It doesn’t happen overnight. And to be honest, it’s not very pretty.

Like, at all.

If you think about it, maybe healing is like climbing a mountain. A lot of starting and stopping and getting lost. You fall down, get bruised, maybe try a new path. Some days you feel strong. Other days, not enough.

Then you find yourself at the top. God, the view up here. The air up here. Your lungs are expanding and your thighs are shaking, but goddamn, you made it and today you are stronger. You sit here for a while. Smell the flowers, rest recharge. Then you see the storm rolling in. Quick. Take cover. You start your way down. Thrashing through brambles, getting cut on the thorns, just trying to stay ahead of the storm. Maybe healing is like climbing a mountain and maybe next time it will be easier to find your way.

Somewhere along the path we got it in our heads that “healing” is equal to “aesthetic”. That healing means you’re surrounded by crystals, butterflies, rainbows, wearing a pretty dress, and maybe a holding glass of wine. All of that is fine. But healing from trauma, grief, loss, and just life is so much more than that.

It’s confronting your inner demons. It’s sitting in the uncomfortable silence of the apology you simply won’t get. It’s going to therapy and digging for diamonds in the dirt. And sometimes coming up empty handed by the time the sun sets. It’s journaling out your heart, running out your rage tornado, and taking a shower because it’s been three days and hashtag self-care, amirite?

Healing is about honoring your past wounds and realizing that, despite it all, you’re still growing wildflowers.

Welcome to Where She Grows. I’m happy you’re here.

Here's the thing about healing though...