Why I Stopped Trying to Heal (And Got My Life Back)

The Healing Hustle

Every time I relaxed, I wondered if I was bypassing.
Every time I felt joy, I waited for the trigger underneath it.
Every time I connected with someone, I searched for red flags instead of red wine.

I wasn’t healing. I was afraid to stop healing.

Because if I stopped working on myself, who would I be?
What if I missed a wound? What if I backslid?
What if all the pain I survived was for nothing?

But I didn’t escape a toxic relationship to live in a toxic recovery loop.

The Day I Walked Away (Again)

I don’t remember the exact moment I let go, not of him, but of the healing hustle, but I remember what it felt like:

Peace. Silence. Space.

I didn’t feel “empowered.” I didn’t feel “enlightened.” I just felt… free.
For the first time in years, I didn’t have anything to fix.
I didn’t need to write about it, post about it, or analyse it.

I just made coffee. Stared at the sky. Took a deep breath.
And decided to build a life that had nothing to do with what I’d survived and everything to do with what I wanted next.

Healing Didn’t Save Me. Living Did.

This is what they don’t tell you in the self-help echo chamber:
You can be addicted to healing. You can hide behind your wounds.
You can lose years waiting to feel "ready."

But freedom isn’t found in another podcast or trauma tool. It’s found in the moment you realise….you don’t need more healing. You need more you.

I’m not here to decode abusers anymore. I’m here to create. To live. To laugh loudly and dance barefoot and write books that make people uncomfortable in all the right ways.

I didn’t stop healing because I gave up.
I stopped because I woke up — and finally, I wanted more.

If this post lit something up in you, wait until next week. We’re going even deeper with: 👉 Healing Is Not My Hobby Anymore