With great suffering comes profound healing.

We have all been in life altering situations. We have all experienced ‘transit damage’ that tore us apart, shattered our spirit into needle-in-a-hay-stack pieces, and bent our mind into thinking we would never have enough strength to get back up again.

Yet, we heal.

Every single time – we deny, we grieve, we accept, and we transform. But this transformation is never calm. It is not a peaceful hermit phase. It is not a cocoon that turns us into pretty butterflies that gracefully fly off into the sunset.

Healing is exhausting. It’s a gruesome process that drains an already empty cup. It’s a vacuum that sucks away every bit of remaining love that never got the chance to find a home.

And the most painful part is that at one point, you have to do it all over again. Healing is terrifying because it is not a once-in-a-lifetime encounter. It is the unwelcomed visitor that knocks your door down, eats all the food in your fridge, sleeps in your bed while you lay on the hardwood floor waiting for it to leave. And it never leaves.

It often comes unannounced, years after it has already passed. It comes on a Friday night while you are eating popcorn and watching a movie from the comfort of your own couch. Then you suddenly start crying because something triggers your ‘transit damage’. And with that, comes the painful memory of how you healed – not just this one time, but every time you thought it would be your last forced transformation. You are not on your couch anymore. You are back to each day you spent on the hardwood floor waiting for the pain to leave. And it never does.