Healing Feels Messy.

I feel happier. Calmer. And it feels… weird.

Recently I started the 75 Hard challenge. I’m eating better, drinking more water, actually sleeping properly for once. And my moods have shifted a lot. I wouldn’t say I feel 100% happy or fully content, but I can definitely see the light at the end of the tunnel just about coming into view. But here’s the part I don’t really understand: I feel kind of guilty for feeling happier. Not guilty for him—absolutely not. His choices were his choices, and he’ll have to learn his lessons from them. The guilt feels more like it’s directed at myself. Almost like some twisted part of me thinks I should still be in the same dark place I was two months ago.

It’s so strange. Half of my brain is pushing me to keep going, keep leaning into the progress, keep finding moments of calm and hope. But the other half is like a little voice whispering, “You don’t deserve to feel better yet.” Like I’m somehow betraying what happened to me by allowing myself to move forward. It’s almost like I’m victim-shaming myself, which makes no sense, but that’s honestly how it feels.

Healing is confusing. It’s not this straight line I thought it would be. It’s messy and weird and full of contradictions. But maybe that’s the point—it’s proof I’m moving, proof I’m shifting, proof that even if I don’t feel like I deserve it yet, I’m on my way. And maybe that’s what I need to remind myself: it’s okay to feel both. It’s okay to still have nightmares and flashbacks, and at the same time smile because I finally slept through the night. It’s okay to carry the anger and the grief, and still laugh with my daughter over something silly. Healing isn’t about erasing the pain—it’s about learning to hold the light and the dark together, without one cancelling out the other.

So if I feel happier, calmer, more in control—maybe that isn’t something to feel guilty about. Maybe it’s proof I’m surviving. Proof I’m still here. Proof I’m allowed to move forward, even if part of me still looks back.