What Healing Didn’t Fix

Some things didn’t heal. I just learned how to carry them.

Healing is supposed to fix it.

That’s what I thought too.

That’s what they say, is it not? Once you’ve put in the work, everything gets better. Doesn’t it?

I did the work.
I went to therapy. I unpacked it. I understood it.

And there are still moments where it shows up like nothing ever changed.

It’s an unrealistic expectation that leads to suffocating dissatisfaction and disappointment. Things will improve when your pain begins to lessen. You will see changes, new and positive habits, and find yourself able to breathe more easily.

The part that so many fail to be transparent about is what healing won’t fix.

Some things didn’t heal.
They just learned how to exist differently.

And they still show up.
Even after all the work.

They still hurt, and they’re still uncomfortable.

My body still betrays me after confrontation. The moments when I find the courage to stand my ground, and rise from the silence. Times when I should feel pride overflowing.

And I feel worse. I feel my knees start to shake, even when I beg them not to.

My voice gets raspy, and the moisture leaves my mouth.

My palms become clammy, and it’s everything I can do to keep the heat from showing on my cheeks.

My body doesn’t believe my mind. I said we were ready for this, but my body was still somewhere else.

I still second guess my responses in conversation, or text messages. I type, delete, repeat.

The unease of how it will be received cripples me.

I want to believe when I say I am unbothered now.

I want to say that I healed, and I am unafraid.

But I am still human.

Closer to becoming whole.

But not untouched.

I set unsteady and fragile boundaries. Ones that shake. Ones that I desperately need, but sometimes can’t enforce.

Every part of me screams that I am better.

I am new.

I am fixed.

And still,

There are as many parts of me that don’t believe it.

---

Healing didn’t take this away.

It isn’t the absence of this.

To heal is to learn to live with this.

It changed how I meet these feelings.

I don’t fall near as far. I don’t linger on them for as long.

I acknowledge they’re real, facing them, and I move on.

Maybe that is what healing is.

This is something I explore more deeply in The Yellow Was a Lie.