What Healing Means to Me Now
I used to believe that healing was a destination—something you reach after enough time or effort. But I’ve come to understand that healing isn’t a place.
Healing is a state of being—where the mind feels lighter, the heart more open, and emotions flow freely, allowing you to truly appreciate life and savor its moments.
To me, healing is a lifestyle—a daily act of genuine self-love by learning to live beautifully even with the scars and remembering that I am enough, even in my brokenness.
Healing is a choice—because if we don’t tend to our wounds from childhood to adulthood, they won’t simply go away. They’ll resurface and bleed into our relationships, self-worth, and happiness. Even in our golden years, they may haunt us. I learned that healing must be holistic. It’s not just about fixing one part of ourselves. True healing embraces every part of our being—the body, heart, mind, and spirit—and the relationships that shape us.
Then came the exhaustion—those sleepless nights spent tending to a newborn who was adjusting to a new world, having just come from your womb and wound.
I learned that the body is not just a vessel—it’s the foundation of happiness, wealth, and success.
That’s why I now prioritize rest, nourishment, exercise, and sleep.
Because without a strong body, it becomes so much harder to heal any other part of life.
There are mistakes I’ve made, decisions I’ve regretted, and failures I’ve had to accept.
But I’ve learned this: I cannot truly forgive others until I’ve first offered that grace to myself.
How do you know when you’ve truly forgiven someone?
For me, it’s when you can recall the memory, but the pain no longer holds power over you.
Emotions are tricky. No matter how deeply you bury them, they always find a way to rise to the surface.
And when they do, the real question is: How will you respond this time?
That’s why I choose to express rather than suppress.
I speak my feelings. Because communication is a form of release, and healing often begins the moment we give our emotions a voice.
It’s a skill—one that takes courage, vulnerability, and lots of practice.
But it’s always worth it.
If it’s between your mental health and anything else—choose your mental health.
Our thoughts shape our reality. When your mind is anxious, cluttered, or overwhelmed, everything else in life feels heavy.
Mental wellness isn’t optional—it’s essential.
And the truth is, damaging your mind comes with a price no one can afford.
There is no cure for a broken mind—not even with a million pesos or more.
No amount of money can bring back peace or clarity once they’ve been drowned by stress, trauma, or burnout.
That’s why I guard my mind like a diamond.I protect it by setting boundaries, allowing rest, making time for meditation, and learning to say no—without guilt, without apology.
Because every “no” to what drains you is a “yes” to what heals you.
I seek help when I need it, and I give myself permission to pause.
Because a healthy mind doesn’t mean you never struggle—
It means you know how to return to yourself, to quiet the noise, and to find your center again.
For me, that healing comes through nature, through living things, and through my quiet—yet sacred—connection to God.
I feel most spiritually alive at home, surrounded by light, life, and love.
I have two plants named Nyla and Mina, and every time I watch them grow—or even wilt—I’m reminded of both the fragility and resilience of life.
I find joy in the soft sounds of birds outside and our pets moving around the house. Their gentle presence feels like whispers from creation, reminding me that I’m part of something bigger.And then there’s sunlight and fresh air—pouring through our windows, brushing against my skin like quiet blessings. The more life I notice around me, the more I feel connected to the divine.I no longer attend church regularly. If I were to define my belief system, I’d say I practice agnostic theism—I believe in God and Christ, but I also honor and respect the truths found in all religions. I believe faith is most powerful when it’s lived sincerely.
My Sundays now look different. They’re slower, more intentional—filled with Bible reading, quiet reflection, and teaching my children values that keep us grounded in who we hope to become.
Spiritual healing has brought me to a place of self-discovery, authenticity, and deep openness to life’s diversity. It’s helped me release the need to explain my faith to others and focus instead on living it with love.
My favorite mantra remains:
“Be a good person, but don’t waste your time proving it.”
That’s the spiritual path I walk now—with more grace, more compassion, and less judgment.
You cannot heal in the same place—or with the same people—that hurt you. There’s no longer bitterness toward the people who hurt you, but you also recognize that they are no longer part of your world.
True healing often demands change: in your environment, your circle, and sometimes, even in who you are. As I healed, I changed.
At first, even the new me felt unfamiliar. But healing isn’t about going back to who you were—it’s about growing into who you were always meant to become.
And those who truly love you won’t cling to the past version of you—they’ll grow with you into your new world.
I love the world I have now. It’s a place where my children can dance and sing freely and know—without a doubt—that whatever happens, Mommy loves them unconditionally.
But if we lean into it—with honesty, intention, and faith—we’ll find not just restoration, but rebirth.
And that, to me, is the most beautiful kind of healing of all.
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