Maybe we have it all wrong. The idea of what healing means and looks like. The way it ought to feel.
Maybe for some, healing is like a home with decay so deep the only thing to be done is to light a match and watch it all burn. To feel the heat of the flames against your skin. To mourn what should have been and to grieve the way the vagrants broke the windows and let in all the rain and the animals and the rot and the unbearable stench. Continue reading Maybe We Never Heal Because We Don’t Understand What Healing Means