Healing, heartbreak, and rebuilding from the inside out.
Avoidance comes in many forms. For some, it’s dodging conflict or skipping hard conversations. For me, it was much deeper. I had a way of steering clear of the things that required real vulnerability—opening up, trusting others, showing the raw parts of myself. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to. I did—so badly. But when trust has been broken repeatedly, letting people in feels less like an invitation and more like a risk.
I’ve been hurt. Betrayed. Neglected. Life has hardened me in ways I didn’t expect. And I’m not claiming innocence either—I’ve hurt people too. I’ve made mistakes, said the wrong things, stayed too long, left too late. The weight of those downfalls can be just as heavy.
The past year and a half has been the most transformative period of my life. At 31, I made the decision to start facing it all: the pain, the patterns, the trauma, the shame. No more burying, no more avoiding. It hasn’t been easy—it still isn’t. But I’m slowly learning that healing doesn’t always look like peace and quiet. Sometimes it looks like sitting in discomfort, crying over things I thought I’d moved past, or forgiving myself for choices I made when I didn’t know better.
My first real mountain was my first marriage.
It took me six years to even begin healing from a ten-year situation that was never what I thought it was—a union built on lies, manipulation, and control. For the longest time, I blamed myself for not seeing it sooner. I questioned my worth, my intuition, my sanity. It wasn’t just a breakup—it was an unravelling of everything I believed to be true. The hardest part wasn’t losing the person—it was realising how much of myself I lost in the process.
But healing can sometimes make no sense (at first). And the truth is, we don’t wake up one day and suddenly feel whole. It’s slow. It’s layered. Some days I feel strong; other days, I fall apart. But both are part of the journey.
I’m sharing this not because I have all the answers, but because I know I’m not the only one. If you’ve ever felt like your pain disqualified you from peace, or your past made you unworthy of something better—know this: you’re not alone. And you are not beyond healing.
This is just the beginning of my story—a story I once felt too ashamed to share, but now see as part of my becoming.
To anyone climbing their own mountain right now: KEEP GOING. It’s okay to rest, to feel, to start over as many times as you need to. There is no timeline for healing—only your own.
Mental Matters is a resource and information platform. We do not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. While the information on our website is for general awareness and support, it should not replace professional advice. For any mental health concerns, please consult a qualified healthcare or mental health professional.
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