For
the longest time, I’ve always believed the body knew how to heal itself.
Whenever I fell sick, I would simply wait it out. No fuss, no medication, no
stopping for too long. Even when I can’t really function, I thought the body
was clever enough to know what to do. Give it a little time, and eventually, it
would heal and return to normal. I think I treated my heart the same way.
I
have been heartbroken before. I carried scars I never really looked at. I have
gone through things that hurt more than I admitted, and my answer was always
the same: keep going. Let time do its work. Eventually, it will
heal. But perhaps surviving something and healing from it are not the same
thing.
A
would still needs to be attended. A tired body still needs sleep. A heart that
has been carrying too much still needs somewhere quiet to put it down.
Sometimes healing isn’t about waiting for the pain to disappear. Sometimes it
is about giving yourself enough love to stay beside the pain while it does. Maybe
the body doesn’t simply heal because time passes. Maybe it heals because we
finally give it what it has been asking for; rest, care, patience, space and
attention. Perhaps that is what I have been missing all these years.
I
kept waiting for myself to feel better, without ever asking myself what I
needed to feel better. So maybe I don’t need to be stronger this time. Maybe I
just need to be kinder to the person who has been carrying everything for so
long. For a long time, I finally understood, healing isn’t something we
simply wait for, it’s giving ourselves the permission to heal. To love
ourselves better.