things nobody tells you about healing.

nobody tells you that healing is loud sometimes. that some days it looks less like peace and more like finally letting yourself be angry about something you were never allowed to be angry about before.

nobody tells you that you'll grieve the version of yourself that survived by being small. that even though you're glad she's gone, you'll miss her a little — the way you miss any version of yourself that tried so hard.

nobody tells you that healed doesn't mean you never get triggered. it means you know how to come back from it. the gap between the trigger and the spiral gets smaller. you start to recognise the spiral before you're in it. that's the thing. that's the whole thing. nobody tells you that some relationships can't survive your healing. not because they were bad, but because they were built around the version of you that needed to be managed. when you stop needing to be managed, the dynamic doesn't know what to do with itself.

nobody tells you how quiet it eventually gets. how one day you realise you've gone three weeks without that particular heaviness. and you don't celebrate it because you're afraid to jinx it. but you notice. you quietly, privately notice. that's enough. that's more than enough.