Everyone Heals at Their Own Pace

The title of this post is a gentle reminder, and I'd like to emphasize that we do really all heal in our own time. Healing doesn't have a definitive timeline; it could take a couple weeks, several months, years—and every minute counts. You need to remind yourself that whatever trauma you've experienced will take its own time to be dealt with emotionally and mentally, and it is absolutely necessary to talk to someone about it. I am very pro-therapy, and with the online availability of therapy it's even easier to access someone with an expertise in helping you with your type of trauma. We all need to make our mental health a priority instead of sitting in silent suffering.

I'll give you my example. When my stepdad passed away in 2006, I didn't immediately process his death. It took me until 2011 to finally emotionally collapse and make it to the psychiatrist's office, along with two different therapists who dealt with anxiety disorders. Not only was I finally processing the affect his death had on me and our family, I was under tremendous stress at school; I felt like I didn't fit in at said school and had one or two friends in my grade; and I ultimately felt like my life was crumbling. It took two years—TWO YEARS—to get back to normal. I would have a couple months of calm, then the trauma would be activated again by some trigger, and I would be back to being an anxious/depressed mess for another couple months. I kept going to therapy; I kept taking my medication; and I kept pushing myself to live my life even when I felt like there was nothing meaningful to do with it.

Since then, I've had only one real "return" of this type of anxiety, again when I was under tremendous stress at school—this time during my senior year of college. I needed my prescribed "rescue medication" (either clonazepam or something similar) to help calm me down enough to even walk out of the door and stop sobbing. I remember feeling the all too familiar heart palpitations while sitting in class, feeling like I wanted to sprint out of the room and cry. I remember having to leave certain meetings just to calm down in a bathroom stall after taking a rescue med; I'd take deep, long breaths, calm my tears, then go back into the room when I was ready—or not at all. It all depended how bad the anxiety was, but the important thing was that I was still trying every day to get back to normal.

After several months, I was finally back on track to normalcy. I had gone to my therapy appointments, committed to taking anti-depressants from now on knowing it's what my brain needed to keep stable, and kept going to class and work. The worse thing I could do was stay locked in my room, crying, and fearing the world. Now, don't get me wrong, if I needed a day to cry and stay in my room, I did it—but I didn't make a habit of it. I kept seeing my friends. I kept making it to class everyday even if my heart was pounding and I felt like I was in hyperreality due to the anxiety. I put my healing first because this is my life and I'm not going to let anxiety and depression control it.

No matter how long your healing takes, keep going. Keep doing what you need to do to heal. Go to therapy. Hang out with your friends. Make time for your family. Go on dates. Eat yummy food. Watch a movie you love. Take up a new hobby or pick an old one back up. Learn a new language. Take a class at a local community college. Keep living your life, keep putting yourself first, and you will heal in the process. It won't be easy, but it will be worth it when you come out the other side with a confidence you've never felt before. And when you feel discouraged because you feel like you're not healing "fast enough", remind yourself that everyone heals at their own pace. You are on your own journey, no one else's. We have such a long life to live that a couple years of necessary healing will all be worth it.

Take care of yourself. You're worth it.