Healing? I Thought You Said Dealing.

Healing sounds great in theory, just like kale; or forgiveness.

But in practice, healing is waking up at 2 p.m., staring at the ceiling like it insulted your mother, and convincing yourself that eating Top Ramen counts as self-care. (maybe it does if you add veggies)

My friends keep telling me, “Be kind to yourself.”
And I’m like, “Okay but also… HOW?”
Do I pat myself on the head after I cry in the bathroom for the third time today? Or maybe high-five the version of me that didn’t send a ‘miss you’ text to someone who deserves to rot?

I’ve been trying to heal, truly. I even downloaded a meditation app. Fell asleep during it. Woke up to my own snoring and an ad for foot cream. Is this progress?

But here’s the thing: I’m still here.
Still standing-ish.
Still writing instead of spiraling. Well, spiraling just a bit, not gonna lie.
Still refusing to let the sad part of my brain win without a fight (or at least a sarcastic comeback).

So if you’re healing or dealing too, awkwardly, messily, like a raccoon in a therapist’s office, hey, same!

We might be trash. But we’re resilient trash.

Stay weird, stay alive. More storiyan soon, amigos.