My journey of healing started about five years ago… maybe longer, if I’m being honest. Leaving was the first step, but I completely underestimated the damage that had already been done and the strength it would take just to survive it.
The first few years of “healing” weren’t really healing at all. They were about survival. I was lost. I was broken. But I didn’t have the luxury of sitting in that truth; I had children to protect. I had to stand tall while the monster reared its ugly head over and over again. I couldn’t hide. I couldn’t escape. I was a mom, and my job was to protect my kids.
Any moment I had to myself was spent quietly licking my wounds, cowering under the weight of shame, convinced I wasn’t doing enough, even as I gave everything I had. And the hardest truth of all was realizing that despite all my efforts, my children were still hurting too. That realization cut deeper than the monster ever could.
I fell into a routine of suffering, fighting, and trying to escape, with nowhere to go. I truly believed I was managing. I thought I was healing.
I was wrong.
I reached a place where I suffered in silence, pretending I was okay because it made it easier for everyone else around me to be okay, or so I thought. What I didn’t realize was the damage I was doing to myself. No one really talks about the shame of not being okay. You learn to swallow your needs, to push everything inward, to ignore the ache and hope it disappears.
And eventually… you succeed. You convince others you’re fine. You even convince yourself.
But your mind knows the truth. And it punishes your body for it.
The tension that never leaves. The constant aches. The gut issues. The exhaustion. A heart broken into a million pieces, all disguised as “peace” in the name of survival.
Then one day, the illusion shatters. The control you thought you had vanishes in an instant, exposed for what it always was: false hope.
Ironically, the damage becomes your wake-up call.
That’s when self-care entered my life, not as a luxury, but as desperation. And by then, it was almost easier… because I was too exhausted to keep ignoring reality. I had survived the worst of it.
I wish I could say that was the end. That self-care fixed everything, and I lived happily ever after.
But healing isn’t linear.
After years of growth, I’ve hit another wall. I thought I had learned how to keep the monster at bay, but the truth is, we can’t outrun everything forever. Sometimes those demons resurface. Sometimes they wear us down again.
This is where I am right now.
I let my guard down. I got comfortable in the beauty healing brought. And I forgot to keep caring for myself so that when life got loud again, I’d be ready.
So here’s the reminder for myself and for anyone else who might need it:
Self-care isn’t just for when we’re broken.
It’s for when we’re strong.
It’s for when things are good.
It’s how we stay ready for the uncomfortable seasons life will inevitably bring.
We’ve done this before, maybe many times before, which means we can do it again.
Throw away the shame of not being okay.
Choose yourself, even if it’s uncomfortable.
If they love you, they’ll forgive you for putting yourself first.
Find strength in the quiet moments. Let self-care ground you when the world gets loud.
And most importantly, remember this:
You are not alone in your suffering.
Life will be both quiet and loud.
All we can do is nurture ourselves whenever we can, so we’re strong enough to weather the storms.
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