What is healing?

Google says, “Healing is the natural process of the body recovering from an injury, illness, or emotional distress.”

Okay fine. But like… what does that even mean?

Because if that’s healing, then why does it feel like I’m doing something wrong? Sometimes I genuinely don’t understand when healing starts or when it ends. Is it when I stop crying? Or when I stop missing people? Or maybe when I stop thinking about things that hurt me? I don’t even know. Sometimes I feel like I’m in that process… but sometimes I’m like, “Wait, what if this is not healing? What if this is just surviving?” And honestly? Healing is not pretty.

It’s not aesthetic like the internet shows us. I swear, every time I open Instagram, someone is healing in Bali or lighting candles in their clean bedroom with soft music in the background. And I’m just sitting there like, “Bro, I cried three times today and I didn’t even brush my hair.”

Healing is not that. It’s messy. It’s confusing. It’s breaking down in silence and pretending to be okay in public. It’s waking up feeling fine one day and then having a full breakdown the next for no reason. It’s deleting people, deleting apps, deleting memories, and still feeling the weight. You know, healing feels like opening an old, rusted box that’s been closed for years. Dust all over it, maybe even cobwebs. And the moment you open it, boom, it’s a mess inside. Everything’s tangled. Every time you try to fix one thing, five other things come up. You clean one, and another gets dirty. It’s endless. Sometimes you just sit there, staring at the box, like… should I even open this?

And the worst part, the world doesn’t stop for you. That’s what really hurts. You could be crying your heart out, and outside, people are laughing, rushing to work, shopping, living. It’s like life doesn’t care that you’re breaking. You just want to scream, “Wait! Stop! Give me one damn moment to breathe!” But no one hears that. The world moves faster than the metro in your city, and you’re standing still.

There was a time when I thought healing would be quick. Like maybe two weeks of self-care and I’ll be fine. But no. Healing is not a “seven-day challenge.” It’s not even a one-year thing sometimes. It takes forever. And some days, you don’t even realise you’re healing until you look back. Like, suddenly you notice that the thing that used to make you cry doesn’t anymore. Or that person’s name doesn’t sting as much. That’s healing, too. Quiet, slow, invisible healing.

And let’s be real, healing isn’t about being positive all the time. Whoever started that idea should seriously stop. You can’t “positive vibe” your way through pain. Sometimes you just need to sit in it. Feel it. Be angry. Be sad. Be tired. That’s also healing. WHO says one in every eight people in the world has a mental health condition. That’s around 970 million people. Can you imagine? Almost a billion people pretending to be fine while they’re fighting battles in their heads. Some from trauma. Some from heartbreak. Some from losing themselves. But we don’t talk about it, right? Because society says, “Move on.”

I once read a story about this girl from Delhi who said, “Healing didn’t look like journaling or affirmations for me. It looked like crying in public bathrooms and still going to class. ”That hit hard. Because yeah, sometimes healing is just showing up even when you’re falling apart.

And you know what else? Healing doesn’t mean “being strong” all the time. Sometimes strength is crying in your bed and not hating yourself for it. Sometimes it’s asking for help. Sometimes it’s saying “I’m not okay” and not feeling guilty for it. I’ve realised that strength doesn’t always look strong. Sometimes it looks like weakness.

And can we talk about how healing is also lonely? Like really lonely. You stop talking to people because they don’t get it. You isolate because explaining yourself feels tiring. And then when you’re alone, it’s quiet but heavy. You start missing the noise you once hated.

I’ve been there, I think we all have. That weird in-between stage where you’re not okay but not broken either. You’re just… existing.

Sometimes I think healing is like trying to untangle fairy lights after a long time. You pull one string, and everything knots more. You get frustrated, maybe even cry, maybe throw it away. But then one day, you try again, and suddenly one light turns on. Just one. And it’s enough to make you keep going.

That’s what healing is. That one light. You know, we read about these stories online, people like Vansh Kumar from Delhi, who was partially paralysed as a kid but fought back, studied, cracked NEET 2025, and now wants to be a doctor. Imagine the pain, the emotional breakdowns, the frustration, but he made it. His healing wasn’t just physical. It was mental, emotional, and spiritual. That’s real strength.

So if you’re healing, don’t compare your journey to anyone’s. Healing is not a race. There’s no “fastest healed person” award. You’re allowed to take your time. You’re allowed to rest. You’re allowed to stop pretending. I know it feels endless. Like every time you fix one thing, something else breaks. But someday, you’ll wake up and realise the pain isn’t heavy anymore. It’s still there, maybe faintly, but it doesn’t crush you like before. You’ll laugh again, not the fake kind, real laughter. You’ll look in the mirror and not hate who you see.

That’s healing. So if you’re reading this, maybe lying on your bed, scrolling endlessly, tired of everything, please, don’t lose hope. You don’t have to be okay today. You don’t even have to try to be okay. Just breathe. That’s enough. You are not broken. You’re just rebuilding. Slowly. Quietly. In your own messy way. And one day, when someone else feels like you do right now, you’ll be the one telling them, “Hey, it gets better.” Because it will. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not next week. But it will.

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