Learning Through My Healing
Healing doesn’t happen all at once. It’s not neat or predictable, and sometimes it hurts more before it gets better. But little by little, I’m learning that peace is possible. Not because everything is fixed, but because I’m finally choosing myself.
I’m still early in my healing journey. And while I don’t expect some magical day where everything is “repaired,” I do believe that I’ll continue to grow stronger, softer, wiser; and that I’ll find peace, even in places that once held pain.
Here are five of the biggest lessons I’ve uncovered so far.
1. There’s no perfect toolkit for healing
I’ve been in therapy with my current therapist for years and worked with others before that. Each brought a different approach and a different set of tools. In addition, I’ve read a small library’s worth of self-help books and biographies, listened to podcasts, practiced affirmations, tried meditation, explored chakras, and even leaned into the energy of crystals.
But my most consistent outlet has been writing. I’ve been a journaler for as long as I can remember. As a young girl, my diary was a lifeline; a place where I could speak freely when no one else was listening. As an adult, writing has remained one of the most healing things I can do for myself. This blog, too, has become a space where I can untangle the knots in my mind and share the things I wish someone had told me.
Healing isn’t linear. There’s no one size fits all formula, but I’ve come to love the complexity and exploration that comes with it. Some tools I’ll keep. Others I’ll shelf. And that’s okay.
2. I have a village
Support doesn’t always look the way we expect it to; but it comes. I’ve found it in people I never would have imagined. New friends who understand parts of my story without explanation, and old friends who have deepened our bond by simply showing up. I’ve learned to let people in, even when it’s uncomfortable.
There was a time when I thought my strength was in my silence. That carrying everything on my own kept me safe. Now I know that vulnerability can be a bridge instead of a burden. When I speak honestly, with people who are safe, about what I’m going through, they open up too. And together share experiences and exchange life lessons. Through these connections we build something solid and real.
This journey has shown me that I’m not alone. I never was. I just needed to stop pretending to be okay when I wasn’t.
3. I have an audience
As a mother to three incredible boys, I’m constantly reminded that little eyes are always watching. Every decision I make, every boundary I set, every moment I show up for myself; they’re taking it in. If I suffer, so do they. If I fail, they’ll feel the impact. Alternately, if I thrive, so do they. And if I succeed, they reap the benefits. It’s a lot of responsibility. And it keeps me grounded in my values.
These days, I often ask myself: Am I demonstrating to them what self-respect looks like? What healthy love sounds like? What it means to be graceful, but not self-sacrificing? Sometimes the answer is yes, and other time not so much.
They don’t need me to be perfect. But they do need to see me try. They need to witness honesty, growth, repair, and strength that doesn’t look like control or silence, but like intentional love. That includes how the other adults in their lives treat one another, even when things are hard. We’re all shaping their blueprint for relationships, whether we realize it or not.
4. My awareness has sharpened
Before I committed to healing, I noticed red flags but excused them. I picked up on dismissiveness, blame, tone, and avoidance, but I tolerated it. I internalized it. And then I either forgave too quickly or carried quiet resentment that wore me down over time.
That’s changed.
Now, I assess my relationships with more clarity. I don’t overlook repeated behaviors. I don’t accept apologies that don’t come with change. I don’t redefine patterns to make someone’s inconsistency easier to stomach.
That doesn’t make me bitter, it makes me I’m discerning.
I’m learning to separate missteps from manipulation, and no longer staying in spaces and relationships that diminish my peace or my self-worth. Grace is still on the table but access isn’t guaranteed. That requires effort and sustained changed behavior. It’s not punishment; it’s a standard.
5. Some things can’t be problem-solved
I used to try to fix everything. To control outcomes and manage the feelings and needs of those around me, even when it left me depleted. I thought if I tried hard enough, I could create the version of life that looked good, felt stable, and met everyone's needs.
I failed miserably.
Now, I know that the only thing truly in my control is me. I still feel disappointment. I still cry. But I let myself feel the feelings instead of suppressing them. I let the tears come without shame. And when I can’t figure it all out, I let myself rest instead of over-functioning to compensate.
The truth is, some things don’t have a solution. They only have a season. And my job is not to fix everything, but to live truthfully through it.
The heart of healing
One of the most frustrating parts of this journey has been being misunderstood by people who assumed the worst and interpreted my boundaries as bitterness, or my silence as weakness. I can’t carry the weight of someone else’s opinion. I can only live in truth, and hope that in time, that truth becomes undeniable.
I don’t know what lessons still lie ahead. But I do know that I’m willing to learn them and strong enough to use what I’ve learned so far to make better, wiser, more peaceful decisions for myself and those I love.
Intentionality is the heart of healing. It’s not enough to say “I’m working on myself”, you have to really do the work. It won’t look the same for everyone, but when you commit to it honestly, everything changes. For your family. Your friendships. And your future.
This journey isn’t perfect.
But it’s mine.
And I’m walking it with purpose.
Affirmations for healing with integrity
I can grow without apologizing for how I protect myself.
My peace is worth more than their approval.
I give myself permission to feel, rest, and release.
I am not who they said I was—I am who I decide to become.
Healing doesn't require perfection, only intention.
I attract connections rooted in safety, honesty, and care.
My story is unfolding exactly as it needs to.
I no longer chase understanding—I embody self-trust.
Journal prompts
What’s something I’ve outgrown, even if part of me still misses it?
When was the last time I truly felt safe—and what contributed to that feeling?
What do I now understand about boundaries that I didn’t before?
What belief or behavior have I let go of that’s helped me feel freer?
In what areas of my life am I still trying to "fix" things that aren’t mine to fix?
What would it look like to be completely honest with myself today?
How am I modeling healing to the people (especially children) who are watching me?
What does protecting my peace look like in this season?
