There is a very beautiful song by Trevor Hall called, "You Can't Rush Your Healing" that my therapist showed me once. That simple statement is one I repeat as a mantra in my head on the tough days.

Healing is often imagined as a line graph with time. The greater distance of time it has been since the hurt, the more healed you'll be, right? Unfortunately it doesn't work that way. Healing can not be measured. It can't be put in a chart or graph. There is no survey to give you an estimated time frame the healing process will be. More often than not, there is no healed, just a journey that varies day to day. Initially, I found this discouraging. Sorting through the muck every single day felt like more effort than it was worth. When will I just get there already? Why is the process so much work?

With the pressures of daily life and society, I tried to rush my healing. I did the minimal work, overly faked the smiles, and said all the right things to those who worried. "The more you push it, the more it's pushing you back." That line couldn't be more accurate. Because after my brief unproductive healing process, I fell flat on my face again. Now what was I supposed to do?

I thought I was doing all of the right things by sucking it up through appointments, doing what I was advised to do, all while assuring my surroundings I was all right. I was doing everything right, except I was rushing my healing. So when I fell on my face that second time, my therapist showed me this song. For the first time, I understood. Healing has no timeline.

Allow yourself to properly mourn regardless how long it's been or how many times you've mourned before. Your body is never wrong. August can feel like the greatest month in the world and then September can suddenly feel like taking 15 steps back. Monday you can take on the world, and Tuesday you can't get out of bed. Pain comes in layers. You aren't going backwards when you feel it after streaks of good, you're just healing even further. Don't fight it off, don't get discouraged or angry. Don't feel the pressures of getting over it. Your body is trying to teach you more about yourself than you've ever known.

I know it can feel terrible but when you sort through the muck and feel that first day of sunshine I don't think there is anything more freeing. So allow yourself a bed day, you earned it. Blast Alanis Morissette and cry your eyes out. Punch pillows. Call into work sick when it hurts the most. Clear your agenda. Walk with no destination. Sit in silence. Break down on your yoga mat. And when the days are brighter than ever, dance around in the mirror in the morning. Run through the streets and smile at the strangers passing by. Laugh your loudest cackle. Splurge on something you've wanted for a while. Hug your friends tighter. Seek opportunities to give back all the joy you feel. Love fearlessly.

Neither feeling will last forever so take the time to feel them as they come. You can't rush your healing.