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Healing Doesn’t Look Like the Movies

  • Writer: Joshua Ericson
    Joshua Ericson
  • Apr 13
  • 2 min read

There’s a version of healing that people like to sell you—the kind with neatly tied bows, perfect closure, and a triumphant soundtrack swelling in the background.

But real healing? It doesn't look like that. Not even close.


The Myth of the "Breakthrough Moment"

In the movies, healing is one powerful scene. A cathartic cry, a long-overdue apology, a sunrise montage that says, "everything is better now."


In real life, healing is crying on your couch at 2 AM because a random smell reminded you of something you thought you buried. It’s having a great day—then falling apart for no reason you can explain.


It’s the slow unraveling of old narratives and the quiet, uncomfortable rebuilding that comes after.


No glittering transformation. No dramatic before and after. No perfect moment where everything clicks and you're suddenly "healed."



What There Is Instead

What there is... is choice.


Over and over again.

  • Choosing to stay curious instead of defensive.

  • Choosing to pause before reacting.

  • Choosing to keep showing up to therapy even when it feels like nothing’s changing.

  • Choosing to forgive yourself for the things you did when you didn’t know better.


Healing isn’t a grand act. It’s a series of tiny, stubborn decisions.


To try again. To be honest. To show up.


Even when your brain screams, "What’s the point?"



The Slow Burn of Progress

The truth is, most of healing feels like nothing is happening. Until one day—you react a little differently than you did before.


You pause mid-spiral and breathe instead of berate. You hear the same trigger, but it doesn’t wreck you like it used to. You forgive yourself a little faster.


That’s healing. Not perfect. But progress.


Not effortless. But worth it.



You Don't Need a Montage. You Need Patience.

You don’t have to feel better overnight. You don’t need a finish line.


You just need the willingness to keep going. One moment. One breath. One decision at a time.


Healing is messy. It’s nonlinear. It’s human.


And you’re doing better than you think.

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