Healing Isn’t Always Cinematic—It’s Boring, Confusing, and Messy

So here is a fun fact nobody puts in the self-help books: healing from trauma isn’t like the movies. There’s no montage of you gradually getting better, set to an uplifting Enya song. There’s no wise mentor who shows up with perfectly timed life advice. And unfortunately, there’s no dramatic moment where you suddenly “overcome” everything and sprint triumphantly into the sunset all within 90-minutes.

Instead, it’s mostly you, standing at your front door, staring at the street like it’s made of actual fucking lava. Keep reading to understand.

April 4th started like any other day. I was out for a run, just getting into the early stages of marathon training, an easy 5 miles to get my Saturday going.

Alice was with me. Alice is my sweet 14 pound Maltese mix, and was my running buddy. This girl had worked her way up to 5-mile runs with me. Five miles. Imagine how many steps those tiny legs were taking!

Less than a quarter-mile in, I saw it. A car in my peripheral vision. Then time did that weird slow-motion thing that apparently only happens during actual emergencies and never when you’re trying to savor a really good taco.

I flung Alice out of the way as I went down. I screamed. The car hit me, threw me back, and I’m pretty sure I did some kind of inadvertent parkour move that would have been impressive if it weren’t, you know, being HIT BY A CAR! My elbow and shoulder caught me before my head became intimately acquainted with the pavement.

Alice was fine. I was … less fine. As the months passed, the visible stuff healed. Scrapes. Bruises. Road rash. The kind of injuries people can point to and say, “Wow, that must have hurt.”

The problem is, the stuff you can’t see did not get that memo. My skin recovered. My nervous system did not. 

Welcome to PTSD

Here is what they don’t tell you about trauma, it’s fucking weird. Like, really weird.

These days, the street outside my house might as well be the floor of that volcano level in Super Mario Brothers. My brain has decided that crossing a road = certain death, and no amount of logical reasoning can convince it otherwise. It’s like having a smoke detector that goes off every time you make toast, except the smoke detector is your entire nervous system and the toast is … existing in public.

Alice? Well, she doesn’t run with me anymore. I like to think it’s because she’s developed a sophisticated understanding of trauma responses and is giving me space to heal. But honestly, she probably just picked up on my new hobby of having panic attacks at the sight of Honda Civics when we walk and decided this whole “running” thing had gotten way less fun. I can’t say I blame her.

The Un-Cinematic Reality of Getting Better

Movies would have you believe that healing happens in neat little arcs. There’s the incident, then the dark period, then the turning point, then the triumphant return to normalcy. Roll credits, everyone feels good.

Reality is more like:

• Monday: Feel pretty okay, maybe this trauma thing is overrated
• Tuesday: Can’t leave the house because a garbage truck sounds too much like the car that hit you
• Wednesday: Successfully walk to the mailbox, feel like you’ve conquered Everest
• Thursday: Have a panic attack in the produce section at the grocery store  because someone’s cart hit mine
• Friday: Actually go for a short run, feel invincible
• Saturday: Back to staring at the street like it’s plotting your demise

It’s boring. It’s confusing. It’s messy as hell. And it’s completely normal.

Look, I’m not a therapist. I’m just a life coach who got hit by a car and is now afraid of roads, which is problematic when you live on planet Earth. But here’s what I’ve learned:

Step 1: Accept That You’re Going to Suck at This for a While

Stop trying to be the poster child for resilience. You’re not going to nail recovery on the first try, or the second, or possibly even the twentieth. That’s not failure, that is just how brains work when they’ve been through some shit.

Step 2: Start Stupidly Small

My first “victory” was walking to the end of my driveway. Not running. Not jogging. Walking. To my own driveway. And I was proud as hell of it, thank you very much.

Your stupid-small might be different. Maybe it’s driving around the block. Maybe it’s just thinking about the thing without immediately spiraling. Whatever it is, celebrate it like you just won an Olympic medal, because in your world, you basically did.

Step 3: Find Your New Normal

I did not quit running. I trained for the marathon anyway. And I ran it!

I just stopped pretending I could do it the same way, in the same places, with the same level of ease. I joined a running group so I was not alone. I drove to trails that did not have cars flying past me. And yes, sometimes I ran on a treadmill because my nervous system needed fewer variables that day.

Was it the version of running I loved most? No.

Was it still forward motion? Absolutely.

Healing does not mean retreating from your life. Sometimes it means rerouting so you can keep going.

Step 4: Get Professional Help (Seriously)

Therapy isn’t just for “crazy” people or people with “real” problems. It’s for anyone whose brain has decided that perfectly normal things are now existential threats. A good therapist is like having a translator for your own mind.

Step 5: Be Patient with the People Who Love You

Many of my friends don’t understand why I can’t just “get over it.” They’re not being assholes (mostly)—they’re just operating with brains that haven’t been rewired by trauma.

Give them time. Give yourself time. Give everyone time.

Here’s the thing about healing, it’s not about getting back to who you were before. That person got hit by a car. That person doesn’t exist anymore, and that’s actually okay.

You’re building something new now. Something that incorporates the knowledge that sometimes cars come out of nowhere and sometimes streets feel like lava and sometimes your dog judges your life choices.

It’s messier than the original model. It’s got some dents and weird patches. But it’s also got wisdom the old version never had, and a deep appreciation for the simple act of making it through another day without becoming a pancake.

That’s not nothing. That’s actually pretty remarkable.

Remember, YOU GOT THIS!

ONE ON ONE COACHING – Good Things Are Gonna Come  

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