The truth about healing is that you don’t need to heal to be whole.
By whole, I mean damaged, missing pieces of who you were, your heart— missing what feels like some of your most important parts. Yet not missing any parts of you all. Being, in truth, larger than you were before.
Because all of us are made not only of what we have but of what we lost.
And lost is not a subtraction. As an experience, it is an addition.
[She] insisted, running was romantic; and no, of course her friends didn’t get it because they’d never broken through. For them, running was a miserable two miles motivated solely by size 6 jeans: get on the scale, get depressed, get your headphones on, and get it over with. But you can’t muscle through a five-hour run that way; you have to relax into it, like easing your body into a hot bath, until it no longer resists the shock and begins to enjoy it.