Learning to Trust the Process, Even When It Feels Like “Get Out”

My new therapist introduced EMDR, the eye movement technique that’s supposed to help your brain process old trauma. He told me to find a “safe place,” and all I could think about was how much it felt like a Get Out scene. I’m trying to heal, not be hypnotized by a white man with calm eye contact.

Still, I stayed. Because I’m learning that healing doesn’t always feel comfortable. Sometimes it’s awkward, confusing, or just plain weird, but I’ve come too far to keep quitting things that might actually help.

Meanwhile, real life hasn’t slowed down to match my healing pace. Booth rent is high, my braces bill is rude, and I’m still waiting to hear back from a few jobs I applied for weeks ago. I’m not spiraling like I used to, but I’d be lying if I said the silence doesn’t sting a little. The old me would’ve taken it personally. This version just sighs and keeps retwisting locs.

I’ve also been thinking about Deangelo, how talented he was and how much pain he carried anyway. It makes me wonder how his son feels now, trying to make sense of life with both parents gone. The only thing that brings me comfort is knowing his music still speaks for him.

I’ve always appreciated good sound, that’s one thing my mom got right. I grew up on songs that taught me mood, patience, and meaning before I had the words for any of it. Music still grounds me when nothing else does.

Lately I’ve just been focusing on what I can handle, work, studying for my NASM, keeping my peace where I can. It’s not all consistent, but it’s progress. Some days I get a lot done, other days I just don’t have it in me, and that’s okay.

I’ll get the license, the clients, the stability. It’s taking time, but I’m learning to trust that.