I wish healing was as poetic as we write it out to be.
This beautifully expressed, cathartic, and spiritual therapy. And at times it truly can be. But it's not always the case. It's more of a treacherous journey into the depths of things we'd rather not see. It's messy, chaotic, and painfully ugly. It's often two steps forward, five steps back, tripping along the way.
Rethinking, reliving, regretting, remembering, and feeling it all in uncontrollable and unpredictable waves. Facing the demons we'd rather forget. Falling, spiraling, coming undone. We think we're ok, but then something hits us out of nowhere and scratches off that emotional scab we thought was almost done.
Trauma can shroud you like blankets and we're usually unaware of just how thick it is. Then another layer is pulled away and we're left standing there still half-comforted by the remaining heaviness of it all.
Its warm to wear, but suffocates you too, an unnecessary weight to bear. A false sense of security; stacked trauma responses as a means of survival along the way. Healing is beautiful in so many ways, but that doesn't mean we don't have to fight through it day by day. So I'll write through pain, the ugliness, and the shame. Healing my heart, until only soul lessons remain.
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