Thy name is healing, O my God, and remembrance of Thee is my remedy. Nearness to Thee is my hope, and love for Thee is my companion. Thy mercy to me is my healing and my succor both in this world and the world to come. Thou, verily, art the All-Bountiful, the All-Knowing, the All-wise.
– Baha’u’llah, The Hidden Words
In January, I was the recipient of a healing so incredibly deep that I will never, ever be the same.
I don’t know the exact moment. Despite my thinking that healing was a singular moment where the proverbial magic wand is waved over someone’s head and all the hurt and pain was taken away (which, in a way, is exactly how I feel), there was no specific moment for it. At least not one that I can pinpoint.
Considering it was junk I had been holding onto, clinging to, really, for almost half my life, the fact that I don’t remember the moment when I felt released or realized that it was gone amazes me.
It was simply there until it wasn’t. It wasn’t until I went to eat something (non-specific because I really don’t remember) or do something that was part of old habits, and I just sort of said to myself, “I don’t have to do this anymore.”
Lyrical Fool 