🤍The Slow Art of Healing🤍

Healing doesn’t look the same every day. Some days it feels like freedom, like sunlight finally breaking through after a storm. Other days, it feels like dragging your feet through mud, exhausted, questioning if you’re moving at all. And then there are the quiet in-between days, the ones where nothing feels different, but somehow you made it through—and that is healing too.

For so long, I thought healing meant “getting over it.” I thought one day I’d just wake up, and the weight of grief, loss, trauma, or heartbreak would be gone. But healing isn’t about forgetting, and it isn’t about pretending. It’s about learning to live with your scars, to breathe alongside the pain, and to create new joys in the middle of it all.

Lately, I’ve started noticing the little signs of my own healing:

I can laugh at things that used to make me cry.

I can let myself rest without guilt.

I can look in the mirror and see someone who has survived, not someone who is broken.

Healing is not linear—it’s not supposed to be. There will be setbacks, moments of doubt, and nights when the pain feels brand new. But then there will be mornings when you realize you’ve grown stronger without even noticing. That is the slow art of healing: the courage to keep showing up, even when it’s messy.

If you’re reading this and you’re in the middle of your own healing journey, please know—you don’t have to rush it. You don’t have to have it all figured out. Every breath you take, every time you choose to keep going, is proof that you are healing.

So I’ll ask you this:

What’s one small thing that’s been part of your healing lately, something you’re proud of—even if no one else sees it?