A strange thing happened to me on the way to my grave…

I began to heal. But the truth is, I don’t really have any idea where it’s coming from. In fact, for most of my life, I didn’t even know I needed healing. I was just a broken shell walking around, trying in vain to hold myself together, without realizing it.

Here’s the thing about my healing. First, I had to learn that I was broken. Then I had to understand that it was OKAY.

It’s okay to break once in a while. Break down and cry. Break apart and curse. Scream. Fall to pieces.

It took time for me. It’s still taking time. I finally realized it was okay to be broken. After that, I had to come to a belief that 1) I could heal, and 2) that I deserved to.

That was tough. Telling myself that I deserved to be happy, that I deserved love, and that all those people from my childhood were wrong.

But I also had to forgive them, and myself, for being broken, too. The only way I could do this was to show my broken self to somebody who was less broken than me. I had to lay out all my broken thoughts and beliefs.

And I had to be open to the possibility that they could do better than I had.

Forgiveness is by far the most difficult part. Nevertheless, I don’t think we can truly start to heal unless we can focus on our wounds, rather than the things that caused them.

If you forever curse the blade, you will forever bleed.

Go ahead and be broken for a while. Go through your process of grief. Or abandonment. Or whatever it is that you’re going through.

And take 👏 your 👏 time 👏 my fellow human.

Never STAY broken. Whoever or whatever has put you in this place of sadness. Don’t let it become who you are. You absolutely deserve to heal.

If no one else has told you they love you today, I love you. And I believe you will make it out of the darkness.

Image by Pietro Merola from Pixabay