Why Healing Feels So Up and Down
Healing isn’t about perfection — it’s about honoring the mess and still choosing to show up.
We’re taught that healing is supposed to be this soft, quiet thing.
Like once you decide to “do the work,” everything just lines up.
Steady. Predictable. Peaceful.
But real healing?
The kind that comes after survival — after abuse, trauma, or life knocking you down so hard you barely recognize yourself?
It’s anything but peaceful.
It’s not neat.
It’s not linear.
It’s messy, exhausting, and deeply sacred.
It’s rebuilding yourself — not just once — but over and over again.
And some days?
You feel like you’re right back at the beginning.
But you’re not.
You’re on a spiral, not a straight line.
And every loop — every breakdown, every breakthrough — it’s all part of becoming.
Healing After Toxic Love and Narcissistic Abuse
Leaving a toxic relationship isn’t the finish line.
It’s just the beginning.
Because healing isn’t just about walking away — it’s about taking back the parts of yourself you didn’t even realize you gave up.
It’s about unlearning the lies that told you love had to hurt. That safety had to be earned. That you had to shrink yourself to be worthy.
I remember leaving and feeling like I’d made it out with my body intact — but my heart, my spirit, my trust… those were shattered.
Healing wasn’t just about “moving on.” It was about re-learning what safety felt like in my nervous system. It was about realizing love doesn’t command you, control you, or make you afraid for your life or your family.
I had to escape to stay alive. But I also had to escape to remember that I was worthy of gentleness… of kindness… of peace — even if I’d never fully known it before.
For a long time, I felt like I was cursed when it came to love. I tried — over and over — but few relationships ever felt real… Safe… Sacred.
And still, some days, the triggers hit.
Some days, the memories creep in, and guilt comes with them.
But I’ve learned to pause, to listen, and to shift direction if I need to.
Because now I know — those relationships didn’t break me.
They built me.
They forced me to find strength I didn’t know I had.
I learned how to start over.
And most importantly, I learned how to love me — fully — with or without a relationship.
I don’t crave love like I used to.
If it finds me, great. But I’m truly, and finally, happy with myself.
And that’s something no one can take from me.
Because healing isn’t about pretending it never happened.
It’s standing in your truth and whispering:
“I’m free. I’m safe. I’m still rising.”
I also had to face something else that was hard to admit:
I didn’t cause the abuse — but I did allow it to continue longer than I should have… Out of fear.
Even while I was living in fear.
That doesn’t make it my fault — but it was part of my healing.
Healing After Physical Trauma — When Your Body Changes
There’s a kind of grief that no one really prepares you for —
the grief that comes when your body no longer feels like home.
After my horseback riding accident and the brain bleed that followed, everything changed.
I had to learn how to walk again.
I had to think just to move my foot.
I had to rebuild my memory, my coordination, my strength, and re-tune my inner clock.
And all of that… while raising my son.
I wasn’t just healing my brain.
I was grieving the version of me who didn’t need help.
The version of me who could keep up, who learned fast, who danced through life.
The one who didn’t have to second-guess every move.
I felt guilty that I couldn’t work right away… I had to find a new job.
I had to re-learn how to function.
I played games, puzzles — anything to keep my brain sharp. I still do.
Some days, I was just angry.
Angry at what I couldn’t do.
Angry that I had to slow down.
Angry that my memory betrayed me, that I couldn’t trust my internal clock to know the difference between 10 minutes and half an hour, or yesterday between weeks or even months ago.
And some days, I’d cry myself to sleep.
But other days…
I felt proud.
Because every little victory — every step I didn’t have the week before — meant something.
Healing wasn’t just about recovery.
It was about finding a new way to live.
A new way to love myself.
A new way to rise.
And sometimes, I just had to pause and reset.
Start fresh the next day.
Why Healing Feels Like a Spiral
Healing doesn’t follow a timeline.
It doesn’t reward perfection.
It doesn’t hand out gold stars.
It feels like this:
- Breaking down just when you thought you had it all together
- Feeling mad about things you “should” be past
- Grieving the version of you you’ll never get back — while slowly loving the new one rising
- Loving yourself one day and wondering what’s wrong with you the next
This is not failure.
This is healing!
It’s sacred.
It’s brutal.
It’s beautiful.
And it brings you closer — not backwards — to who you really are.
A Warrior’s Reminder
If you’re walking through the fire — if you’re tired of carrying it all — I want you to know something:
- You’re not broken.
- You’re not behind.
- You’re not too much or not enough.
You’re healing.
And healing?
It’s the fiercest, bravest, most soul-shaping thing you’ll ever do.
One breath.
One pause.
One messy, sacred moment at a time.
Click here to book your free Soul Clarity Call.
Let’s walk this together — not as survivors, but as women who remember who the hell they are.
