My Healing Journey from Trauma — On My Terms

Let me just say this upfront: healing didn’t look like bubble baths and crystals for me. It didn’t look like silent retreats or perfectly curated Pinterest quotes.

My healing looked like crying on the floor in an oversized hoodie one day… and strutting into a room like I owned it in stilettos the next.

This is my healing journey: messy, personal, real -- and completely on my terms.

Trauma Has a Way of Changing You — Without Permission. There was a version of me before: carefree, bold, untouched by the weight of trauma. And then there was after. After the accident. After the heartbreak. After the loneliness. After the doctors with their cold words. After feeling trapped in a body I didn’t recognize.

Nobody prepares you for how isolating that feels. Nobody tells you how loud silence can get when your life no longer looks like it used to. The World Wanted Me to Heal a Certain Way…

Everybody had advice:

“Go to therapy.”

“Journal your feelings.”

“Stay positive.”

“Forgive and let go.”

And while those things can be helpful for some, for me… they felt like another way of being told I was doing life wrong.

I didn’t need a checklist, I needed a lifeline, I needed me. I Decided to Rewrite My Own Rules:

Healing, for me, became about little rebellions:

→ Saying no without guilt.

→ Resting without apology.

→ Cutting people off who drained me — with love, but with finality.

→ Moving my body not to punish it… but to thank it for carrying me through hell.

→ Surrounding myself with people, places, and energies that felt like home.

Some days that looked like long walks in my sneakers, music blasting in my ears.

Other days? That looked like red lipstick, heels that made me feel powerful, and stepping back into rooms I once shrank in. Both versions were valid, both versions were healing.

Healing Isn’t Pretty — But It’s Powerful.

Nobody claps for you when you choose yourself quietly, when you break cycles silently,  when you let go of pain without an audience.

But those are the most powerful moments of all. Healing, for me, wasn’t about becoming who I used to be. It was about becoming someone I never dreamed I could be — softer, stronger, and wildly unbothered by anyone else’s expectations.

If You’re Healing Too… Here’s What I Want You to Know:

→ Take your time.

→ Take up space.

→ You owe nobody an explanation for your survival.

→ Healing isn’t linear. It’s layered. It’s raw. It’s real.

Wear the sneakers when you need comfort. Rock the stilettos when you want to feel unstoppable. But whatever you do — heal in a way that feels right for you, because this journey? It’s yours and that’s what makes it beautiful.

 “She Healed Quietly”

She didn’t heal the way they told her to —

not in straight lines

not in soft whispers

not in picture-perfect moments fit for storybooks.

She healed in fragments,

in late-night tears no one saw,

in silent prayers only her heart heard. S

he healed in sneakers — walking mile after mile,

trying to outrun ghosts but finding herself instead.

She healed in stilettos — standing tall in rooms she once entered small,

letting the click of her heels be the soundtrack of survival.

She stitched herself back together

with boundaries and bravery,

with belly laughs and broken pieces,

with solitude and soul.

And no — she didn’t heal the way they told her to.

She healed louder.

She healed stronger.

She healed real.

She healed on her terms.

And that made all the difference.