We don’t talk enough about what healing actually looks like.
Not the kind you see on inspirational Instagram quotes with birds flying overhead or a person meditating calmly under a tree. I’m talking about the real, gritty, deeply human kind. The kind that whispers instead of shouts. The kind that doesn’t always feel good but counts anyway.
Sometimes healing looks like thinking, I can’t do today, and then… not doing it. At least not in the way you thought you should. Maybe instead you eat lunch and watch something mediocre while trying not to feel. Maybe you call it a win because, well, it is.
Sometimes it looks like walking into the place you used to go to numb out—and walking out with kombucha and a salad instead. Not because you suddenly became a paragon of health and discipline, but because something inside you knew that today, at least, you could not abandon yourself.
And sometimes it looks like organizing your living room at a manic pace because it’s easier than organizing your emotions. (You’re not fooling anyone, by the way—but also, no judgment. That was a solid move.)
Healing isn’t a straight line. It’s not a staircase. It’s not a checklist of things you do until you’re finally better. It’s more like a spiral. You come back to the same places, the same patterns, the same longings—but you’re a little different each time. You respond just slightly more kindly. You see what’s happening just a little sooner. You sit with what’s true for just a breath longer.
That’s what counts.
And yes, it’s disorienting. You think you’ve hit the hardest part—surely this is the bottom—and then the next layer comes. The next part of you that’s ready. The next ache that surprises you with how much it still hurts.
It’s easy to believe something’s wrong when that happens. Like you’re regressing. Or failing. But what if it’s the opposite? What if the return is part of the healing? What if the fact that it’s hard again means you’re strong enough now to face something you couldn’t before?
There’s nothing linear about this. You don’t graduate from pain. You grow your capacity to hold it.
And along the way, you’ll make a thousand small choices that don’t seem like much from the outside. Kombucha instead of wine. Silence instead of self-blame. Netflix instead of self-destruction. Calling it a win when old you would’ve called it a failure.
Those are the moments that build a life. Not a perfect life. But a real one. One where you’re no longer at the mercy of your patterns—even if they still whisper to you sometimes.
So if today you didn’t drink, or you showed up when you didn’t want to, or you softened to yourself in the smallest way, I want you to know: that counts. That’s healing.
And tomorrow? You can try again. Maybe even say hello to that 13-year-old version of you, the one who’s been waiting patiently, wondering if you’re finally safe enough to come closer to.
You don’t have to rush.
This is the work. And you’re doing it.
Embracing Shadows, Illuminating Hope,
Chelsey Fjeldheim, LCSW
Empowering Souls on the Path of Healing
Copyright © 2025 Chelsey Fjeldheim, Courage Speaks Counseling
