What I Wish I Knew When I Started Healing
My healing journey didn’t officially begin until I was twenty-four. Before that, I was cruising through life in a state of compartmentalization, blissfully unaware of how my (very creative, yet totally unhelpful) coping mechanisms were affecting my relationships. My dive into self-development wasn’t some grand plan. I wasn’t trying to become the next wellness guru—I was simply a grad student getting out of a long-term relationship, emotionally scrambled and completely overwhelmed. So, I did the responsible thing: I signed up for therapy through my school’s counseling program.
Holy moly, that was a can of worms. I was a crying, messy, heart-spilling machine during that intake session. I opened my emotional Pandora’s box, and once that door swung open, well, there was no shutting it again.
Since then, I’ve come a long way from that tearful version of myself. I've learned so much about healing and what it looks like for me—which was not at all like I expected. Now, looking back, I wish I could hop in a time machine and give my past self a few pointers. Here are a few things I wish I’d known about healing before I started:
First lesson: healing can be all consuming. Once I knew there was “work to do,” I threw myself into it like I was training for the Self-Care Olympics. I became a self-help machine—reading every book, listening to every podcast, filling out every workbook. My mind was a workshop of coping strategies and trauma theories. I ~thought~ that meant I was healing.
But looking back, I realize I was more interested in “fixing” myself than actually feeling my way through. I’d become the master of intellectualizing my emotions but couldn’t quite bring myself to feel them. The thing is, you can’t heal what you refuse to feel. You have to actually sit in those feelings, get to know them, and then gently let them go. It’s messy, but it’s real.
Then came the period of life where I made trauma my entire personality. After I got my C-PTSD and depression diagnoses, it was like I’d found the missing pieces of myself. But instead of seeing them as just pieces, I started wearing them as my entire identity.
Can’t hangout tonight, sorry I have trauma. Can’t go to work today, sorry I have trauma. Can’t take care of myself, sorry I have trauma.
Trauma became my go-to explanation for everything, and it added weight to every little emotional dip. Accepting my past and giving myself grace was vital, but at some point, I realized I was slipping into a victim mentality. Every setback felt like an echo of my sad, complicated past, instead of just a challenge in the present. Learning to gently separate myself from my trauma—to honor it without letting it define me—was key to moving forward.
Another revelation–healing is not a one-time thing. Life will ask you to revisit it, again and again. Some part of me thought that after everything I’d been through growing up, my twenties would be smooth sailing. But that’s simply not how life works. Every time my mental health dipped, I felt cheated, like, are you frickin' kidding me? More depression? More healing to do?
It wasn’t until I learned to stop fighting it and just let myself ebb and flow with life’s ups and downs that I found peace. It took a lot of therapy, journaling, and yes, even medication to find my balance. I’d love to say I got through with relentless grit and willpower, but antidepressants were a game-changer for me. They helped me clear enough of the heavy mental fog to actually do the inner work, without being weighed down by the sheer weight of existing. Healing isn’t about powering through; sometimes, it’s about giving yourself the tools to stay afloat.
Here’s my final truth, which can feel both sobering and freeing: this work has no end date. In the beginning, I was in a rush, convinced I had to unpack every emotional suitcase ASAP, trying to make some made up emotional deadline. But healing isn’t a sprint—it’s more like a winding, scenic hike with a few surprise mud pits. Some of my biggest breakthroughs have happened not in the thick of self-reflection, but when I was just living, letting myself breathe. Sometimes, the deepest healing happens when we step back and let life work its magic. Embracing rest taught me that healing isn’t just about going deep; it’s about knowing when to come up for air, too.
Healing is messy, nonlinear, full of unexpected tears and laughs, and sometimes (a lot of times) feels like you’re backtracking. But with every dip, every breakthrough, every moment of just sitting with what’s there, you’re building a life with depth, resilience, and a whole lot more love for yourself.
So, to everyone out there still piecing together their own mess and occasionally spiraling down self-help rabbit holes, you’re not alone. There’s no wrong way to heal. Just keep going, give yourself grace, and remember to come up for air every now and then.
With my whole heart,
Your Maddy
