Healing Happens as it Happens

If I had been given the choice, I would have hit healing like a crash course, and done it in a day.

Healing happens as it happens.

It happens when we are ready.

It happens as we are able.

It does not happen in a straight line.

It does not happen in a clear, predictable sequence.

It does not happen the same way for everyone.

If does not happen the same way for every hurt. It does not happen the same way for the same hurt. It does not happen the same for the same collection of hurt.

vintage brown wooden door
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Healing happens as it happens.

And if you open yourself to it, it does happen.

I’ve been home, mostly in bed all weekend. I’ve napped. I’ve kept my phone on silent. I’ve listened to hours upon hours of Sherlock Holmes on Audible. I’ve practiced yoga. I’ve eaten food that provided nutrition and satisfaction. I’ve planted cactus seeds from a very old little cactus greenhouse kit. I have not worked. I have not cleaned. I have done nothing on a to-do list. I gardened a bit and smashed the tomato worms that have started to appear. I’ve slept some more. I’ve cried. I’ve processed grief. I’ve let myself heal. I’ve asked myself a lot of questions. I’ve accepted that I need rest, and that I may have pushed myself too far. I didn’t check the time during an hour-long yoga practice. Not checking the time is a really big deal for me, especially as I haven’t checked it once this week, and I didn’t check it during that long of a practice.

woman doing yoga activity
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I haven’t done an hour of yoga in I don’t know how long. I was pretty sure I would not be mentally or physically able to stick with it, and once I started I was pretty sure that I would not be emotionally able to do it. Yoga has started to provide clarity for me about where I am at the moment, and it tends to bring up a lot of emotion. I was somewhat aghast to realize so clearly, after I stated my intention of not being discouraged and staying with the practice, that I am not joyful.

I am not joyful.

photo of little girl s hands covered with paint
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That kind of hurts. I’d like to be joyful. I think I would enjoy it. But I am most certainly not. And I don’t think I will be until I’m ready to be. And if I’m honest, I’m not ready to be.

Because healing happens as it happens, and as hard as it is, and as painful and overwhelming and hard and isolating and impossible and as much as this endless hell takes way too long, it cannot  be rushed. In my experience it can’t really be controlled either. But it can be engaged with, stuck to and embraced as necessary.

I would have skipped it all if I could have. I would have made it pass by in a blink. But thank you, God, that I could not, and that healing happens as it happens.

photo of woman doing a ballet dance
Photo by Luis Gallegos Alvarez on Pexels.com

 

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