Healing: Turning My Pain into Power

Healing: Turning My Pain into Power

I am participating in #BLOGCHATTERA2Z YEAR 2025 &  Blogging from A to Z Challenge!  From loss to light to learning to live again. Healing isn’t a chapter in my life. It’s the whole dayum book. And some pages are tear-stained, others are burned at the edges, but here I am—still writing. I’ve known pain. The kind that doesn’t just break you but changes your DNA. I lost my husband when I was young. I lost my beautiful son. He was 36. And somewhere in between, I lost parts of myself to clinical depression- a quiet, persistent ache that set up camp in my mind and refuses to leave even after 40 years. Read on how Healing: Turning My Pain into Power.

It’s not exactly the stuff of inspirational Instagram quotes.

But here’s the truth:

“Pain did not have the final say. I did.”

Healing isn’t pretty, but it’s possible!

Some people talk about healing like it’s a spa weekend. For me, it was more like crawling on glass- slow, painful, and full of setbacks. But every time I chose to try again– to get out of bed, to write, laugh, to hope—I was laying the bricks of my recovery.

It started small. I permitted myself to cry without apologising( in my room only). I started saying no to people who drained me. I stopped chasing perfection. I sat with my grief and listened to it, instead of stuffing it into the back of my mental cupboard. It spoke of love. And longing. And eventually… it quieted.

The power of tiny rituals

Sometimes, healing looked like lighting a candle and whispering my son’s name. Other times, it looked like walking barefoot on the grass to remember I was still alive. I journaled. I wrote. I burnt the bad drafts and kept the good ones. I started blogging—my quiet rebellion against despair.

I stitched myself back together through words. Each post was a thread. Each reader who said, “Me too,” was a knot tying me to hope.

What helped me heal (and still does)

• Writing. The blank page never judged me. It let me scream silently.
• Nature. Trees don’t rush. They shed what they must. I try to do the same.
• Humour. If I didn’t laugh, I’d cry harder. I learned to find light in odd places- when I told Grief to take a number because menopause was yelled louder.
• Saying ‘No’. Especially to people who only show up for the happy parts of your story.
• Saying ‘Yes’. To therapy. To long walks. To yoga. To fresh starts. To friendships that feel like soup on a cold day.

Turning pain into power

Power doesn’t mean pretending everything’s okay. It means knowing you’ve been through hell and still choosing to be kind. To dream. To love. It’s not armour- it’s courage.

I’ve built a life that honours my pain, not hides it. A life with room for joy and sorrow, side by side. I still have days where the grief knocks the wind out of me. But I also have days filled with sunshine and my grandsons’ chatter,  remind me: I am still here. I am still becoming.

If you’re healing too…

Be gentle. Be patient. Healing isn’t a destination-it’s a dance. Some days you’ll move forward. Some days, you’ll sway in place. That’s okay. Just don’t stop dancing.

Let your scars glow like gold. They are not signs of what broke you, but what you survived.

And if you’re still finding your strength? Borrow some of mine. You can return it when you’re ready.

This is my journey through the lessons that life, love, loss, and laughter have taught me. Read about my life at She is-Courage.

The A2Z List

1. Awakening-Ignite your Spark
2. Bloom Bravely-Choose Courage & Self-love
3. Clear Mental Clutter for Growth
4. Rise with Determination
5. 8 Steps to Embracing Your True Essence
6. Finding Work-life Balance
7. Gratitude: Fuelling Growth with Thankfulness