There’s this thing that happens when you’re going through something hard. You look around at everyone else just… living their lives. And you think, what the hell is wrong with me?

I remember this one morning. I’d driven to a coffee shop, parked, turned off the engine. And then I just sat there. Hands still on the steering wheel. For maybe fifteen minutes I watched people walk in and out through those glass doors, and it felt like there was this wall between me and them. Invisible but solid.

I didn’t go in.

I drove home. And god, the shame I felt about that. It’s such a small thing. Walking into a coffee shop. Ordering a drink. And I couldn’t do it.

For a long time I thought moments like that were proof. Proof that something was fundamentally wrong with me. That I was broken in some way other people just weren’t. That I was failing at the basic task of being a person who functions.

It took years for me to understand something I want to offer you now, in case you’re sitting in your own version of that parked car:

The struggling isn’t evidence you’re broken. It might actually be evidence you’re already healing.

When Healing Looks Like Everything Falling Apart

Here’s what nobody really tells you about healing. It doesn’t look like getting better in a neat line going upward. It doesn’t feel like steady progress. Most of the time, honestly? It feels like things are getting worse.

You start doing the work. Therapy, maybe. Journaling. Or just finally letting yourself feel stuff you’ve been shoving down for years. And suddenly you’re crying at cereal commercials. You’re exhausted by noon. Memories you thought you’d dealt with ten years ago are floating back up like they’ve been waiting.

And you think, this can’t be right. I’m supposed to be improving, not unraveling.

But unraveling is sometimes exactly what healing looks like.

Think about cleaning out a closet that’s been stuffed full for years. Before it can be organized, everything has to come out. It has to be spread across the floor. It has to look like chaos before it can look like anything else.

Your emotional life works the same way. It really does.

The Shame Spiral and How It Lies

Shame is sneaky. It doesn’t announce itself. It just whispers things that sound like facts.

You should be over this by now. Other people handle this fine. You’re too much. You’re not enough. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.

I used to believe all of it. Every single word.

There was this period in my late twenties when I was going through something difficult, and I kept apologizing to everyone. Sorry I’m not more fun right now. Sorry I keep bailing on plans. Sorry I’m like this.

A friend finally stopped me mid-apology and said something I still think about: “You don’t have to apologize for being in the middle of something.”

In the middle of something.

Not broken. Not failing. Just… in the middle.

That reframe changed something in me. It didn’t fix everything. But it loosened the grip of the shame just enough that I could breathe a little.

A Small Shift That Might Help

Next time you catch yourself thinking “what’s wrong with me,” try asking something different instead:

What if nothing is wrong with me? What if this is just hard?

You don’t have to believe it all the way. You don’t have to feel it deep in your bones. Just try it on. See how it fits.

Sometimes the most radical thing we can do is consider the possibility that we’re not broken. That we’re just human. And being human is genuinely, legitimately hard sometimes. It just is.

The Messy Middle Is Still the Path

I think we carry around this image of what healing is supposed to look like. Someone calm and serene. Meditating on a mountaintop at sunrise, finally at peace with everything.

And maybe that’s part of it, eventually. But most of healing happens in the messy middle. In the days when you take two steps forward and three steps back. In moments when you lose your temper or pull away from people or reach for old coping mechanisms you thought you’d grown past.

Those moments aren’t failures. They’re part of it.

Growth isn’t linear. It circles back. It spirals around. Sometimes you find yourself facing the same lesson you thought you’d already learned, and you think, really? This again?

Yes. This again. But here’s the thing: you’re not in the same place you were before. You’re meeting an old pattern with new eyes. And that’s different. That matters more than you know.

What If the Struggle Is the Evidence?

Here’s something I’ve come to believe, slowly and imperfectly:

The fact that you’re struggling might be the clearest sign that you’re growing.

Think about it for a second. If you weren’t changing, if you weren’t healing, if you weren’t becoming more aware of yourself and your patterns and what you actually need, you wouldn’t feel so much friction.

The discomfort you’re feeling? That’s the old version of you rubbing up against the new version trying to emerge.

It’s uncomfortable because something is shifting.

That doesn’t make it easy. I’m not going to pretend it does. But maybe it’s a little more bearable knowing the hard part isn’t a sign you’re doing it wrong. It might be a sign you’re doing it right.

Some Gentle Things to Remember

You don’t have to heal on anyone else’s timeline.

You don’t have to explain your process to people who don’t get it.

You’re allowed to need rest. You’re allowed to need help. You’re allowed to not be okay for a while.

Healing isn’t about becoming a different person. It’s about becoming more yourself. And that takes time. And gentleness. And a willingness to sit with the uncomfortable middle part without rushing through to the other side.

Something to Sit With

If it feels right, take a moment to ask yourself this:

What would change if I stopped treating my struggle as a problem to fix and started seeing it as a process I’m already in the middle of?

You don’t need an answer. Just let it sit with you.

You’re Already on the Path

I don’t know where you are right now. Maybe you’re in your own parked car moment. Maybe you’re having one of those days where everything feels too heavy. Maybe you’re just tired of feeling like you should be further along.

Wherever you are, I want you to know this: you’re not broken.

You’re in the middle of something.

And the middle is hard. But it’s also where all the real work happens. It’s where you become who you’re becoming.

So be gentle with yourself today. You’re doing more than you realize. You’re healing in ways you can’t always see.

And that’s not nothing.

That’s everything.