The Healing is Happening: Trusting the Process When Progress Feels Slow

I’ve really been struggling with what to write over the last few weeks because, honestly, I haven’t been feeling as great physically as I’d hoped. More than that, I haven’t felt the strong connection to my source like I did during those first few months after my epiphany.

Back then, I truly believed I’d be up and walking by now—that’s what I “sensed” during my awakening. That expectation has led to frustration and thoughts like, “Maybe I’m not meditating right,” or “Maybe I’m just not strong enough.”

But everything I’ve studied says healing isn’t bound to a timeline.

Since April, I’ve been reading non-stop—about the laws of attraction, about healing, about how to align with the universe—to understand the process and (if I’m honest) try to speed it along. The most recent book I’ve read, The Last Law of Attraction Book You’ll Ever Need to Read, was a turning point. It helped me see how I was getting in my own way—how my ego was setting traps I kept falling into.

Like I’ve said before, the universe is always sending us signs—we just have to be open enough to receive them.

One quote from that book really hit me:

“Picking at the scab of your desire keeps it from completing its way into your manifested reality. Losing your patience, letting doubt and uncertainty creep in, and quitting before the scab is ready to fall off is the reason things aren’t happening for you.”

If I hadn’t had my epiphany, I probably would’ve given up by now. But because I did, I trust that my source knows my heart and is working behind the scenes.

The hard part is, I often come out of meditation not feeling much different—physically or emotionally. That’s when the frustration kicks in. The anger. The doubt.

But healing comes from a place of gratitude, not lack. I know this. I feel this. I just have to live it. I have to let go, enjoy life as it unfolds, and trust that the healing is happening—even when I can’t see it.

Some days, when you’re struggling just to be, that’s a tough ask.

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Progress, Not Perfection

I think now’s a good time to reflect on how far I’ve come—both mentally and physically.

Part of the reason I want to share this is to remind myself that progress is real. That I’ve made major improvements using only meditation and mindfulness.

I’ve always considered myself an optimist. People used to ask me, “Do you ever stop smiling?” But the past few years have put that optimism to the test. My smile became harder and harder to maintain.

My health had been on a steep decline. I felt like a 43-year-old trapped in a 90-year-old body. I couldn’t trust it to do even the most basic things. I cried more days than not—from exhaustion, from depression, and from a deep sense of failure.

I kept smiling for others, but inside, I was barely hanging on.

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The Physical Shifts

Since April, there have been small but meaningful physical improvements:

• I can write legibly again. My handwriting, which was never beautiful, had become nearly illegible. Just holding a pen was a challenge—unless it was thick enough to grip.
• Reduced muscle spasticity. My legs used to jump constantly. It was involuntary, exhausting, and uncontrollable. That’s improved significantly.
• Greater flexibility. Before, my leg muscles were so tight that Jeremy said it felt like he was breaking them just trying to bend them—even with 6–9 muscle relaxers a day. Now, most days, there’s no issue.
• Bladder incontinence—gone. This was the most humiliating symptom I faced. Before March, I had so many accidents I started wearing adult diapers. It felt like losing one more piece of dignity. And now? No more diapers. I can go 10 hours without needing a bathroom. (Yes, I’ve timed it!)

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The Mental Breakthrough

Before April, I was miserable.

I cried constantly. I was on a high dose of antidepressants and still mourning the loss of control over my body. I thought about suicide more than I care to admit.

Let me be clear: I loved my life, my family, and my friends. I never wanted to die. But I couldn’t imagine living the rest of my life entirely dependent on others. I felt like if I ever lost control of everything else, I at least wanted to choose how, when, and who I was with when I died.

That was my rock bottom.

And help couldn’t have come at a better time.

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A New Light

Since April 26th, I haven’t had a single suicidal thought.

Not one.

And I’m completely off antidepressants.

Is every day perfect? Absolutely not. But I finally have hope—real, grounded hope—that things can and will get better.

My worst days now are like my good days used to be.

I try to remind myself that we’ve all been under extra strain these past few years. The pandemic, the isolation, the fear—it added layers to the weight I was already carrying. But even with that, I feel better now than I have in a long time.

People have even noticed. Multiple friends have told me they can hear the difference in my voice, in how I speak, how I move.

I’m holding onto that.

I’m choosing to trust that God, that the universe, that my source, has a plan for my healing.

Until then, I’ll keep meditating. I’ll keep trusting. I’ll keep letting go.

Because the healing is happening—even when it doesn’t feel like it.

From Guilt to Gratitude: Raising My Vibration for Healing