Chaos? I don't know her(We're best friends)

I once read this post that said something like, ‘Healing is learning to sit with your emotions.’ Which sounds beautiful in theory. Very soft, very peaceful, possibly a little too peaceful. So, I decided to give it a go. I was going to become the kind of person who meditated. Who journaled daily and sipped green tea while saying things like ‘it is what it is’ without flinching. I was going to be calm.

It lasted about four hours.

It started with me downloading one of those very calm apps that whispers at you about your breath. It said, ‘Close your eyes and notice the sensation of your body.’ I closed my eyes. I noticed my jumper smelled like old toast and my legs had gone numb in under two minutes.

Then my brain decided this was the perfect time to spiral. Remember that awkward message you sent in 2019? That was so embarrassing. Are you drinking enough water? Probably not. Should you have answered that email before deciding to become a fully Zen version of yourself? Absolutely.

At one point, the app said, ‘Gently return to your breath.’ I was too busy Googling whether you can actually mess up meditation. Spoiler: You can.

Let’s Talk About the Myth of Chill. There’s this unspoken idea that ‘healing’ has to look a certain way. Like you have to be constantly lit by fairy lights, surrounded by incense, scribbling beautiful things in a leather-bound notebook while you simultaneously light candles somehow. Or that you have to reach some stage of calm enlightenment before you can say you're doing okay. But that’s not how it works for most of us.

Sometimes healing is eating pasta at 3 a.m. out of a mug you decided was clean, and texting your friend ‘tell me I’m not insane.’ Sometimes it’s doing everything ‘wrong’ and still getting up the next day anyway. It’s not cute or aesthetic. It’s not a Pinterest board. It’s you. Still here.

After my brief failed attempt at inner peace, I did what any well-adjusted adult would do: I gave up. I made a strong cup of coffee and put on a playlist from 2014. I sat and stared at the wall for a while, and weirdly enough, I started to feel better. It turns out that trying to force yourself into calm when you’re not ready doesn’t work. Imagine that?

My healing doesn’t look like yoga poses and peace signs. It looks like laughing with someone who gets it, typing weird thoughts into my Notes app that I’ll never finish, and talking to myself like I’m a confused animal who needs a snack and a nap.

One of the biggest lies we’ve been told is that we have to be ‘doing better’ to be worthy of support. That we have to perform some version of strength to deserve to take up space. But you don’t need to be chill to be healing. You don’t need to be tidy or emotionally neutral or even kind to yourself every second. You just need to keep going. Keep showing up in even the smallest ways, by feeling what you feel, asking for help, or just surviving the day. That counts. Especially when it’s chaotic.

I might never be one of those calm people with essential oils and a perfect morning routine. But I’ve learned that healing doesn’t have to be a whole production. It can be scrappy and weird and still meaningful.

If you’ve made it this far into this ramble of a post, here’s your reminder: you’re allowed to be a work in progress. You’re allowed to roll your eyes at guided meditations and still be doing the work. You’re allowed to be both deeply messy and deeply healing.

And if you’re sitting in bed with a snack, scrolling through this post and wondering if you’re doing recovery ‘right’, you are. You’re here, and that’s enough.