Healing is like an onion…

Something stinks. I don’t know what it is, but every time I walk into the mudroom of my house, there’s this, this…stench that wafts from…somewhere. It’s gross. It’s disgusting. And it’s driving me crazy.

What the heck is that smell?

I have two boys and my first thought was to check the powder room. Let’s just say they don’t have the best “aim.” And does it smell in there? Oh yeah. But it’s not “the” smell.

I move to the closet. There’s a bag of old birdseed up there. Could that be the stench? I take a whiff and then another one. I’m unsure. It doesn’t smell good, so I chuck it out for good measure.

Finally, after about a week of sniffing through every coat, purse and boot in our mudroom, I realize the stench is not coming from the mudroom at all, but from a deep drawer where I keep my onions.

Onions.

*****

When I was really sick with depression and anxiety, it was like there was this deep drawer of stinkin’ pain inside me. It permeated my entire being and took me on a wild goose-chase to get rid of it.

Because when you’re mentally unwell, you just want your pain to be gone.

Forever.

And I used to think healing worked that way—that I would arrive at a permanent destination: I was sick. And then I was better. The end.

But I’ve learned that mental and emotional healing doesn’t really work that way. In my own experience, healing was not linear.

Healing was like an onion.

Like an onion, there were layers to my healing. I’d go through a bout of depression/anxiety—and it would totally stink and make me cry!—but during that round of pain, I’d sometimes learn something new about myself or God, or I’d get a new tool in my mental toolbox… and slowly, imperceptibly a layer of the pain would be stripped off.

I’d always hope that last round was the LAST round. But sure enough, a while later, the depression or anxiety would return. And I’d think: Did I not heal at all?

But I had. And it was like every new episode of depression or anxiety was an opportunity to practice what I had learned in the previous episode. I’d practice my new truths or skills and I’d notice that I didn’t stay as long in the depression or anxiety, and I didn’t go down as deep.

Every new episode of depression or anxiety was an opportunity to practice what I had learned in the previous episode.

For me, healing did not happen in one large swoop. It was by learning things little by little, gaining strength bit by bit, shedding lies and pain layer by layer, and slowly coming to a place of self-acceptance.

So, am I completely healed? A recovered alcoholic always has the opportunity to pick up a drink, and a recovered depressed/anxious person always has the opportunity to pick up those old “scripts” in their head.

At the time of writing, I’d prefer to say I’m in “remission.” And when you’re in remission, you still need to take preventative measures so that you stay healthy. You take your meds. You exercise your body and your mind. You invest in self-care and acceptance.

But if you ever find yourself “back” in an old rut,* take heart. It’s another layer of your story and another opportunity to learn something new or practice something old.

It stinks. But you’ve got this.

*For more in-depth info into the “depressed brain,” check out the A Day in the Life of a Depressed Person.