There’s something I’ve been working through lately.

While I’m grateful that so much of the intense trauma I once experienced has already moved through my system, I also know there was a whole identity and way of living created while I was disconnected from myself.

A life built in survival.​
​In coping.
In protecting.
In adapting.

And doing healing work doesn’t magically erase all of that overnight. (Sigh...I want that sometimes....)

There are still patterns to notice.
Thoughts to untangle.
Behaviors to soften.
Ways of relating to myself, my body, and other people that were shaped during seasons when survival mattered more than presence.

And honestly…
All of it takes effort.

Sometimes we speak about healing as if it’s a finish line.​
​As if one day we cross over into becoming the fully healed version of ourselves that psychology books, trauma-informed spaces, or social media therapists tell us we are supposed to become.

But I don’t think healing is that black or white - the space for ‘and’ is so powerful.

Because along the way, sometimes we forget how much energy healing can require.

The awareness.
The nervous system work.
The constant noticing.
The reframing.
The boundaries.
The repairing.
The grieving.

And sometimes, if we’re not careful, healing itself can quietly become another form of hypervigilance.

Another way to monitor ourselves.
Fix ourselves.
Improve ourselves.
Earn worthiness.

And I want to gently offer something that has been important for me to remember lately:

Healing was never meant to make us ask less from life.

Does any of this sound familiar....

It was never meant to disconnect me from joy, pleasure, rest, play, beauty, wonder, connection, or desire.

And if healing starts from the belief that I am fundamentally broken, unlovable, or “not there yet,” it can slowly squeeze out the very moments that remind me why I wanted to heal in the first place.

The warmth of sunlight.
A deep breath that finally reaches your belly.
Laughter that catches you off guard.
Music that moves something inside you.
A safe touch.
A moment of awe.
A feeling of being fully here.

Those moments matter too.

Not because they prove you’re healed.
But because they remind your body that life is still happening now.

And maybe part of healing is not only learning how to hold pain…

But also learning how to let ourselves notice pleasure without immediately bracing for it to disappear.

This week, I’d invite you into a gentle Loving Kindness practice.

Maybe place a hand on your heart, belly, or anywhere your body would like support right now.

And slowly repeat:

May I be well.
May I be kind to myself.
May I be safe from harm.
May I be peaceful and at ease.

And then…
if it feels supportive, I’d invite you to think of a version of yourself somewhere along your healing journey.

Maybe a younger you.​
A hurting you.​
A surviving you.
A version of you that was doing the best they could with what they knew at the time.

And offer those same phrases to them:

May you be well.
May you be kind to yourself.
May you be safe from harm.
May you be peaceful and at ease.

And then gently come back to who you are now.

The version of you reading this today.
The version still learning, healing, growing, and living.

And repeat once more:

May I be well.
May I be kind to myself.
May I be safe from harm.
May I be peaceful and at ease.

Not to force yourself into positivity or gratitude.
Not to erase the hard things or override pain.
But to let your body experience a moment of softness inside the healing.

Because the goal was never just survival.

With you in it,

Remember, ❤️

You Matter. Your Healing Matters. You Are Worth It!

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P.S. If you’re longing for support in learning how to reconnect with your body in a way that feels safe, gentle, and grounded, you’re always welcome to reach out for a free chat with me or join one of my classes at True North.

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