I’m Healing Out Loud. For Me and Her

I used to think healing had to be quiet.

Private. Pretty. Tucked away like a secret shame.
Like if anyone saw the mess, the ache, the undone edges — I’d somehow be less worthy.
Less strong. Less lovable. Less “together.”

But the truth is, silence wasn’t serving me.

What I really needed was space to speak it. To name the ache. To honor the wounds.
To give my voice back to the parts of me that had learned to suffer in silence.

So now, I’m choosing to heal out loud.

Not because it’s easy.
Not because I have all the answers.
But because I’m no longer willing to pretend that I’m okay when I’m not.
And because I know that when I speak my truth, I give someone else permission to speak theirs too.

This journey — this unraveling and rebuilding — is for me.
But it’s also for her.

For the little girl who learned to be quiet so she wouldn’t be too much.
For the woman I’m still becoming.
And for my daughter, Alexis, who is watching me find power in my softness and clarity in my becoming.

I want her to see that healing isn’t weakness.
It’s legacy.
It’s strength redefined.
It’s loving yourself enough to rewrite the narrative.

So if you’re reading this, maybe you’re somewhere in the middle too.

Still figuring it out.
Still holding both the joy and the grief.
Still showing up, even when it’s messy.

I see you. And I’m rooting for you.

Let’s keep healing out loud.
For the women we are.
For the girls we once were.
For the ones who are watching.

—

Lovee & Light,
Martina Lynn