I’m Fine (Terms and Conditions Apply)

It crept in quietly. Not like a storm, not like a scream, just a slow, aching hum under the surface. The kind you only hear when the world around you goes still. I kept moving, kept smiling, kept collecting little gold stars for being “fine.” But somewhere between all the pretending and performing, something inside me began to fray.

I didn’t really know what healing meant until I desperately needed it. For the longest time, I thought I was okay. I would laugh the loudest in rooms full of people. I was always that “sorted” friend, the one with the advice, the answers, the smiles. But when the lights dimmed and the noise faded, I’d find myself lying awake, wondering why everything felt so loud inside me.

It’s strange how you can carry so much pain without even realising it. We tuck it away into corners of our mind, pretending we’ve moved on. We distract ourselves with work, people, Instagram stories, acting like that one moment, that one person, that one sentence didn’t really shake us. We bury our feelings under jokes, deadlines, and reels that make us laugh for half a second. And for a while, that works. Until it doesn’t. I hit that wall a few years ago.

I was surrounded by people, deadlines, expectations. I kept showing up for everyone, for everything, but never for myself. I didn’t know I was bleeding emotionally until I realised I hadn’t felt truly alive in months. Everything felt mechanical. Conversations felt rehearsed. Smiles felt photoshopped.

I was functioning.
But I wasn’t feeling.

The First Crack in the Noise

One evening, I sat on my bed, phone in hand, doom-scrolling as usual. My chest felt heavy for no real reason. I wasn’t crying. I wasn’t even thinking anything tragic. But I felt like I was drowning in air. That was the first time I asked myself:

“When was the last time you really sat with your feelings?”

Not ran from them. Not turned them into jokes. Not intellectualised them to sound wise. Just… sat with them. The answer scared me.

It Was Less Poetic Than I’d Hoped

Healing isn’t aesthetic. It’s messy. It’s not candles, sunsets, or Pinterest quotes. It’s crying mid-conversation for no reason. It’s realising you’ve been hurting for so long, your mind built an entire personality around your pain. It’s mourning versions of yourself that never got to be happy. It’s holding your inner child’s hand and whispering, “You didn’t deserve that.”

And sometimes, it’s sitting in silence with yourself, not because everything is okay, but because you’ve finally stopped pretending.

Ignore It Long Enough, It Starts Speaking For You

Because pain doesn’t stay where it hurt you. It spills. Into your relationships. Into your habits. Into the way you speak to yourself. If you don’t heal what broke you, you risk becoming someone who breaks others or worse, yourself.

Healing doesn’t promise a perfect life. But it gives you a chance at a real one. One where you’re not constantly surviving. One where you’re not over-explaining your worth. One where joy doesn’t feel like an accident.

There You Were

It gave me softness. Not weakness, softness. The kind that helps you choose love, even after betrayal. The kind that lets you apologise, even when your ego wants to win. The kind that lets you cry without calling yourself “too much.”

Healing made me see people for who they are, not just how they hurt me. It helped me stop waiting for closure from others, and start giving it to myself.

Most importantly, it gave me “me”, the version I had abandoned while pretending to be strong.

If I Forget Everything Else, Let Me Remember This

Healing is necessary. Not because pain is dramatic or trauma is trendy, but because you deserve peace. You deserve mornings that don’t begin with anxiety. You deserve to laugh without guilt. You deserve to look at your past without flinching. You deserve to be whole.

And healing, no matter how slow, no matter how imperfect, is the path to that wholeness.

If you’re reading this and it feels like I’m talking to you, I am. Please sit with yourself tonight. Not with shame. Not with judgment. Just sit. With kindness.

You’re not behind.
You’re not broken.
You’re just healing.

And that’s a beautiful place to be. And if today is the day you choose to begin again, even gently, even with a quiet heart, may the universe tuck a little light in your pocket. That’s more than enough.

Till the next yap,
With love,
Gowri