Flexibility Wasn't Modeled for Me

I'm learning how to let go without quitting

One of the hardest parts of healing is looking back at your past self. Even if that self was just you, yesterday. And realizing you acted in a way your today self would never. But you still have to live with the consequences.

This is where I often get stuck. My brain doesn't like mistakes. It doesn't forgive easily. It replays alternate timelines like a cruel director. Taunting me with the versions of life that could have been, but now never will.

It bullies me with whispers:

The people I've hurt. The people I've ghosted. The people I gave up on because I had nothing left to give. I know I'm one of them, too.

Yes, I've spent years trying to "fix" myself. And maybe to some, that looks selfish. But to me, it's the only way to stop the cycle. To make sure no one else drowns in the wake of... me. That feels like a win-win. Even if it doesn't always look like one.

I've spent the last four years in intentional isolation. I locked myself in the dungeon of my own despair and swallowed the key on purpose. I truly believed that keeping people out was the safest option. And in some ways... it worked. Mostly.

But there are still those who try. Those who want to be close. And my walls are still high. Still armed. Still locked.

I'd love to say that I've reached a point in my healing where sadness doesn't morph into rage. Where pain doesn't spill out sideways onto the ones I love. But I haven't. I still do. And it's that part of me I loathe. The part I try to hide. The part that peeks out when I've held too much for too long.

I don't hide well. I'm a terrible liar.

— AudraHealing out loud, so you don't have to heal in silence.