It reminds me of something my Dad used to say in his Mental Makeover group: “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.” Google will tell you insanity is being mentally ill, foolish, or irrational, and I can’t lie—I’ve lived in that space for far too long. I spent years pointing fingers outward, avoiding the tough truths, but as I mentioned in my last blog, therapy changed that. It was the step that made me turn inward, hold myself accountable, and really begin the hard, messy, beautiful process of healing.
Media makes healing look so linear, but if you’ve experienced even one phase of it, you know that’s not true. Healing isn’t something you just finish—it’s work, absolute work. And for me, healing has been about giving myself another chance. I’ve often called it my pursuit of happyness, inspired by a movie I absolutely adore. Like Chris Gardner, I’ve faced my share of struggles to triumph, and most of the time, I’ve had to face those struggles alone.
I think back to my late teens when my healing journey unofficially began. It started with forgiving myself. I was someone who looked happy on the outside, who could light up a room, and who didn’t seem to need or want for anything. But behind that facade was a girl carrying anger and baggage so heavy it led to self-harm, reckless choices, and the kind of pain that made life feel unbearable. Losing my Dad was the final blow, and for a long time, I didn’t think I’d recover.
When I met my Husband, I didn’t realize it at the time, but that was one of the first steps toward healing. He saw through everything I was trying to hide and asked me, straight up, what was really going on. It’s funny to hear him tell the story now because I really thought I had my life painted and sealed. But he was the first person to call me out and make me realize I could face the things I was suppressing.
Our relationship wasn’t some magical cure, but it became clear early on that I had partnered with someone who was willing to walk with me on this journey. Surprisingly, a lot of my early healing work happened in the safety of our relationship. He helped me confront trauma I hadn’t even named, and I valued his perspective in a way I hadn’t let myself value anyone else’s since my Dad.
If you know me, you know how much my Dad meant to me. He was my anchor, the one person who made the world make sense. My Husband stepped into that role in many ways, and while I leaned on both of them, I eventually realized that no one else could do the work for me. They could support me, but healing had to come from within.
Another huge step in my journey was going back to school. My Husband and I decided to attend Clarion University together, and for the first time, I was completely removed from my comfort zone. I had no reason to go home, and I had to figure out who I was without the safety net I’d always relied on.
That experience was incredible—until it wasn’t. I was thriving: making the Dean’s List, working at the library, and fully embracing my love for Library Science. But when summer came, I wanted to keep pushing forward. I got two jobs, stayed enrolled in classes, and expected my Husband to do the same. When he chose to take a break instead, I was furious. His grades weren’t great, and in my mind, taking a break wasn’t an option.
That summer taught me so much. It was my first taste of real independence, and it was also the moment I realized how much I was relying on someone else to validate my journey. Healing meant understanding that things don’t always go as planned, and it meant finding the courage to keep moving forward, even when I didn’t know what was next.
Now, healing looks different in my life. It’s not always loud or transformative in obvious ways—it’s in the quiet moments. It’s in setting boundaries and learning to honor them. It’s in being more patient with myself when I feel like I’m falling short. Healing is giving myself grace to rest when I need to and celebrating small victories, even if no one else notices them.
It’s in the way I’m showing up for my kids, choosing to break cycles and give them a mother who is present and growing. It’s in how I communicate with my Husband, acknowledging that we’re still learning how to support one another as individuals. And it’s in the way I’m starting to trust myself again—trusting that I’m capable, even when life feels overwhelming.
Healing isn’t perfect or linear, but for me, it’s become a daily practice. It’s a mindset that requires me to reflect, release, and renew—sometimes in the same day. My Dad would say "Change your mind, change your life" it was the mental makeover motto. Every time I choose to do things differently, even in the smallest ways, I’m reminded that I’m capable of change, my mind and my life are changing.
Healing, for me, is ongoing. It’s not about getting to a perfect place—it’s about giving myself the chance to grow, to change, and to love the person I’m becoming. And as I move through this year, I’m holding onto this truth:
“I’m operating differently so that things can happen differently for me.”
Because healing isn’t just about reflecting on where I’ve been—it’s about believing in where I’m going.
