02/09/2026
People said, “the island is healing.”
“Being in Mallorca will be so healing for you.”
And in the depths of despair, I clutched onto that. I waited for this island to work its magic on me.
Five months down the line, my wounds feel deeper than ever.
This island has constantly tested me. Isolation. Losing my 9-5 purpose. Communication hurdles. Unexpectedly moving around. Navigating new chapters of grief. The list goes on…
But perhaps my expectation of what I thought healing was, was never realistic?
Healing isn’t just the sunshine and sea swims (although sometimes that does help).
Healing is allowing yourself to feel the pain. To give it space. To remember that I’m allowed to feel the beauty of sweet moments and the hurt. To scream. To wail. To be angry. To laugh. To love. To enjoy.
To know that somehow, all of it can exist at once.
Healing is giving myself space to feel it all 🌀
To experience the waves of life.
To feel love is to feel grief.
To feel joy is to feel pain.
To feel anger is to feel peace.
Feeling is healing.
So, do we ever really heal?
I don’t think I want to heal “fully”, if healing means becoming untouched by the things I feel.
Because I want to feel.
I want to feel sooo deeply.
I want to experience the waves, not numb myself from them.
Because feeling brings me closer to myself.
And most importantly, it brings me closer to the woman I love the most.
My mama 🦋
One of many journal entries, after a month off socials, and boy it was needed ✨ a jumble of thoughts, maybe you agree, maybe you don’t, but grief looks different to everyone 🙏