The Permission to Heal Slowly

My son practicing gentle healing with his plushies by sleeping as much as he wants.

And can we take a moment to appreciate our shark, Maxie’s pose? It’s like he’s posing for GQ - Shark Edition. I didn’t pose him. I found him like this that’s why I took the photo.

Healing is not another deadline.

We are so used to measuring progress that we try to measure healing, too.

How many days has it been?

Shouldn’t I feel better by now?

Why am I still tired?

Why can’t I do what I used to do?

At some point, even healing becomes another task we think we are failing to complete on time.

But perhaps healing was never meant to work that way.

I have a habit of turning everything into a project.

There is always something to finish, something to improve, something I should already be better at.

Apparently, I do this with healing, too.

I noticed it recently because I kept thinking about when I would be back to normal. When would I have my old energy again? When would I stop needing so much rest? When could I go through a whole day without having to negotiate with my own body?

I was treating healing like another item on my list.

And I was getting annoyed because it was taking too long.

The funny thing is, I’m not even sure what too long means.

Too long according to whom?

We have different bodies, different demands, different lifestyles, different environments.

One’s timeline is not the same as mine.

There are mornings when I wake up and my body very clearly wants more sleep. But there is a clock beside me saying that I have slept enough.

So I get up.

Or at least, I used to.

Lately, I have been learning to listen to the other answer.

Sometimes I go back to sleep.

Sometimes I lie there doing absolutely nothing.

Sometimes I spend far longer than necessary under blankets and pillows and, apparently, an unreasonable population of plushies, like my son.

And I am beginning to think that this counts, too.

Gentle healing, for me, has become less about doing the right things to heal and more about giving myself permission to need what I need for as long as I need it.

Not only physically.

There are days when my mind feels tired before my body does. Days when I don’t want another conversation, another decision, another thing asking something from me.

So I retreat.

I make things. I play music. I wander around a mall. I write. I sleep. I sit quietly with people I love.

And sometimes I do nothing particularly useful at all.

That last one has probably been the hardest.

I am very good at giving rest a purpose.

I’ll rest now so I can work later.

That still makes rest part of the productivity machine.

I’m trying to learn another kind.

I’ll rest because I’m tired.

Full stop.

No promise that I will compensate for it later.

Maybe that is what I have been missing.

Healing does not have to hurry simply because I am impatient.

My body does not know about my schedule.

My heart certainly does not care about my deadlines.

And perhaps neither of them needs another person standing over them asking, Are we there yet?

So I am trying something gentler.

I am letting healing take the time it takes.

And if today requires another hour under the blankets?

The clock will survive.

Welcome to Issue 04: Gentle Healing

We will do things differently this time. Stay close.

—-

With elegance and quiet fire,
Lady E

Founder, Glow by Lady E
An editorial space for stories, art, and intentional living

The Pleasure of Leaving It Behind

I really liked this dress. Enough that I stood there looking at it for far longer than necessary, having that familiar little debate with myself. It was black. Simple. Very me. I could already imagine how I would wear it. There was only one problem. The fabric was thick. And perhaps in another climate, or another version of my life, that wouldn’t matter very much. But I live in the Philippines. We’re going through El Niño. Heat and I are already not particularly good friends, and my histamine sensitivity has made me even less willing to wear something that might leave me uncomfortable simply because it looks good. Still, I stood there. Because sometimes walking away from something we like is strangely difficult, even when we already know it isn’t right for us. We start negotiating. Maybe I’ll only wear it indoors. Maybe the fabric isn’t that thick. Maybe I’ll regret leaving it behind. Then I realized I was trying awfully hard to convince myself to buy something my body had alrea...

Used to the Last Drop: The Ones I’d Already Told You About

There’s something particularly satisfying about finishing a product you’ve already written about. Not testing it. Not forming first impressions. Not wondering whether I’ll still like it three weeks from now. Finished. My Molang Honey sheet masks and this body scrub both made it all the way to the end. (Finally for the Molang sheet masks, right?) I’ve reviewed both before, so I won’t review them all over again here. But perhaps using something until there is nothing left to use is its own kind of review. Beauty products come through my bathroom rather frequently. Some are lovely for a week. Some get pushed to the back of a shelf. Some simply stop working for me. And then there are the ones that quietly disappear because I kept reaching for them. Maybe an empty container is the shortest review of all. I liked it enough to finish it. If you want to read my thought about these products, just type them on my search bar. —- With elegance and quiet fire, Lady E Founder, Glow by Lady E...

Soul Notes: For Your Journal Tonight

Come sit with me for a while. I have my journal open, and tonight I’ve been thinking about something I suspect I do more often than I realize. I turn healing into another thing I need to accomplish. I want to know when I’ll be over something. When I’ll stop thinking about it. When something that hurt will finally stop hurting. When I’ll feel like myself again. And somewhere along the way, healing quietly becomes another deadline. Another invisible date on a calendar. Another thing I can somehow be late for. But maybe healing doesn’t work particularly well under project management. Maybe there are things I will understand quickly and things I’ll have to revisit again and again. Maybe I’ll feel completely fine one day and unexpectedly tender the next. That doesn’t mean I’ve gone backwards. It means I’m still moving through it. I remember one day, many years ago, when I had fibromyalgia. I lived in constant pain. I just couldn’t get a good day. And then one day, in the office...

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