There are days when healing doesn’t look like breakthrough or big decisions.
It looks like sitting barefoot in your kitchen while the kettle whistles, letting the warmth of the floor soak into your skin. It’s choosing a chipped mug you’ve always loved, not for how it looks, but for how it feels—familiar, steady.
Somewhere along the line, we were told that transformation had to be loud. That to become, we had to blaze forward, leave thing behind, chase “better.” But I’ve found that the becoming often happens in the softest hours.
It’s in folding laundry while a record hums in the background. It’s in the half-smile you give your reflection when you notice you skin healing, or the way your chest loosens when you finally take a full, deep breath after holding it for what feels like months.
The moments aren’t loud. They’re not likely to be posted or praised. But they’re the truest glimpses of returning to yourself.
I’ve learned to honor them. To say, “This counts.” Because it does. These are the moments of you—real, raw, whole. No fixing needed. Just noticing. Just being.
So today, maybe your healing is a long shower. Maybe it’s canceling plans. Maybe it’s whispering, “I’m tired” and giving yourself permission to rest without apology.
Whatever it is, let it be enough.
Because you are.
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