Healing Isn’t Linear (and Neither Is the Noise)
My wounds are healing.
That part is true.
But healing doesn’t mean silence.
Some days, the voices in my head still show up loud…old echoes of things that hurt me, moments that shaped me, stories I didn’t choose but somehow learned to believe.
Trauma doesn’t disappear just because time passes.
It lingers in the way I see myself.
In the way I measure my worth.
In the way my brain still tries to protect me by being cruel first.
I’m doing the work.
I’m softer with myself than I used to be.
I know more now. I understand more.
But some days are still a struggle, and pretending otherwise feels dishonest.
We live in a world where worth is loud and curated.
Where bodies are currency.
Where confidence is often confused with exposure, and visibility feels like it belongs only to the bold, the naked, the unattainably perfect.
And while I support autonomy and choice, I also feel the quiet damage this creates…the subtle comparison, the unspoken pressure, the feeling that being enough somehow requires being more.
More skin.
More perfection.
More performance.
It’s hard not to internalize that when you already carry wounds that whisper, you are not enough as you are.
Some days, I believe my healing.
Other days, I have to actively talk back to the noise.
Remind myself that my value isn’t measured in likes, or bodies, or trends that will eventually fade.
Healing isn’t a straight line.
It’s a series of returns…to myself, to truth, to grace.
And I’m still here.
Still choosing to heal.
Even on the days it feels heavy.
I’m not healed, but I’m healing…and that counts more than I used to believe.
xx
drae. ت
