Maybe Healing Isn’t About Getting Better

Maybe healing isn’t about becoming the version of yourself you used to be.
Maybe it’s about accepting that version is gone — and learning to love who’s left.

You keep waiting for that big moment, that deep breath where everything finally feels okay.
But it never comes all at once.
It arrives in fragments — tiny, quiet moments that don’t look like progress until much later.

Like when you laugh at something and realise it didn’t feel forced.
When you sleep through the night without thinking about what you’ve lost.
When a memory that used to crush you just... passes through, softer this time.

Maybe healing isn’t neat.
Maybe it’s messy and human and painfully slow.
Maybe it’s waking up tired but still deciding to try again.

You’re not meant to go back to who you were before the hurt.
That person didn’t know what you know now.
They hadn’t learned how to sit with pain and still find light.
They hadn’t learned how to keep going through the fog.

You have.

So maybe you’re not broken.
Maybe you’re just changing.
And maybe that’s what healing really is — not fixing what’s shattered, but finding beauty in the cracks that remain.