There was a time when I was discouraged in my healing, and I felt like I had somehow ended up right back where I started. It felt like the same emotions, the same questions, the same ache. I remember saying to a dear friend, “Why am I here again? Haven’t I already worked through this?”
She offered me a picture I’ve never forgotten and in the years since I have thought a lot about what she said.
She told me, “Trauma can feel like living alone on top of a mountain. Isolated. Exposed. Stuck in a place you never meant to stay. If we are honest, it’s a place we never wanted to be. But it felt safe up there. Eventually, healing must come, and healing—real healing—is the long journey of walking down off that mountain.
But it’s not a straight path.
It winds.
It circles.
It doubles back in ways that can make you feel disoriented.
So sometimes, when you look around, it feels like you’re standing in the same place you’ve already been. The same view. The same terrain. The same pain is rising in familiar ways.
But you’re not.
You’re just on the same side of the mountain…further down than you were before.”
That truth settled deep in me.
Because I realized what felt like failure was actually progress. What felt like being stuck was really movement—slow, steady, often unseen, but it was real. Healing isn’t a clean descent. It is layered, patient, and sometimes painfully repetitive.
Over time, I realized something else too—I did come down off that mountain. Not in a single moment, not in a dramatic breakthrough, but step by step, grace by grace.
And even now, I know there will always be places in me that need healing. Always more growing to do. But I am not where I once was. I have come down off that mountain.
The lessons I learned there still live in me. The strength that was formed there didn’t disappear when the season changed. And more than anything, I did not walk that mountain alone.
There was One who walked with me every step of the way.
The One who, when I was too weary to keep going, carried me.
And He still does.
So when I find myself in a place that feels familiar—when old wounds whisper or old struggles resurface—I remind myself:
This isn’t the top of the mountain. I’ve already come down.
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