As The Leaves Turn Brown

I was looking forward to this moment all summer long - not exactly with anticipation, but with curiosity and acknowledgement. Brown leaves meant that the “dog days were over.”

This summer was the most intense and special one of my life. It was a period of awakening and healing. It was excruciatingly lonely, and it was so mainly by choice.

I spent two years in therapy, and now I can safely say that during that period, I didn’t heal.

I was learning how to heal.

I was listening, absorbing, and practicing. Once I felt strong enough to continue exploring my emotions on my own, that’s when the real healing took place. But it would not have been possible without what preceded it, and it would not have been possible without the proper mental tools and the knowledge of how to use them, given to me by my therapist.

For a short period of only a month or two, I was experiencing waves of revelations about my whole life thus far. My mind was doing a fast-speed spring cleaning, taking all the contents of every drawer out into the light, so I could take a good look at them and re-evaluate. Then I could put them back where they belonged, or simply throw them away.

Healing is a lonely journey

If you’re invested in healing, there inevitably comes a time when two very important things happen:

First, you no longer need somebody else’s approval, apology, or perspective. Every single friend or relative you’ve confided in so far will seem inappropriate as a confidant for a variety of reasons, therapists included. You are confident you can manage on your own this time, seeing things clearly for what they are, feelings and prejudice excluded.

When I say this, I don’t mean I haven’t shared anything with anyone at all. I tend to talk a lot, and I’m very open and social. The most important thoughts and feelings, though, I always keep to myself. They are sacred.

The second thing is crucial: you finally see that the people you’ve trusted most in your life are also the ones who have, intentionally or unintentionally, let you down and hurt you the most. You are, essentially, healing from their impact on you.

You need to put order to your own thoughts and feelings without their opinions or points of view. It is not about proving anything - it’s about acknowledging that you’ve been neglected, patronised, abused, or made fun of, whatever the scars may be.

Recognising emotionally abusive patterns in your most important relationships, and being able to see familiar situations in a new light, pinpointing exactly what should not have been allowed, what crossed your boundaries, is, on one side, infuriating, and on the other, it is the pinnacle of healing for me.

It is true that during this period, changes in relationships happen not only in your head but in reality as well. There are plenty of inspirational quotes on social media about this phenomenon. People talk of energy, vibes, and whatnot. In my experience, everything comes down to respect. I no longer have any interest in staying in touch with people who have disrespected me and who, I know, would continue to do so in the future if given the chance.

I do not want to compromise my well-being in favour of anyone. I voice my frustration, and I do this loudly, even aggressively at times. If I had known that by doing so, I could have earned respect in certain relationships where it was lacking, I would have done it much sooner.

The fact is, we do not know beforehand. You don’t truly believe words or advice until you are living those same words, experiencing that same advice, coming from yourself.

Healing is lonely. It’s painful. It can feel like betrayal toward the ones you love, and it can fill your heart with anger toward your own self.

But healing is also empowering beyond belief. When you’re healing, your habits change, your unhealthy coping mechanisms give way, and your trust in your own capabilities grows immensely. This leads to new opportunities, new acquaintances, new experiences, and a reinvention of your own self. Difficult and hurtful situations continue to occur, but you believe you’re able to get through them. And you actually do. You use this new strength to build resilience.

It’s not a fairyland, it’s just living in the present and recognising potential when you see it.

It’s facing your fears regularly and conquering them on your own.

It is not joyous. But it is enlightening.

NIB & Ember