No one prepares you for how long healing can take.

How some days you feel strong, and others you can barely breathe.

How you can be surrounded by people, yet still feel the ghost of that one person missing.

How memories sneak in, not to torture you, but because they were real.

And real love leaves traces.

There were moments I thought I’d be done by now.

That I would move on, forget, let go, “be better.”

But healing doesn’t follow a timeline.

It follows the heart.

And the heart doesn’t rush.

Because when you’ve loved that deeply,

you don’t just close the door and never look back.

You pause.

You ache.

You soften.

You learn to hold your own hand in the dark.

And maybe it’s not about getting over it,

but learning how to live with the imprint of what was.

Maybe it’s not about forgetting,

but about remembering without breaking.

I am healing slower than I expected,

but I am healing deeper than I imagined.

Because this time, I’m not running.

I’m not numbing.

I’m not pretending I’m fine.

I’m letting it move through me, grief, longing, love, all of it.

I’m sitting with the parts of me I once tried to hide.

I’m letting my own tenderness be the medicine.

And slowly… I can feel something shifting.

Not erasing the pain,

but making space around it.

Breathing again.

Trusting again.

Loving… again.

Differently.

Wiser.

Softer.

Truer.

Aniela🤍

www.MindfulTherapist.us

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