What is the the Messy Side Of Growth
Healing Is Messy
I am writing this with matted hair. My hair is so unbrushed; it passed “tangled” two days ago. Instead of brushing it out, I am eating a small cake. Not a piece of cake. I’m working through an entire cake as I type this out. I also have my phone on Do Not Disturb. The number of people I need to text back is growing. This makes me super anxious and contributes to my sitting with a matted-up ponytail that needs to be addressed before scissors get involved. Everything is very overwhelming. I woke up crying.
If you work on yourself long enough, you’ll stumble upon “healing isn’t linear.” Healing isn’t linear means there is no finite system to undo years of damage and pain. At least not in the one step, two steps; always forward and never back kind of way. In my experience, it’s more two steps forward and five steps back. We can use my right now as an example. A few weeks ago, I had some breakthroughs. I processed some significant trauma. I was doing well. I felt well. And then, I became a little unwell. This is where “healing isn’t linear” comes in.
Coping Isn’t Healing
Because I’ve spent decades using unhealthy coping mechanisms to avoid feelings of discomfort, my brain’s path of least resistance looks like unbrushed hair and Do Not Disturb mode. My neural pathways don’t like change. This is most evident in how I have difficulty regulating intense emotions. However, this path of least resistance is not synonymous with can’t change. I’m in that phase of healing where I’m attempting to rewire my circuitry. I’m doing this because I believe we can form new pathways in our brains. We can modify internal experiences, build these new pathways, and inhibit old behavioral patterns. It just takes time and a lot of practice, which isn’t linear. This can be disheartening.
One of my favorite lines of poetry is, “even sunshine burns when you get too much.” I actually saw this on Instagram the other day. It was written in a beautiful font and stood out on a perfectly curated, pastel background. The post talked about putting the pieces back together. And it resonated. But as I’m writing this, I can’t help and think about the duality of looking pretty while talking about putting the pieces back together. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I liked the post. It stuck. But sometimes, things we see don’t accept how we feel.
Which is why I’m writing this. I want to validate you, and I want to validate the messy side of growth. The not pretty side is real, and I understand how exhausting putting all the pieces back together actually is, especially when you have an arsenal of tools to use. Especially when you know what you should do, especially when you know you can but just can’t. Being tired all of the time gets old, and I like to compound this tiredness with a little shame. I feel ashamed because I know how to do this. I know how to stand. And yet, I don’t. At least not today. Because today, feeling and processing and healing are too much. I’ll try again tomorrow.
And that’s okay
Besides texting back all of the friends, I’m ignoring and taking control of this matted ponytail; writing this post was the last thing I wanted to do tonight. I don’t have the energy. My mental capacity is so depleted; it’s taken me hours to put a few sentences on paper. But I felt a pull, an ethereal call, to capture myself in the midst of a minor depressive state. Why?
Because the majority of the time, I write about the aftermath. I talk about how I stood up. I advise on standing up. And not to undermine any advice I’ve ever received or given post-depressive state, but sometimes you need to hear that someone else hasn’t brushed her hair either. Let’s see all the angles. And one of those angles is: despite having a plethora of resources, a solid support system, and tangible confirmations that I am better off today than I was a year ago, it’s still hard. Trying is hard. Today was hard. Yet, I tried.
On paper, my trying may not look significant to anyone but me. I think this is why trying is so tough. Sometimes, at the end of the day, it looks like I’ve done nothing. But those nothings are little somethings. They are little, tiny, some things I didn’t do. For: I didn’t stalk a ghost of Christmas past on social media. I didn’t pour a drink. I didn’t set up little tests for people I care about so that I could be disappointed. I didn’t guilt-trip anyone, and I didn’t actively sabotage my progress by starting new fires. There is a win in that.
So, if you’re struggling, if you’re pissed off that you’re anxious again if you’re tired from being depressed again, or you’re just generally frustrated that you’re looping back to something you thought you had moved on from. . .this post is for you. You’re not alone. Know that it’s okay to take a breather because I’m taking a breather. Know that you can restart tomorrow because I’m restarting tomorrow. Know that you don’t have to explain anything to anyone, but there’s no shame in doing so either. Know it’s okay to backslide. Know it’s okay to be messy. Okay? We got this.
Hi, I’m Victoria. A thirty-something from Tennessee. I’m a creative who enjoys experiential writing. I’m fascinated by the mind—especially in areas of trauma, anxiety, identity, and relationships with self and others.