There’s a moment in healing that no one prepares you for.
It arrives quietly, after the journaling, the therapy, the long walks, the hard conversations. After you've gathered new tools, softened old defences, and made peace with parts of yourself you once feared.
Then one day, when everything seems okay, you get triggered. You fall back into an old spiral. You freeze. You snap. You collapse under the weight of something you thought you had already released.
And just like that, the old voice returns: I guess I haven't healed after all.
But that's not true. That's not failure.
That's just the reality of the healing process.
Because Healing is not linear.
It doesn't unfold in neat, upward progressions. It loops. It dips. It accelerates unexpectedly and stalls when you crave momentum.
Anne Lamott once wrote, "Healing is not a straight line. It's a spiral. You come back to things you thought you understood and see deeper truths."
Even when the pain resurfaces.
Even when your old self comes knocking.
You are still healing.
Even when it feels like you've taken ten steps back, you're not starting over.
You're still healing.
Not because the pain is gone, but because your relationship to it is evolving.
That spiral you fear? It's not regression, it's rising. Each turn upward brings more awareness, more gentleness, more space between reaction and response.
That is healing.
Not perfection, but presence.
Not the absence of pain, but the capacity to sit with it without crumbling.
As Carl Jung said, "I am not what happened to me. I am what I choose to become."
Healing doesn't erase your past, it teaches you how to live differently with it.
It doesn't prevent you from being triggered, it offers you choices in how you respond.
It doesn't mean you'll never fall, it means you know you can rise again, even when it's messy.
You are not failing when the grief resurfaces.
You are not back at the beginning.
You are returning with deeper tools, greater tenderness, and growing self-trust.
You don't have to rush this.
You don't have to compare your path to anyone else's.
This is not a project. This is your becoming.
Some days will feel light and rooted. Others will ache without explanation. Some days you'll feel like giving up. Others you'll marvel at how far you've come.
That is the rhythm of Healing.
That is the shape of becoming whole.
So, if today feels heavy, let it be.
If today brings up something old, meet it without shame.
This is not a setback.
It's a layer.
A step.
A key reminder: You are still in the process of Healing.
And you're doing it with more grace than you know.