10/02/2026
Extract from Journal Entry — 10 August 2022
“Relax. Your wing is broken. Let it heal first.”
That’s what I said to the bird I picked up on my walk.
And maybe I was saying it to myself.
This is for you.
The one with the broken wing.
Healing is slow.
And ugly.
And nothing like the quotes people post.
It’s not motivation.
It’s not pretty smiles.
It’s surviving the day without falling apart in public.
It’s talking to yourself just to get through the hours.
Telling yourself not today. Just today.
It’s standing in front of the mirror pulling faces because silence feels too loud.
It’s asking questions you don’t want answers to.
It’s doubting everything — especially yourself.
It’s crying for no reason.
Or maybe for every reason at once.
Healing is breaking promises to yourself and hating yourself for it.
Then learning, slowly, to forgive yourself anyway.
It’s realizing the parts you hide, the parts you try to kill,
are the same parts that make you you.
It’s waking up with hope even when nothing has changed.
Even when your situation still hurts.
Believing something good is waiting, somewhere you didn’t plan to go.
We don’t heal the same.
There is no formula.
Only your rhythm.
Only your way.
And when your wing finally works again,
when you can stretch it without pain,
don’t stay on the ground.
Fly.
And remember the version of you that thought healing would never come.