Nobody warned me that healing would feel like grieving.
Grieving who I was. Who I thought I’d be.
Grieving the comfort of my chaos.
No one told me I’d miss the mess sometimes.
That I’d romanticize it, scroll through old photos like they were relics,
remembering the version of me who felt everything too loudly and still smiled in public.
They didn’t mention that I’d lose people.
That the ones who benefited from my brokenness wouldn’t clap when I got better.
That some of the people I loved the most only loved me at my most convenient.
They didn’t say healing would be boring.
That I’d trade midnight breakdowns for grocery lists.
That sometimes the high of dysfunction felt more thrilling than the steadiness of peace.
They didn’t say I’d question myself constantly:
Am I doing this right?
Why does it still hurt?
Why do I still want to go back sometimes?
No one told me that healing would make me angry.
That once the fog lifted, I’d look around and realize how many things were never okay.
How many apologies I never got.
How long I pretended just to keep the peace.
They didn’t tell me how lonely it would be to outgrow your own life.
To sit at tables where you once laughed and now feel like a stranger in your own skin.
They didn’t say that getting better would feel like betrayal.
That taking care of myself would make others uncomfortable.
That saying “no” would echo like a curse word in rooms where I used to whisper “yes.”
But here’s what else they didn’t say: that healing would taste like freedom.
That after the grief and the guilt and the hard conversations,
you’d breathe easier in your own body.
That you’d start laughing for real again – not for show.
That you’d sleep without substances.
That the silence wouldn’t scare you anymore.
That one day, you’d meet yourself in the mirror and think:
I fought so hard to get here. I’m not fucking going anywhere.
That you’d build a life that fits you. Not a performance. Not a performance of recovery.
A real, quiet, steady life that feels like peace. That feels like home.
And that the best part? You’ll never need to burn yourself down to feel alive again.
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