Healing Isn’t Linear (and That’s Okay)

There’s something about birthdays (especially the big ones) that make you pause, reflect, and take stock.

But I think there’s something about being a fire sign that not only makes me reflect, but grow in ways that (let me be honest) I wouldn’t choose to do in the fashion that it happens. It’s uncomfortable. Like growing pains. Or more accurately, outgrowing people, habits, situations that no longer serve me.

And it’s not the kind of healing anyone really talks about. The kind that feels more like unraveling than rising. The kind that happens in quiet, messy moments. For me, this kind of growth started around 12 years ago, when my life could only be described as a ticking time bomb. Waiting for the inevitable explosion that would crack everything wide open and unknowingly set me on the path I’m on now.

Had that not happened, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be writing this.

You’d think that after more than a decade of healing, reflecting, learning I’d have spotted the signs long ago. But no. I think the penny only dropped recently, after a pretty bumpy summer and the realisation that I really should have reached for more of my bespoke Yuzu, Petitgrain and Ho Leaf inhaler. Because when life feels overwhelming, I forget too. I know what helps. I know what grounds me. But I still forget.

That’s why I’m so glad I booked myself in for that 90-minute aromatherapy massage halfway through the summer. It gave me space to soften. To breathe. To start treating myself with more compassion.

Because we often imagine healing as this clean, linear process:

Eat the right foods. Sit in meditation. Journal. Pray. Go for long walks. Say your affirmations. All the things. And yes these are good. These are the tools we need to thrive.

But what I’m learning (again and again) is that we also need to be kind to ourselves when healing doesn’t look pretty.

We need compassion for the nights we reach for the sweet treat even though we know it’ll make us feel worse. For the mornings that start with coffee number three, just to feel semi-functional. For the late-night scrolling to (what my sister and I lovingly call) “stupid o’clock.” For forgetting the very practices we know support us; because sometimes it’s just too much.

And on those days, when the big things feel far away, I’m learning to settle for something small.

Because no, I might not have the energy to pull out every essential oil I own and sit there inhaling each one until something settles me. But I can grab an inhaler stick.

I can spritz a little lavender water to help me nod off.

I can play music that brings me joy or comfort.

I can lie in a warm bath and just rest.

Small things, done with intention, have power.

To quote Gabby Bernstein, it’s those daily small right actions that bring us back into alignment. Not the perfect days. Not the flawless routines. The small, compassionate choices that say: I see you. I’ve got you. You’re still doing the work.

Because life is full of trials right now (for so many of us). And if we want to keep showing up, if we want to keep growing, healing, and holding space for others, we have to strengthen our compassion for ourselves first.

Only then can we begin to see the results we truly deserve.

And that might mean accepting that life and healing don’t always look like we imagined they would.

They’re messier. They come in spirals. They pause. They surge.

But they’re real.

They’re human.

And they’re yours.

Vanessa x

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