When Healing Took a Detour
Even after meaningful progress, there came a point when healing stalled. Not because I had given up, but because I was craving a sense of normalcy and just wanted to forget about it all for awhile.
After the huge win of clearing mold from my body and landing a high-level job, I fell into a routine. Even though I was still dealing with severe chronic pain, a swollen knee, and recurring infections, I desperately just wanted to live like a "normal person” again. Having gone non-stop for years, I reached a point where I needed a break from it all. While completely ignoring my health was nearly impossible, returning to a consistent work routine made it a little easier to push it to the wayside.
Which is exactly what I did. My healing stalled, and unfortunately, I went in a negative direction as the only relief I could get from the pain was alcohol. It was like any other person going to happy hour after work, except this was just after COVID, when work became remote for many of us around the world, so my happy hour was walking to the kitchen after logging off to make a stiff drink. One drink turned into two, and sometimes even three. It was the only thing that numbed the physical pain and also numbed the mental and emotional distress of my relationship and environment at that time. I knew this was the last thing I should be doing to myself but I felt like I had no other choice. Which brings us to an important topic I haven’t discussed yet: Sad but True.
I know that was a long one but it’s super important to see the full picture beyond the illness; things that contribute to one’s dis-ease and that can potentially prevent one’s ability to heal. Again, these dynamics can show up not only in romantic relationships, but also with friends, family members, and even coworkers ..so stay safe out there!
I ended that relationship the last few days of 2023, and the moment I did, something shifted. Even though it was one of the hardest choices I’ve ever made, knowing that my family as I knew it would never be the same again, it felt as though something sacred and divine stepped in to carry me forward. The only way I can describe it is like having a gale-force wind at my back, propelling me out of that house as quickly as possible. From the day I ended the relationship after eight years together to the day I moved out, it took just six weeks, which feels remarkably fast considering everything involved in finding a home, going through the approval and mortgage process, handling inspections, and more. And all of this happened during an extremely low-inventory, high-demand market, when many people were competing for the same homes and bidding well over asking prices.
I remember praying every night in those final weeks that my body would hold on just one more day, and then just one more day after that, until I could get into my new place and collapse. My heart was beating so irregularly then, and at times it was so intense that I could barely catch my breath. But I made it. And yes, I did collapse once I got there. Although that time marked the beginning of the worst emotional pain of my life, it was also the beginning of healing on a whole new level.
