I used to think 'healing' meant the pain went away completely, but now I see it's more about making room for the pain, letting it sit beside the joy without overshadowing it. I thought I'd arrive at a destination called 'healed,' but instead I'm learning to pack lighter for the journey. The scars are just extra pockets now, holding stories, not anchors. I thought forgiveness was a one-time event, like signing a document and being done with it. Turns out, it's more like tending a garden, constantly weeding out the resentment that tries to take root again. I used to think remission meant I’d get my old life back, but that person is gone. Now remission is just learning to dance with a slightly different partner, one who still whispers about the old steps but knows some new ones too. I used to chase "closure" like a finish line, some solid thing I could grasp. Now it feels more like the tide, always receding, always returning, shaping the shore a little differently each time. They told me acceptance was the goal. But acceptance isn't some peaceful plateau. It's more like white-water rafting – sometimes exhilarating, sometimes terrifying, but always moving downstream whether I like it or not.