Why is healing so hard?

“Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth” - Gautama Buddha

Your healing journey begins the moment you stop waiting for an apology.

Move on, hold your ground, and march. Keep marching forward!
I often speak with women who share their painful stories and in why they stayed in a relationships as long as they did. It usually ends with, “I thought maybe he would change” or “I share children with him”. I too am guilty of the same reasons.

Post separating from our partners, we hang on to the hope of receiving some sort of an apology. Why does our brain and heart expect any sort of change? If they weren’t sorry for hurting us or refusing to change when we were together, what makes us think they’re capable of apologizing now and showing up the way we want them to? Don’t let that stop you from moving ahead and healing.

Let’s not be naive and expect an apology or some remorse. Entitlement is how most unhealed egotistical partners navigate life. Arrogance is their middle name, and grandiosity is their mask. The fact that you broke free is a testament to your strength and courage. Keep standing in your power.

Over the last few years, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting some truly powerful healers. Interestingly, most began their healing journeys after enduring abuse and pain. It’s true what they say—what you seek is seeking you. I was searching for ways to move forward and heal, and my path lit up with referrals that helped me confront the self-inflicted limiting beliefs I carried. These healers reminded me that if I could give birth to two strong girls, then I could handle anything.

Did you know that the pain of unmedicated labor is often rated between 35 and 50 on the McGill Pain Index (a widely used tool for assessing the intensity and characteristics of pain)? This makes it comparable to or even more intense than amputations or kidney stones (source: McGill University). And trust me, I know. I’ve passed two kidney stones without surgery—another reminder of the immense strength I hold within.

My body has held on to trauma for so long—from being unloved in my marriage, to being told I was useless, that my friends had far surpassed me in their careers, and that I was a lazy homemaker whose career wasn’t important because I made less money than them. Homemaker and lazy? That sentence alone never made sense. This came from someone who was completely ignorant of the immense effort it takes to raise children, work, and keep a home intact.

Lazy? Far from it. It was unintelligence on their part, not mine, to misunderstand the depth of what it takes to hold a family together. How would they know? They were so busy unethically courting someone to climb the ladder of success. The ultimate hack to happiness, was career success. A moment of pause while I barf.

Happiness is subjective, some are happy with the little they have and some aim for skies while forgetting who supported them while they were on their solo mission to achieve monetary joy.

I’ve always been a sensitive girl, so their mean words seeped deep within me and made me feel unworthy. Yet, when I stepped outside of my home, I was every woman’s hero—raising two back to back kids, always the energizer bunny, keeping them engaged and handling their day-to-day like a champ. But the story at home was different. I felt belittled, like my work as a mother was nothing more than “a matter of fact.”

Now, healing wasn’t just important—it was imperative to my success as a human being. I had spent too long letting my past dictate my present, too long letting the pain and hurt I’d experienced hold me back. But I realized that if I was ever going to step into the fullness of my purpose, if I was ever going to be the person I was meant to be, I had to heal. It was no longer optional; it was essential.

I’m still hijacked by certain triggers, and because of that, my healing journey continues. But for the most part, I find peace around those who have been through similar experiences and serve as guiding lights, teaching me to love myself and grow. I find comfort in those who trusted my story, saw my pain, and sat with me in silence as my nervous system healed, slowly but surely.

I recognize gaslighters, gossipers, jealous souls—those who simply can’t stand peace and are always looking for a way to disrupt it. These are the people who crave the tiniest little dopamine hit to their ego by poking at your most sensitive spots, the ones that know exactly where to strike to get a reaction from you.

They thrive on aggravating you, testing your boundaries, and waiting for you to lose your cool, all while never taking any accountability for their cheap, manipulative behavior. But here's the thing: I no longer play into their games. I see through it now. The energy they try to project onto you, that negativity, the attempts to pull you into their chaos—it’s all about them, not you.

They’re looking to make you feel small, to drag you down to their level, so they don’t feel so empty inside. I accept my flaws for occasionally falling for it, losing my cool and then swimming back up. Reminder to self, they are trying hard to drown you again.

My peace is too valuable, and I’ve worked too hard to reclaim it. The energy I once gave to these toxic forces now fuels my growth and healing. It gives me more power to stand tall and stand strong. I no longer let their cheap behavior dictate my worth or my energy. I learn and observe who to trust and who to stay away from.

While my story isn’t unique, it is MY STORY—and that makes all the difference. What sets me apart is the courage I’ve found to speak up against the fake life that was portrayed to "save someone’s image of a family or themselves." For years, I lived behind a mask, presenting an image that wasn’t real, all in the name of protecting the illusion. But the truth has a way of pushing through the cracks, and I chose to let it.

Every time I’ve spoken to another woman who narrates her own story, I am reminded of how grateful I am for the support I’ve had. Without it, I might have fallen into the ditch or off the cliff of despair. I might have stayed silent, buried under shame and guilt, feeling as though voicing my pain would somehow make me less worthy or less respectable.

But no—talking openly about the life I lived behind closed doors was the very thing that freed me. It was the release of years of unspoken hurt, and every time I share, it is a giant step toward healing.

I don’t regret a single moment of shedding that heavy armor, even if it was uncomfortable. I will never apologize for owning my story, no matter how messy it may be. The shame and guilt I once carried about speaking my truth have been replaced with a profound sense of liberation. And if my story can help someone else feel less alone, then it's all worth it.

If you feel lost, alone, drained and need guidance, I’m here to help and heal or simply guide you to the right people.

Disclaimer: This article is the original work of Deepti Prakash and is intended for educational and informational purposes only. All content is protected by copyright law. Unauthorized use, reproduction, or distribution of any part of this work without permission is strictly prohibited. To share or reference this material, please credit the author appropriately and obtain prior written consent.