Previous Chapter:
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Chapter 7: The Weight of Small Things
No one tells you how exhausting healing is.
People talk about “choosing yourself,” like it’s a one-time vow.
Like once you decide to get better, the pain packs up and leaves.
But they don’t talk about how often you have to remake that choice.
How every day asks for a new version of courage.
The first few steps?
They weren’t graceful. They weren’t beautiful.
They were messy.
One morning, I woke up and made my bed. That’s it.
It felt stupid - pointless, even.
Why tidy up something that would just be undone again?
But a voice inside me whispered, “Because you can.”
So I did.
But the very next day, I didn’t.
I stared at the bed. Thought about it.
Then turned away and crawled back under the covers.
And the guilt came in - sharper than I expected.
I thought, You’re failing again.
See? You’re not healing. You’re just pretending.
You’ll never really get out.
But somewhere in the haze, another voice spoke up.
Quieter. Kinder.
“Healing isn’t winning every day. It’s showing up anyway.”
So I started again.
Some days I’d drink water and feel proud.
Other days, I’d skip meals and hate myself for it.
Some days, I wrote things down.
Other days, I stared at the page and felt like a fraud.
There was no rhythm. No steady climb.
Just a constant negotiation between the part of me that wanted to live… and the part that still felt lost.
People don’t realize that healing isn’t about feeling better.
It’s about feeling everything - the anger, the sadness, the longing, the shame - and still not turning away from yourself.
It’s eating a meal when your appetite is gone.
It’s opening the window when the air feels too loud.
It’s answering one message. Then muting your phone for the rest of the day.
Tiny rebellions.
Against despair.
Against numbness.
Against the idea that you don’t deserve better.
Every time I chose myself - even in the smallest, most unimpressive ways - it felt like dragging a heavy stone uphill.
But I dragged it.
And I told myself, It counts.
Because maybe healing isn’t the mountain peak.
Maybe it’s the act of carrying the weight - and refusing to give up - day after day.
Even when your hands shake.
Even when no one sees.
____________________
Next Chapter:
Ashes and After : 6 The Quiet Rebellion
Previous Chapter: https://www.chatzozo.com/forum/threads/ashes-and-after-5-the-drop.61510/ -------------------------------------------------- The Quiet Rebellion It didn’t come like lightning. There was no epiphany. No breakdown. No dramatic turning point. Just a moment - So small, I could...
www.chatzozo.com
Chapter 7: The Weight of Small Things
No one tells you how exhausting healing is.
People talk about “choosing yourself,” like it’s a one-time vow.
Like once you decide to get better, the pain packs up and leaves.
But they don’t talk about how often you have to remake that choice.
How every day asks for a new version of courage.
The first few steps?
They weren’t graceful. They weren’t beautiful.
They were messy.
One morning, I woke up and made my bed. That’s it.
It felt stupid - pointless, even.
Why tidy up something that would just be undone again?
But a voice inside me whispered, “Because you can.”
So I did.
But the very next day, I didn’t.
I stared at the bed. Thought about it.
Then turned away and crawled back under the covers.
And the guilt came in - sharper than I expected.
I thought, You’re failing again.
See? You’re not healing. You’re just pretending.
You’ll never really get out.
But somewhere in the haze, another voice spoke up.
Quieter. Kinder.
“Healing isn’t winning every day. It’s showing up anyway.”
So I started again.
Some days I’d drink water and feel proud.
Other days, I’d skip meals and hate myself for it.
Some days, I wrote things down.
Other days, I stared at the page and felt like a fraud.
There was no rhythm. No steady climb.
Just a constant negotiation between the part of me that wanted to live… and the part that still felt lost.
People don’t realize that healing isn’t about feeling better.
It’s about feeling everything - the anger, the sadness, the longing, the shame - and still not turning away from yourself.
It’s eating a meal when your appetite is gone.
It’s opening the window when the air feels too loud.
It’s answering one message. Then muting your phone for the rest of the day.
Tiny rebellions.
Against despair.
Against numbness.
Against the idea that you don’t deserve better.
Every time I chose myself - even in the smallest, most unimpressive ways - it felt like dragging a heavy stone uphill.
But I dragged it.
And I told myself, It counts.
Because maybe healing isn’t the mountain peak.
Maybe it’s the act of carrying the weight - and refusing to give up - day after day.
Even when your hands shake.
Even when no one sees.
____________________
Next Chapter:
Ashes and After : 8 The Ghost Room
Previous Chapter: https://www.chatzozo.com/forum/threads/ashes-and-after-7-the-weight-of-small-things.61833/ ____________________________________ The Ghost Room It had been months since I’d gone there. That café—the one tucked behind the bookstore with the squeaky chairs and bad jazz playing...
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