Heal, Unlearn and Do better

As I entered my forties this year, I found myself reflecting less on what I have achieved and more on who I have become. Not the titles, not the accomplishments, not the milestones, but the person underneath all of it. And if there is one thing life has taught me over the years, it is this: healing isn't enough. We also need to unlearn. And then we need to do better.

For a long time, I thought healing was the destination. I imagined that if I read enough books, worked on myself hard enough, went to therapy, had difficult conversations, and spent enough time understanding my wounds, one day I would arrive at a place where everything felt easy. A place where I would never get triggered, never doubt myself, never make the wrong decision, and never choose the wrong people. Life, of course, had other plans.

What I have learned instead is that healing is not about becoming perfect. It is about becoming aware. Awareness of our patterns. Awareness of our fears. Awareness of the stories we have been carrying around for years without ever questioning whether they are still true. But awareness alone changes very little. The real work begins when we start questioning those stories and deciding whether they still deserve a place in our lives.

I remember spending much of my adult life wearing independence like a badge of honour. I was proud of being the woman who could handle everything on her own. Building a career, raising a child, managing a household, and navigating life in a country that wasn't my own. I genuinely believed that strength meant not needing anyone. I thought asking for help was a sign of weakness. Looking back now, I realise I wasn't necessarily being strong. I was being guarded.

There is a difference.

Somewhere along the way, I learned that relying on people could lead to disappointment. Whether through life experiences, heartbreaks, or simply trying to protect myself, I built a version of myself that depended almost entirely on me. From the outside, it looked like independence. Underneath, it was fear. Fear of being vulnerable. Fear of being let down. Fear of giving someone the opportunity to hurt me.

Healing helped me see that.

But unlearning it was far more difficult.

Because unlearning requires us to challenge beliefs that have become part of our identity. Sometimes we become so attached to our coping mechanisms that we mistake them for personality traits. We say things like, "That's just who I am." But is it really who we are? Or is it simply who we had to become to survive a particular chapter of our lives?

I think many of us carry stories that were written years ago by younger versions of ourselves. Stories about love, trust, success, failure, worthiness, and belonging. The problem is that we often continue living by those stories long after they have stopped serving us.

For years, I believed my value came from achievement. Work harder. Achieve more. Be useful. Be productive. Help everyone. Be indispensable. Somewhere along the way, I tied my worth to how much I could do for other people. It took me a very long time to understand that my value was never dependent on my performance.

That realisation sounds simple, but it changed everything.

Because once you stop chasing validation, you begin making different decisions. You stop saying yes when you want to say no. You stop over-explaining yourself. You stop trying to convince people to choose you. You stop exhausting yourself proving your worth. Instead, you start choosing yourself too.

And that is where doing better comes in.

Because knowing something intellectually is one thing. Living it is another.

There have been many moments in my life when I knew exactly what the healthy choice was and still struggled to make it. Moments when I knew I should rest but continued working. Moments when I knew I deserved more but accepted less. Moments when I knew I should speak up but stayed silent. Awareness alone does not change our lives. Action does.

Growth happens when we choose a different response than the one we would have chosen five years ago. It happens when we stop repeating the same patterns. When we stop blaming our past for every decision we make in the present. When we take responsibility for the person we are becoming.

As I get older, I find myself less interested in being right and more interested in becoming better. Better at listening. Better at communicating. Better at understanding perspectives different from my own. Better at apologising when I get things wrong. Better at giving grace. Better at protecting my peace.

Perhaps that is what maturity really looks like.

Not perfection.

Not having all the answers.

Not becoming some flawless version of ourselves.

But having enough self-awareness to recognise when something no longer serves us, enough courage to let it go, and enough humility to choose differently next time.

The truth is, this process never ends. Even now, at forty, I am still learning. Still unlearning. Still making mistakes. Still growing. The difference is that I no longer see growth as a destination. I see it as a lifelong relationship with myself. One built on curiosity instead of judgement, compassion instead of criticism, and progress instead of perfection.

Because perhaps the goal was never to become completely healed.

Perhaps the goal is simply to become a little wiser. A little kinder. A little more honest. A little more aligned with the person we want to be.

So if life is asking something of you right now, maybe it isn't asking you to become more. Maybe it is asking you to let go of something. An old belief. An old fear. An old story. An old version of yourself.

Heal.

Unlearn.

Do better.

And then repeat.

Because growth, I have come to realise, is not a finish line. It is a lifelong conversation between who we have been and who we are still becoming.

From my heart to yours,

CM

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