The Whiplash of Healing (And Why It Still Catches Me Off Guard)

If you’ve read my blog for more than five minutes, you already know I’ve been on this healing ride for a long while. Long enough to have collected a whole scrapbook of “Oh wow, I finally get it” moments… and an equally thick stack of “what fresh hell is this?” ones.

You’d think by now I’d be used to what I can only describe as “the whiplash,” the emotional ebbs, the flows, and the rogue waves that smack you right in the face when you’re just trying to mind your business.

Hate to break it to you, but… nope. Still not used to it. Not even close.

When Every Emotion Shows Up Uninvited

The last 48 hours have felt like hitting some kind of emotional epicenter, like every feeling I’ve ever had RSVP’d “yes” and showed up early. It’s blindsided me a bit, if I’m honest. I still don’t know what to do with all of it. I’m just here, trying to breathe through the overwhelm and trying not to judge myself for having a nervous system that occasionally goes full fireworks display for no clear reason.

But this is the work, right? Showing up even when you don’t feel ready.

The Junk Drawer of Feelings We Pretend Doesn’t Exist

Sitting with what hurts instead of shoving it back into the “deal with it later” drawer. We’ve all done it, right? Slid something painful into that imaginary junk drawer with a little, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll deal with that later,” even though we know “later” could mean anywhere from next week to the next decade. And then one day that drawer bursts open like a pissed-off jack-in-the-box, and suddenly you’re knee-deep in feelings you did not schedule into your day.

That’s kind of what this week has felt like. Like the universe leaned over, tapped me on the shoulder, and went, “Hey, remember that unresolved emotional rubble you were hoping would sort itself out? Yeah… about that.” And listen, I try to be a good sport about healing. I try to roll with whatever comes up. But even I have to laugh when my nervous system decides to deliver all its notifications at once like some chaotic emotional iPhone: You have 47 new feelings.

Cool. Thanks. Exactly what I wanted this Saturday.

My Nervous System’s Saturday Gift

And what’s funny is that none of the feelings I’m having are new. They’re all familiar regulars: fear, sadness, longing, and that weird anticipatory dread that pops up for no good reason, just arriving louder than usual. Like someone turned the emotional volume knob up to eleven and then walked away. It’s a lot. And my instinct, the little old me who learned to survive chaos by shutting down, still whispers, “Push it down. Make it neat. Don’t feel all of that at once.”

The Old Instinct to Shut Down (And Why It Doesn’t Work Anymore)

But I can’t do that anymore. I mean, I could, but every time I’ve tried, it’s ended in absolute fuckery. And that takes more out of me than sitting with these feelings and just letting them be and feeling them. So here I am doing just that.

But what people don’t realize is “sitting with it” sometimes looks like staring at a wall, drinking lukewarm tea, internally screaming, and wondering why healing doesn’t come with a handbook or at least a troubleshooting guide. I could use something like, “If you are suddenly overwhelmed by feelings for no apparent reason, please try turning yourself off and back on again.”

But no. All we get is the mess.

Healing Isn’t Neat, But It Is Honest

But at the end of the day, that’s the point. Because healing isn’t about becoming someone who never gets overwhelmed. It’s about becoming someone who doesn’t abandon themselves when they do. And let me tell you, that one stings a little. Because if I’m being brutally honest, the person I’ve abandoned the most over the years is me. I don’t say that to beat myself up, just to acknowledge the truth. When you grow up believing your feelings are “too much,” you learn to make yourself small. You learn to take up as little emotional space as possible.

Learning Not to Abandon Myself

But I’m not doing that anymore. Or at least I’m trying really hard not to. So here I am, trying to stay with myself through all of this intensity. Trying to remind the younger parts of me that they’re not alone this time. To breathe instead of run. And trying to trust that there’s nothing wrong with me for having big feelings; there’s just a lot inside that finally feels safe enough to surface.

And maybe that’s what this emotional epicenter really is: proof that something inside me believes I can handle what’s coming up now. Proof that my system isn’t breaking, it’s opening.

Messily. Loudly. Inconveniently.

But still opening.

For Anyone Riding Their Own Rogue Wave Right Now

If you’re here too, if you’re riding your own rogue wave right now, just know you’re not doing it wrong. Sometimes the heart cracks open not because you’re falling apart, but because something inside you is finally ready to be seen. And honestly? As brutal as it feels… that’s kind of beautiful.

Photo by Anandu Vinod on Unsplash