Everybody loves the idea of healing.
They talk about it like it's a destination.
As if life waits patiently for you to put yourself back together.
But what nobody talks about
Is healing when life keeps handing you new reasons to fall apart.
There were versions of me that disappeared quietly
And nobody noticed I had to go looking for them.
Pieces of myself-
Scattered through old memories. Old heartbreaks.
Old battles.
Healing while life keeps hurting you..
That's a different kind of strength.
It's like trying to sew a parachute while you're already falling.
Like learning to navigate by the stars, from the bottom of the ocean.
People celebrate healed scars.
They rarely notice the wounds still learning how.
The hardest part isn't the pain.
It's the expectation that you should "be better by now."
As if grief follows a schedule.
As if heartbreak waits for permission.
Some days I feel like the ocean.
Peaceful enough for people to admire from the shore -
While underneath, entire storms are fighting for space.
Currents nobody can see.
Depth nobody will ever understand.
And maybe that's what people misunderstand about healing.
It isn't becoming someone pain can no longer reach.
It's becoming someone pain can no longer rewrite.
The betrayal didn't make me cruel, the heartbreak didn't make me stop loving.
The darkness didn't convince me to become darkness.
Because some of us aren't healing after the storm.
We're learning how to swim while it's still raining.
And I think that's the strongest kind of healing there is.
