There is no deadline on becoming who you’re meant to be.
I remind myself of this every time I catch that familiar urge to rush — to finish healing, to move on, to be “past” things I’m still gently working through. Books have taught me patience in ways nothing else has. Stories unfold at their own pace. So do people.
Some chapters are meant to be lingered in. Others are meant to be closed quietly, without ceremony. Both are valid. Both matter.
Healing isn’t linear, and it isn’t urgent.
It’s layered, slow, and deeply personal.
And I’m allowed to take my time.
Reading Trauma Mama: Velvet & Taboo 