What the Demons Do When You Let Them Stay 

^{_{They say healing isn’t linear. I say healing is like trying to do a cartwheel on a moving treadmill while blindfolded and being judged by Beaty pageant judges. And the treadmill’s on fire. But hey – “eh” for effort?}}

_{^{Let’s rewind a bit. Once upon a time, I thought the demons lived under my bed. Turns out, they’d set up camp in my head instead. Not exactly ideal – being the unwilling Airbnb for your own trauma timeshare. But here’s the plot twist: I didn’t just let them stay. I locked them away, tucked them into the corners of my mind, because facing them felt like too much. Still, I knew they were there. And eventually, I did what we often do when the dark parts of us start to feel more like home – I named them, poured the good wine, made a playlist. Because let’s face it, even if it’s the emotional equivalent of cuddling a cactus, familiarity is comfort. And fear? Fear is a hell of a decorator.}}

^{_{I once told my therapist I couldn’t get out of this loop – regret, guilt, and an irresponsible amount of iced coffee. She paused and asked, “Why regret?” I shrugged and said, “Because I wish I’d made different choices.” She nodded and said, “Regrets are just experimental choices.” I didn’t really know how to respond, so I just said, “So I’m marinating in them then, obviously.” I was joking. She didn’t laugh. Caring but tough crowd.}}

_{^{The truth is: I used to think regret was weakness. I now think it’s feedback. Loud, sometimes annoying feedback, but feedback nonetheless. Like your brain’s version of that friend who says, “Are you sure you want to text him?” at 1a.m. when you’re emotionally compromised and half a 2-6 of vodka deep.}}

^{_{See, the thing about making shitty decisions – and knowing they’re shitty even as you’re making them – is that eventually you get sick of the suck. As in, it just sucks to suck. And one day, you’re tired of your own excuses, your own tears, your own broken records of “why me” and “if only.” And you stand up (shakily), brush the Pizza Pizza crumbs off your hoodie, and say, “Okay, so what now?”}}