Healing Is Not Linear

Healing Is Not Linear

Healing is not linear.

On some days, I’m fine.

Some days I feel 12 again,

hurting over things I thought I had buried.

Healing is waking up

and the weight feels lighter.

And the next day,

the weight brings a friend.

They don’t tell you that.

They say “time heals.”

They don’t say time also reminds.

Healing is deleting the number,

and then remembering it at 3am.

Healing is seeing them happy,

and choosing to be happy for them,

while your chest is still learning how.

Healing is therapy.

Healing is crying in the shower,

so the water can carry it away.

Healing is laughing at a joke,

and being surprised that it didn’t hurt.

Healing is setting boundaries.

“No, I can’t.”

“I need space.”

“I love you, but not like that anymore.”

And feeling guilty after.

And doing it anyway.

Healing is not forgetting.

It’s remembering without bleeding.

It’s telling the story,

and your voice doesn’t shake.

It’s seeing their name,

and your heart doesn’t sprint.

Healing is slow.

Boring sometimes.

Two steps forward, one step back,

one step sideways,

and a nap.

But healing is also real.

It’s the morning you wake up,

and the first thought isn’t them.

It’s the day you cook for yourself,

and it tastes like care.

It’s sleeping through the night,

without checking your phone.

So be patient with yourself.

You are not behind.

You are not broken.

You are mending.

Scars are just proof

that you survived the cut.

And one day,

you will touch this place in your chest,

and feel peace instead of pain.

Until then,

breathe.

Rest.

Try again tomorrow.

He

aling is not linear.

But you are still moving.

And that is enough.