Becoming the Person I Needed When I Was Numbing

You know those mornings when the world feels soft again? The kind where you wake up and the air feels lighter — not because everything’s perfect, but because you finally stopped running from yourself.

That’s where I am right now. Sitting here with my tea, music playing low in the background, and this quiet sense of peace that I used to think only belonged to other people. For a long time, I couldn’t even picture myself here — grounded, calm, whole. I was always trying to escape something. My own thoughts, my own past, my own reflection.

And now, looking back, I realize that the person I’ve been becoming — this version of me that finally breathes — is the person I needed all those years ago when I was just trying to survive.

The Art of Numbing

When I was in that season of numbing, I didn’t even call it that. I called it “just getting through.” I’d say things like, “I just need to take the edge off,” or “I deserve a break tonight,” even when every “break” left me more disconnected from myself.

Maybe you know that feeling too — the one where you tell yourself you’re fine, but deep down you know you’re disappearing a little more each day.

For me, numbing looked like distraction. Scrolling for hours. Saying yes when I wanted to say no. Pouring another drink because I couldn’t sit in silence. Pretending I was okay because it was easier than explaining why I wasn’t.

But here’s the truth: you can’t selectively numb pain. When you numb the bad, you numb the good too. And before you know it, you’re just… flat. Detached. Watching your own life play out like it belongs to someone else.

The Turning Point

I didn’t have some big dramatic rock bottom. Mine was quieter — like a whisper that turned into a scream over time.

One morning, I looked in the mirror and barely recognized myself. My eyes were dull. My spirit was tired. And I remember thinking, “I can’t keep disappearing like this.”

That’s the moment that changed everything.

Not because I instantly knew how to fix it, but because I finally admitted I wanted to.

Healing doesn’t start with perfection. It starts with honesty. It starts the moment you say, “I’m not okay, but I want to be.”

Meeting the Old Me With Compassion

As I started peeling back the layers — sitting with the emotions I’d spent years running from — I realized something that broke me open in the best way:

The version of me who was numbing wasn’t weak. She was protecting me the only way she knew how.

She wasn’t trying to destroy me; she was trying to survive me.

So instead of shaming her, I started thanking her.

Because she’s the one who carried me through nights I didn’t think I’d make it. She’s the one who smiled for others when she couldn’t feel joy herself. She’s the one who kept showing up, even if it was messy.

And the more I showed her grace, the more I softened into healing.

When Healing Turns Into Purpose

Something beautiful happens when you start showing up for yourself — it spills over.

Your healing doesn’t just stay with you. It starts to touch everyone around you.

At first, I didn’t even notice it happening. I just started talking about things more openly — my sobriety, my loneliness, the nights I cried and then laughed five minutes later because emotions are messy like that.

And people started reaching out.
“I thought I was the only one who felt that way.”
“Your story gave me hope.”
“Thank you for saying that out loud.”

That’s when it hit me: healing quietly turns into purpose when you let it.

You start realizing that all those moments you thought broke you were actually preparing you to hold space for others. The pain that once made you feel unworthy becomes the bridge that connects you to someone else’s strength.

Showing Up for Others (and Yourself)

There’s this sweet balance that comes with healing — learning how to give without losing yourself again.

When I was numbing, I was constantly giving from emptiness. I was the friend who checked in with everyone but couldn’t even check in with herself. The one who said, “I’m fine,” when I was unraveling inside.

Now, I give differently. I show up from fullness, not obligation. From truth, not performance.

And I’ve learned that showing up for others doesn’t mean saving them. It means reminding them they’re not alone while staying anchored in your own peace.

Sometimes that looks like sharing your story. Sometimes it’s just sitting in silence with someone who’s still in the thick of it. Sometimes it’s a simple “me too” that helps someone breathe a little easier.

Healing doesn’t make you immune to pain — it just makes you more gentle with it.

Becoming Who I Needed

When I think about the version of me who was numbing, I picture her sitting on the floor late at night, lost in her thoughts, searching for something she couldn’t name.

And I wish I could tell her what I know now:
That she’s not broken.
That her sensitivity is her strength.
That there’s beauty in rebuilding slowly.
That one day, she’ll sit in the same body that once felt unbearable — and feel peace.

Becoming the person I needed wasn’t about becoming perfect. It was about becoming present.

It’s about being the kind of person who listens deeply, loves without control, and forgives herself a hundred times if that’s what it takes.

The Ripple Effect of Becoming

The wildest thing about healing is that it doesn’t end with you.

You start attracting people who are also choosing themselves — even if they don’t realize it yet. You start having conversations that are rooted in truth, not small talk. You start noticing how your peace calms the room.

And it’s not because you’ve “figured it all out.” It’s because you’ve learned to be honest in your becoming.

People feel that.
They feel your authenticity.
They feel your softness.
They feel your resilience.

That’s how healing turns into purpose — quietly, steadily, through every moment you decide to show up as the person you once prayed for.

Holding Space for the Journey Ahead

If you’re still in that in-between space — not where you were, but not where you want to be yet — please know that’s sacred ground too.

Healing isn’t linear. Some days you’ll feel like you’ve got it all together, and other days you’ll feel like you’re back at square one. That’s okay. Every version of you deserves love, not just the healed one.

Be patient with your process.
Be proud of your progress.
And keep showing up.

Because one day, you’ll look around and realize you became the safe place you were always searching for.

A Gentle Reminder

You don’t have to save the world to live your purpose. Sometimes, your purpose is simply to walk with integrity, love without conditions, and speak truth into places where silence used to live.

That’s enough.
You’re enough.

Keep becoming. Keep healing. Keep showing up — for yourself, for the ones watching quietly from the sidelines, and for the version of you who once didn’t know peace like this could exist.

Because she’s still inside you.
And she’s so proud of how far you’ve come.

If this resonated with you, stay close. Follow me over at @ROSE.UNCHAINED for more real conversations about healing, sobriety, and becoming who you were always meant to be. We’re all just learning to love ourselves back home. 🌹⛓💥