HEALING REQUIRES ACTION
- msknowledgeofficial
- Jun 1
- 4 min read
In the beginning, I didn't know what I wanted.
Did I want accountability? Did I want justice? Did I want revenge?
The truth is, I wanted all of it.
I wanted the people who intentionally hurt me to feel what I felt. I wanted them to experience the confusion, disappointment, isolation, and pain that had become part of my daily life. I wanted them to understand what it felt like to stand alone while others watched. I wanted them to experience the consequences of their choices in the same way I was experiencing the consequences of mine.
Those feelings lived inside of me for a long time. I replayed conversations, decisions, and situations over and over in my mind. I thought about the people who could have spoken up but didn't. I thought about the people who saw what was happening and chose silence. I thought about the people who knew better and did nothing.
Eventually, there was no more room left to carry it.
Depression moved in. Sadness moved in. Isolation moved in. The weight of everything that had happened became heavier than my ability to hold it. I felt abandoned by systems, organizations, friends, family, and people I genuinely believed cared about me. Looking back, I think the hardest part wasn't what happened. The hardest part was realizing how many people watched it happen.
At that point, I had a decision to make.
I could stay there. I could continue carrying the anger, disappointment, and hurt. I could spend my days replaying what happened and waiting for people to become who they had already shown me they were not. I could slowly disappear into the pain and allow it to define the rest of my life.
Another option existed.
I could take everything I had experienced and use it to help prevent the same thing from happening to someone else.
That decision led me to my laptop.
I opened a blank document and started typing. The words came faster than my fingers could keep up with them. Thoughts that had been trapped inside my head for years suddenly had somewhere to go. What started as writing quickly became release.
After finishing the first rough draft chapter, I went back and read it.
Tears immediately followed.
For the first time, I wasn't looking at the story through my own eyes. I was looking at it as a third party. I was looking at a woman who had been trying to survive while carrying more than anyone realized. I felt bad for her. I hurt for her. I couldn't understand how so many people could watch her struggle and simply continue on with their lives.
Then a different question entered my mind.
Why did YOU keep choosing endurance over self-protection?
That question hurt more than anything anyone else had done.
Understanding why other people behaved the way they did would never heal me. Understanding my own role in the story would.
My role was not causing the harm. My role was not creating the betrayal. My role was not being responsible for the choices other people made.
My role was ignoring red flags, extending grace beyond healthy limits, accepting behavior I should have challenged, and continuing to believe people would become who I needed them to be instead of accepting who they had already shown themselves to be.
That realization marked the beginning of healing.
Healing taught me something that nobody had ever explained to me.
Most people think healing is a feeling.
It isn't.
Healing is a series of decisions.
The decision to stop replaying the same conversation.
The decision to stop looking for validation from people who never intended to give it.
The decision to stop carrying responsibilities that belong to someone else.
The decision to stop making excuses for behavior that hurt you.
The decision to believe what people show you instead of what you hope they become.
People often talk about healing as if it magically arrives one day.
It doesn't.
Healing is work.
Healing is uncomfortable.
Healing requires accountability.
Healing requires boundaries.
Healing requires honesty.
Healing requires action.
Many of us are waiting to feel healed before we move forward.
I learned that movement is often what creates healing.
Learning followed because I started asking better questions.
Growth followed because I stopped seeing myself as powerless.
Accountability followed because I finally understood that my healing was my responsibility, even though the harm was not.
The internet became a resource. TikTok became a resource. Books became resources. Conversations became resources. I listened to people who had experiences similar to my own. I learned from people who were further along in their healing journeys. I challenged beliefs that were no longer serving me.
During that process, something important happened.
Shame disappeared.
The version of me that other people tried to create no longer mattered. What mattered was who I actually was.
I was a leader. I was a builder. I was a teacher. I was someone who developed people, shared knowledge, encouraged growth, and challenged others to become better versions of themselves.
Today, healing looks different than I thought it would.
Healing looks like choosing myself.
Healing looks like creating boundaries without guilt.
Healing looks like walking away when necessary.
Healing looks like building instead of dwelling.
Healing looks like using my experiences to educate, encourage, and empower others.
Most importantly, healing looks like participation.
Nobody can heal for you.
Nobody can grow for you.
Nobody can save you.
The moment I stopped waiting for someone else to fix what was broken and started participating in my own healing, everything changed.
If I can build teams, develop leaders, improve cultures, and create success for major corporations, then the sky is the limit when I'm building my own table.
Healing requires action.
What action are you taking to heal?
— MsKnowledge
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🧡 LinkedIn: Andrea MsKnowledge Gatson
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