What Healing Really Looks Like (Spoiler: I’m Not There….Yet)

Let’s be real—this isn’t some glossy “healing journey” blog post where I tell you how I found my inner peace and now do yoga at sunrise. I’m not there. Not even close. I’m in the thick of it—waiting for surgery, dealing with daily pain, riding a scooter some days, and doing whatever I can to not completely lose my mind. It’s messy. It’s exhausting. And it’s definitely not the vibe I had planned for this year.

Just yesterday, my hip slipped out of place—because of course it did. Add that to the growing list: sciatica, face and jaw pain that honestly feels like it belongs in a horror movie, vertigo that makes the room spin at random, and the looming reality of a full knee replacement. It’s like a never-ending game of “which body part will betray me today?”

Some days are better than others.

Some days I move.

Some days I cry.

Some days I just survive.

The face pain has been next level lately—enough to send me for more blood work to try and rule out a few things. I don’t know what we’re chasing anymore—answers, relief, a diagnosis that makes it all make sense. But I keep showing up, because I don’t know what else to do.

In the middle of all this, I’ve been doing pool physio with a group of 80-year-olds who have better rhythm, stamina, and honestly probably better knees than I do. (Love them—but wow. )

And then there’s the scooter. I never thought I’d be using one in my 40s, but here we are. It’s helped me get outside, get moving again—but it also comes with a whole lot of side-eyes. Some people stare. Some pretend not to see me at all. There’s this weird in-between where you’re either too young to be “disabled” or too invisible to be acknowledged. But I use it anyway. Because I have to choose my sanity and independence over someone else’s opinion. Every. Single. Time.

Right now, I’m doing everything I can to stay above water mentally. From face physio and acupuncture to journaling, red light therapy, chair yoga, crying in the car, laughing at weird TikToks, and praying for one good day—I’m throwing the whole toolbox at this season.

But let’s be clear: I’m not healing yet.

I’m waiting to heal.

I’m working to heal.

I’m surviving the part that no one claps for—the in-between.

And through it all, I’ve been forced to face the trauma I’ve carried for years. I’ve had to start letting go of guilt—the guilt of slowing down, of not being able to show up for people the way I used to, the guilt of needing help. And most of all, I’ve had to start grieving.

Grieving the version of me I used to be.

The one who never stopped.

The one who could push through.

The one who didn’t need a scooter or a physio pool or a break.

I didn’t choose this—but I’m choosing to face it.

Messy, honest, and painfully human.

So no, I’m not healed. Not yet.

But I’m still here.

Still fighting.

Still doing my best in a body that sometimes feels like it’s falling apart—but a spirit that refuses to give up.

If you’re in your own messy chapter, I hope this post reminds you that you’re not alone.

This is what healing really looks like.

And even if you’re not there yet, you’re still allowed to keep going.

With love (and just enough sass to keep things interesting),

Lisa-Marie