ome days, “healing” feels like a scam. Everyone says it’s a straight road forward, a glow-up after pain, a peaceful sunrise after the storm. But here’s the truth: sometimes I’m not healing. I’m just holding on. White-knuckling my way through the day until I can finally breathe again. And you know what? That still counts as strength.
September is Suicide Prevention Month, and everyone’s tossing around words like “recovery journey” and “emotional resilience” like they’re neat little packages you can unwrap. But the truth is messier. Healing isn’t always inspiring. Sometimes it’s ugly, sometimes it’s quiet, and sometimes it’s just surviving until tomorrow.
When “I’m Fine” Is a Lie
I’ve told people, “I’m okay, I’m healing.” But inside? My heart felt like it was stitched together with fishing wire, barely holding. Healing isn’t this polished Instagram story. It’s crying on the bathroom floor, pulling yourself out of bed even though your chest feels like it’s carrying bricks. It’s not pretty — it’s gritty.
This isn’t about giving up. This is about admitting: I’m not there yet. And that’s okay. Because holding on — even by a thread — is still choosing life.
Survival Is Resilience
Let’s talk about emotional resilience for a second. People think resilience means bouncing back quickly, snapping back like a rubber band. But real resilience? Sometimes it’s dragging yourself through the mud and still showing up the next day. It’s the patience to live through the pain until you’re strong enough to climb out of it.
If you’re reading this and thinking, “I’m not healing either. I’m just holding on,” — I want you to know you’re not alone. You’re still on a recovery journey, even if right now the only step you’re taking is staying alive. That’s not failure. That’s survival.
The Lie About Closure
People love to tell you: “You just need closure.” But closure isn’t always possible. Sometimes the people who broke you won’t apologize. Sometimes life won’t give you a neat ending. And sometimes the only closure you’ll get is deciding to keep going without it.
You don’t owe the world perfection. You don’t owe anyone a polished story of “healed and thriving.” You owe yourself the grace to exist exactly where you are.
To the Ones Holding On
So if tonight you’re scrolling, looking for a sign — here it is: holding on is enough. Even if your healing doesn’t look like progress to anyone else. Even if you’re tired of being tired. Even if the only thing you did today was survive it.
This month, when people talk about suicide prevention support, I want you to remember that it’s not just about big victories. It’s about the tiny, defiant act of saying: Not today. I’ll hold on one more day.
And one day, maybe not soon, maybe not clean — you’ll look back and realize holding on was healing all along.
