ready to talk about it.

If you’re in a season that feels heavy, uncertain, or overwhelming, you’re not alone. You’re not weak. And you’re not starting from scratch. You’re learning to understand yourself in a new way, and that matters more than you might realize.

Take what helps. Leave what doesn’t.
Come back when you need to.
You’re welcome here.