Healing: A Metaphor for the Deepest Work

Anxiety | Emotional Growth | Self-Discovery

Healing is an ocean. It is vast, unpredictable, and alive with movement.

When life rips through you—through loss, through heartbreak, through the quiet devastation of unmet dreams—it feels like a shipwreck. One moment, you’re standing on the deck, watching the horizon stretch endlessly before you, and in the next, you’re tossed into the waves, lungs burning, grasping for something solid.

At first, grief comes in relentless waves—high, merciless, crashing over you before you even have a chance to catch your breath. You are drowning in the wreckage of what was. Pieces of your old life float around you—a song, a photograph, a place you used to go. You hold on to them, not knowing whether they are anchors or lifelines.

And so, for a while, all you do is float.

Maybe it’s weeks. Maybe it’s months. The waves still come, but somewhere in the in-between, you find that you are breathing again. You start to notice that the space between each wave grows wider. You begin to sense their rhythm. You can anticipate them—the anniversaries, the birthdays, the firsts and the lasts. They still come, but they no longer own you.

And then, one day, you realize something profound:

You are not the wreckage. You are not the ship that sank.

You are the swimmer.

You are the one who survived.

You are the one who—scarred, shaken, reborn—found the shore again.

And that scar tissue? That place where you once thought you were broken? It is stronger than the original flesh ever was. The pain you thought might kill you became the place where you grew deeper, wider, more alive than ever before.

Healing isn’t about making the waves disappear. They will always come. They will always be part of you.

But now, you know the water.

Now, you trust yourself to swim.

You are healing. You are growing. You are becoming.

If you’re ready to move from merely surviving to truly thriving, let’s talk.