The unbearable ugliness of healing

Healing is ugly.

It’s intense, messy, wild, emotional, destructive, embarrassing, and heart wrenchingly sad and poignant. Healing is ugly… It has to be, though. Healing pushes us to learn about ourselves and who we are as individuals.

Healing forces us to look at who we are when we are surrounded by the people we keep close. We discover our potential. And we determine the lines we are willing to cross and the ones who define us.

Healing is ugly… But the ugly is necessary in order to heal.

In the physical world, when you are hurt and broken, sometimes it requires more damage to be done in order to repair the original trauma. A broken bone needs to be reset, wounds need to be sewn up, and medicine needs to be applied.

Healing is ugly, but it is necessary in order for it to work. It’s necessary if you want to find happiness again… And I wanted that more than anything.

I recall countless nights standing in the shower, being caressed with water that ran so hot my skin became numb, and I couldn’t feel the tears running down my face.

How could I allow myself to walk down this path again?

The words sliced my bleeding heart harshly as they repeated over and over in my head like a twisted merry-go-round from the darkest, twisted trip. And I wasn’t letting go no matter how desperately I wanted to.

I hated myself.

From the bottom of my deepest fears and with every fiber of my being, I hated myself.

Because I should’ve known better…

I try to reason that his white lies had seemed innocent in comparison, and I thought he had been the lesser of two evils. I had had to make a choice, and I had made the wrong one.

But a white lie is still a lie- and everything about us had been wrong from the very first exchange.

I had been distracted and overstimulated- excuses my friends spun for me, hoping that I would believe them and not the accusations I was screaming silently at myself.

Because I should have known better.

At the end of the day, I am human. I am not a god, I am mortal. And I make mistakes. My heart wears binoculars for glasses and despite being bruised and taken through Hell, it still believes that good people do exist and happiness can be attained.

The first time I walked outside after leaving him sent me falling, spiraling into a black abyss of self loathing and damning judgement. The anger and bitterness overwhelmed my mind until I couldn’t breathe without remembering everything he had said and done.

It’s amazing how one little thing will trigger nightmares that swallow you whole in the brightest daylight.

I had been twenty two years old when I thought I had fallen in love with a man who had no business talking to me. Despite the novels that built the foundation of my angsty teen years, I still overlooked all the red flags that were so obviously there.

But I was twenty two years old. Now, sitting here at 37 years of age, I can allow myself grace that felt impossible to give ten years ago.

Five years ago I fell down another slippery slope that had been carpeted in red flags - And when I FINALLY escaped the black hole that appears as soon as you fall for a narcissist, the bitterness and self resentment came back full force. Because HOW could I have fallen down that rabbit hole again?

I had wanted to see the good so badly, I ignored the bad that had been there all along. This time he had been more clever at hiding them.

Healing is ugly. Forgiving yourself and giving yourself grace is not easy.

Healing is ugly… And sometimes it can be unbearable.

It’s a mountain filled with holes and covered with obstacles. But happiness is just over that final edge, and the view is beautiful when you finally find it.