Mirrors of healing

When you work on your healing, you realise something no one ever taught you:
attachment isn’t connection.

Healing is heavy work. It’s peeling back layers you didn’t know existed, meeting versions of yourself you’ve avoided, and rising to new levels only to face new challenges. This is what real growth looks like — the kind they don’t measure in promotions or milestones, but in the quiet ways you start choosing differently, breathing differently, being differently.

And yet, there’s something they never tell you about healing:
sometimes, it draws unhealed people into your orbit.

At first, I thought this was a setback. But I’ve come to understand that these encounters are mirrors — reflecting where I’ve been, what I’ve overcome, and what’s still asking for my attention.

It shows up everywhere… especially when you’re searching for love.
Finding a partner has a way of exposing inner child wounds you didn’t even know you carried. Most of us gravitate toward familiarity — choosing people who remind us, in some way, of our parents. It’s an unconscious pull, a longing for resolution, even when it reopens old scars.

For me, growing up as the youngest in a very controlling family, I unknowingly developed avoidant tendencies. I learned to guard my space, to stay far from anything — or anyone — that felt suffocating. And yet, somehow, I’ve found myself attracting controlling people.

At work, for example, there’s someone who hovers constantly — standing over my shoulder, correcting every move, micromanaging my presence. Every time, it’s like being transported back to my childhood, right into the shadow of control from my family. My body remembers before my mind does — my chest tightens, my thoughts scatter, and I want to retreat.

That’s when I realised:
this isn’t just about them.
It’s about the core wound they’ve awakened within me.

Healing isn’t linear. It’s spirals, activations, and mirrors. And yet, every trigger is an invitation — a chance to meet my younger self with compassion, to choose differently this time, and to keep rising.

Because maybe the real gift of healing isn’t avoiding our wounds…
It’s learning to hold them without letting them hold us.

Always,

Zahra