Maybe I won’t heal enough for you.

Maybe I won’t heal enough for you.

Maybe there will always be parts of me that still flinch when voices get too loud. Maybe there will always be nights where I shut down, where I overthink, where I need reassurance more than I wish I did.

Maybe I will always carry pieces of what happened to me.

Healing is not as simple as people make it sound. It is not waking up one morning completely whole, untouched by what broke you. It is not never being triggered again. It is not becoming “easy” to love.

Healing is messy. It is exhausting. It is crying over things you thought you moved past. It is apologizing for wounds you did not create. It is learning how to communicate when your whole life taught you to stay quiet. It is learning how to trust when trust was always used against you.

And maybe I won’t heal enough to become the version of me that makes everyone comfortable.

Maybe I will still need patience.

Maybe I will still need softness.

Maybe I will still need time.

But I am trying.

I am trying in ways nobody sees. I am trying every time I choose not to run. Every time I speak instead of shutting down. Every time I stay when it would be easier to leave. Every time

I remind myself that not everyone is going to hurt me the way they did.

That has to count for something.

Because the truth is, healing is not about becoming perfect. It is about becoming aware. It is about taking responsibility for the pain you carry without blaming yourself for having it in the first place.

I may never heal enough to erase what happened to me.

But I am healing enough to stop letting it define me.

And maybe that is enough