What Happens After Healing? Reevaluating Myself After Therapy
Prior to starting therapy, I had wholeheartedly embraced the idealised version of "healing" propagated by social media. The image painted was a seemingly effortless path to liberation from childhood trauma, negative thought processes and any subsequent unhealthy coping mechanisms.
I remember my first therapist. I had chosen him because he was Italian, which sounded cool to announce to others, nothing more. After our first session, which took place face to face, predating the pandemic, I made my way home in tears, reminded that aestheticism didn’t translate well in real life, and that the things that tormented me weren’t easier to face because my therapist was quintessentially Italian, accent and all.
I tried therapy first before the pandemic, but it was my second attempt, a couple years later, during the thick of Covid 19 and lockdown, that really stuck. My mental health had gotten progressively worse, and even though as a spectator, you would assume that I had it all or at least had it together, in truth I had little to no grasp of myself and was dealing with Generalised Anxiety Disorder and depression. This time around, therapy confirmed that healing was far from easy and that therapy simply had excellent PR. What I assumed would be another Instagrammable bout of self-care was in fact intense and required intentionality.
Initially, therapy was emotionally and mentally taxing, but after several appointments with a kind, plain faced therapist who occasionally mentioned that I reminded him of his youngest daughter, I started to feel better.
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What happens after healing is true self-discovery. The sort that resembles finally acquiring the agency to decide what you want out of life, without influence.
I thought that going to therapy was the hardest thing ever, however, there came a time when I felt good, “healed” even – yet life remained difficult and unaligned. What I discovered post-therapy was that who I was and what I wanted prior no longer suited the person I’d become: the job I had worked tirelessly to obtain, the start-up I ran, the way I spent my time, my relationships with others, and most importantly, my relationship with myself. None of it fit anymore. I realised that most of the possessions, places and people that I once chased belonged to a version of myself that I no longer identified with.
When I initially broached the question “What happens after healing?” I entered a period of confusion that only eased when I stopped holding onto everything that belonged to my old self. Admittedly, whilst unlearning toxic behaviours and detaching from trauma is one thing, letting go of a life that, regardless of its origin, you worked hard to build, is another. I won’t mislead anyone by saying that I found letting go easy. I’d even go as far as saying that what happens after healing is more difficult than healing itself.
After almost a decade of education (half of these years intense and fuelled by anxiety), I had landed my dream job and built a comfortable life as a young, single twenty-something woman living and working in London. In the past, my life was marked by an unhealthy cycle of overwork and constant stress. My days would begin early, fuelled by the drive to prove my worth and succeed in my career. From the moment I stepped into the workplace, I would immerse myself in tasks, working tirelessly and neglecting my basic needs, like lunch breaks, to stay on top of everything. The lines between my home and work life were blurred, and I found myself living to work rather than working to live. The never-ending demands of my job left little room for personal time, relaxation, or enjoyment.
My anxiety levels were constantly elevated, driven by the fear of losing the fruits of my hard work, which added to the pressure I placed on myself. Despite accumulating achievements and possessions through my hard work, I rarely found the time or mental space to appreciate and savour these accomplishments. The pursuit of success had consumed me to the point where I felt detached from the things that should have brought me happiness and fulfilment.
When it came to letting go, my dream job in my dream industry was the first to go. I recall this moment acutely, after months of ignoring the feeling that my role at the time no longer aligned with who I had become (mainly, the unhealthy company culture that promoted overworking, selfishness and work-life imbalance), I accepted that it was time to leave. At first, I did as anyone accustomed to a certain level of financial comfort would do – I applied for other jobs. Yet, hundreds of applications and several interviews later (with no new position lined up and without financial security) I decided that the healed me deserved to exist in environments that were conducive to continued growth and with that realisation, I quit.
What followed was a flurry of cleansing comparable to a wardrobe declutter, throwing out items that no longer fit. The fear of being jobless had abated and while I was still applying for jobs and interviewing, I was happily living off my savings and figuring out what I wanted as this healed being. During this period, I found myself auditing each area of my life to assess whether it complimented who I’d become. Luckily, though several relationship dynamics changed throughout the course of enforcing newfound boundaries, I didn’t lose any important connections. Still, I changed as a friend, sister, daughter and possible romantic partner, and how I wanted my relationships to be changed alongside me.
What happens after healing is true self-discovery. The sort that resembles finally acquiring the agency to decide what you want out of life, without influence. Letting go of a life founded on poor mental health and unresolved emotional turmoil gave me the space to ascertain my wants and create a new life on much more stable and imperishable foundations. Once I turned my back on my then-dream job, I approached similar decisions with alacrity as opposed to fear – and before long I had said goodbye to most of what I’d spent years building. I redirected all the energy and dedication I once poured into work towards improving my well-being and finding true joy in life. It was a journey of self-discovery and growth, as I consciously worked on untangling my self-worth from my work ethic.
Embracing a slower pace of life allowed my nervous system to relax and fostered a sense of calm and balance. This new life that I created centred around my own needs and passions, I gradually enabled me to transform into a person no longer driven by anxiety but empowered to make decisions that prioritised my happiness.
In this newfound environment, I thrived. The healing process allowed me to shed the burden of anxiety-driven actions and embrace a more authentic version of myself. Over time, my life became a canvas for genuine happiness and contentment, where I flourished as someone who was no longer held back by their past struggles. Presently, I can write about that era of my life with ease, but when in the thick of it, all I could do was cry. Despite healing and letting go being for the better, I experienced loss. I had existed one way for twenty-something years, building a life that I thought I’d wanted, and then after intense therapy, I was someone else entirely. Even though I no longer desire to be the old me, I hold some fond memories of a young woman who tried to make the best despite feeling her worst. Even so, loss is not an end, but rather an opportunity to gain, and in this case, I lost an old way of living and gained myself in return.
Words: Hena Bryan
