There are certain moments in life that leave us changed.

Loss. Violation. Shock. Betrayal. Sudden endings. Lingering wounds. These experiences leave an imprint. And while the world tells us to be strong, to “bounce back,” or to find a silver lining—many of us carry an unspoken truth:

Trauma doesn’t leave us the same. It reshapes us.

That reshaping can be uncomfortable to look at, even harder to name. It’s easier to pretend that with enough therapy, time, or spiritual work, we can somehow return to who we were before it all happened.

But what if we’re not meant to go back?

What if healing isn’t about reclaiming who we were—but about honoring who we’ve become?

The Unspoken Ache for “Before”

So many women I work with carry this silent longing:

“I just want to feel like myself again.”

We speak of healing as if it’s a destination. A fixed point. A return to center.

But what if that version of you—the one before the heartbreak, the accident, the diagnosis, the leaving, the unraveling—isn’t who you’re becoming?

What if your trauma has reshaped you in ways that are not just painful, but also meaningful?

That can be hard to accept, especially when we’ve been taught that healing means undoing the damage. That if we work hard enough, cry deep enough, analyze long enough, we can undo the imprint. That we can get back to the unbroken girl we used to be.

But maybe… that’s not healing at all.

Maybe that’s resistance in disguise.

The Beauty in What’s Bent

I want you to imagine a tree.

Not the kind that stands perfectly symmetrical, tall, untouched.
But one that has grown in difficult conditions—shaped by wind, twisted by storms, its branches curved and gnarled.

Is it less beautiful?

No. In fact, it’s often the tree that catches your breath as you pass by. The one that tells a story. The one that endured.

We don’t question the beauty of that tree. We see its resilience. Its grace.
And yet, when it comes to ourselves, we grieve our curves. Our crookedness. Our scars.

The loss of how we used to be. 

What if trauma reshapes us the way storms reshape trees? Not to ruin us—but to reveal something different. Something beautiful in its own right.

What Is Healing, Really?

Ask yourself this gently:

Is your pursuit of healing fueled by love—or by a subtle rejection of the parts of you that still ache? By the fact that you’re wounded? That it happened? That you’ve been changed? 

If healing means rejecting what happened to you, judging the parts of you still in pain, or silencing the adaptations that helped you survive—it may never feel complete. 

Healing, true healing, might not be about becoming who you were before.

It might be about integrating who you are now with softness and compassion.

Let the Wounded Parts Belong

There’s a difference between trying to fix yourself and learning to belong to yourself.

When we strive endlessly for healing, we may be unknowingly reinforcing the idea that something in us is unacceptable. That something must be changed in order for us to be whole.

But what if the thing that changes everything isn’t another breakthrough—but a quiet shift in relationship?

What if instead of pushing away the part of you that was wounded… you sat beside her?
What if instead of trying to heal her, you welcomed her back into your heart?

What if you placed your hand on your heart, felt the pain, and said: This, too, belongs.

Belonging is the soil in which healing takes root.
Not perfection. Not performance. Not progress.

Belonging says:

“Even in your pain, you are still worthy.”
“Even with your limp, you are still whole.”
“You do not have to earn your wholeness. You already are.”

When you bring belonging to the part of you that you’re trying to heal, you end the subtle rejection, you stop fighting against the pain, and instead, soften into it. 

And when you soften, you relax and that’s when your being, mind, and body open to newness. 

Healing Through Wholeness

When you stop demanding that your pain disappear in order for you to be okay… something softens.

You stop treating your trauma like an enemy.
You stop measuring your worth against your recovery.
You stop performing wellness and start embodying wholeness.

And in that space, you begin to live again. Not as someone who’s been broken and fixed, but as someone who’s been reshaped—and now carries a beauty that cannot be replicated.

An Invitation to Rethink Healing

So this is my invitation to you, dear one:

• Let go of the timeline.
  

• Let go of the need to get back to who you were.
  

• Let go of the belief that healing is about being unmarked.
  

Instead, consider this:

• What if the version of you right now—the one with tender places and newly formed boundaries and deeper wisdom—is the truest you’ve ever been?
  

• What if your healing isn’t about erasing the trauma, but about learning to live with grace inside the shape it left you?
  

• What if your story is not about being restored, but about being revealed?
  

You are not behind.
You are not broken.
You are a tree that has weathered storms and grown more exquisite with each bend.

Healing is not about fixing. It’s about belonging.

And you belong—fully, beautifully, forever—to yourself.