When it comes to the process of healing, I’ve always been super wary of the intersection of religion and therapy. Growing up, church was one of the most dramatic spaces I ever attended. There was always some sort of scandal or exposing someone’s secret. I never remembered it as a healing space or place of refuge. I always envisioned that church would be similar to a hospital, where people come in to seek attention for their ailments, but what kind of ailments would I bring? Would I have to be openly ridiculed to be healed? Where could I go to deal with my emotional and mental well-being if the church wasn’t that place?

Before y’all start side-eying me, let me say this. I’m not encouraging anyone to abandon religion or any spiritual practices. Believing in something greater than yourself is something you should do on your own terms. I just knew that with my experiences, I needed something more. When I first started therapy years ago, I was already skeptical about “telling all my business” to a complete stranger. We already know the stigmas around mental health in the black community, so it took a minute, but after a few sessions with someone completely objective, I began to feel more and more comfortable, uncovering some things that I had forced to the back of my memory. Through that discovery, I recognized that there were several things inhibiting my ability to even recognize what was causing some of my problematic behaviors. The suicide  attempts were masking trauma I buried. I was stealing and lying, in hopes to get caught and be helped. I became so depressed I allowed myself to deteriorate purposely, so someone would notice that there was an issue. The therapy only medicated whatever problems I was experiences and I never took the time to explore them because I wasn’t in a place to do so. Fast forward to 3 years later and re-entering therapy after overcoming depression, anxiety and other mental illness, I was finally ready to face the root causes of what was causing everything to spiral out of control.

There are seasons for all times in our lives, and sometimes we want to jump the gun. For years, I was in a season self-destruction and hiding, which lead me through all kinds of paths that were counterproductive to me realizing my truths. When I finally got through that season, I walked into a season of self-discovery. It was here that I had to let myself feel the pain that I tried to ignore. I had to name the things and people that hurt me and give space for my hurt to exist as an actual emotion, and not just a distant memory. As difficult as it was, I had to sit in the hurt. I had to remember what I had done and what had happened to me. I had to make amends for the pain I caused others during this process and restore any damaged relationships that were open to being mended. I’m still working in this season of discovery and restoration, and I know the next phase is forgiving myself and actually allowing the healing to happen.

Healing is one of those things that doesn’t come overnight, but lots of people in the process want it to be a quick fix. The very thought that going to therapy and switching out therapeutic regimens until you get a quick fix, is one of the most dangerous paths to instability. Trauma, whenever it happens, isn’t one of those things that happens once and we forget it happens, so fixing it shouldn’t be a similar process. We have to take the opportunity to dive deep into the roots of what causes our trauma and from my experience, 3 or 4 session didn’t even give me the opportunity to remember everything that happened to me.

In all honesty, the road gets a bit turbulent. It may even be a bit treacherous at times, but powering through it makes all the difference. This week has been really difficult. I’ve had a few life changes and haunting memories that made it difficult to sleep for a couple of days. I felt like a failure a few times, had to rearrange my life and consider my future, and recognize that the traditions that I’ve creating for myself may not be something I’ll ever get to share. I could’ve easily slipped back into my old habits, but I powered through. I’ve fought through the ugly, the tears, the commitals, and the actual fight to stay alive. The ability to persevere comes with time, but I promise you it’s worth it. Stay on the path, even when it gets ugly. Fight on even if you cry. Find someone who can hold you accountable, and stay the course. Never discount your progress or compare your journey to anyone else’s. It’s your space to grow and heal, and you deserve it. You’re worth it, love.

Still healing. All 2019.