“when growth feels compulsory”

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Healing culture in California feels like everyone is in the middle of figuring something out.

Coffee shop conversations get personal.
Hikes turn into nervous system check-ins.
New people I meet have a podcast, a process, someone they swear by.

Almost everyone here is doing some kind of self-work.

It’s unfamiliar.
I’m trying to soak everything in.

There’s always a suggestion.

Have you tried ayahuasca?
Are you in EMDR?
You should read this.
You need to microdose.
Have you tried soaking your feet in the ocean?
Get a cat, they help regulate.

Journal more.
Journal less.

Forgive.
Rage.
Release.

Healing starts to feel like a performance review.

I begin tracking myself like a project.

Am I integrating fast enough?
Am I self-aware enough?
Am I doing this right?

Consciousness starts to feel like homework.

I try using the language.

Nervous system.
Attachment.
Boundaries.
IFS.

I can say the words.

But inside, it’s still foreign.

Most days I want to sit on the floor and not do a thing.

And I feel behind.

Not because I’m not trying,
but because trying never seems finished.

Not trying feels irresponsible.
Like regression.
Like I’m wasting the gift of surviving.

Maybe healing isn’t another summit.

Maybe it’s sitting down halfway up the mountain
and deciding the view is enough for today.

Everyone is healing here.

I am too.

Just slower.
Quieter.
At my own pace.

And that has to count.