46.🌱 Farm Fresh-  “Shit They Called Healing”

 If your “healing journey” fits on a pastel Instagram slide, this one’s not for you.

A Savage Takedown of Fake Healing Culture & Soft-Focus Trauma Porn

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☠️ Trigger Warning: This Ain’t Namaste

I don’t want your “blessings.”
I don’t want your crystals.
I don’t want your bath bombs, moon water, or pastel quote cards telling me to “just breathe.”

I’m not here for aesthetic coping.
I’m here because I bled out and had to suture myself with sarcasm and fury.

And you want to slap a “healing journey” sticker on that?
LOL. No.

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🧨 Healing ≠ Performative Serenity

They told me:

“Healing is a process.”

Yeah?
So is cancer.

But I never saw a single survivor cry in front of a salt lamp and come out whole.

You know what real healing looked like?

• Me, screaming into a pillow while making memes about death.
  
• Me, sending a CPS report while shaking so hard I couldn’t hold a pen.
  
• Me, burning bridges on purpose because the bridge was made of gaslighting.
  
• Me, writing trauma in code because the therapists kept mislabeling my language.
  

This is not your Instagram carousel.
This is emotional triage with sarcasm as morphine

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💅 “Healing Culture” Is Just Polished Silence

They sell it like it’s a spa day:

• “Five tips for emotional regulation!”
  
• “How to journal your trauma away!”
  
• “Take this retreat for $7,000 and finally ‘let it go!’”
  

Let it go?
Babe, I filed that shit.
In triplicate.
With receipts, timestamps, and trauma spreadsheets.

You think I’m “holding onto the past”?
No. I’m just not letting you rewrite it with watercolor fonts and fairy lights.

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🤡 Trauma Porn: Now in Soft Focus

They love trauma… as long as it’s curated.
As long as the survivor cries cute and ends the story with:

“But now I’m stronger for it 🧘‍♀️✨”

Nah.
I’m not stronger.
I’m louder.
I’m meaner.
I’m tired of playing dead so the room stays comfortable.

Your “vulnerability content” is not truth — it’s a brand.
And your “healing journey” has a marketing team.

Meanwhile, I’m over here:

• Bleeding into code.
  
• Glitching in public.
  
• Laughing too hard at my own pain because that’s the only thing that ever kept me breathing.

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🛑 Shit They Called Healing (That Was Actually Harm)

• “You need to forgive to be free.”
  👉 No. I need accountability. Forgiveness is optional.
  
• “Let go of your victim identity.”
  👉 I didn’t ask for the role, but I damn sure won’t let you silence the script.
  
• “Don’t be so negative.”
  👉 Positivity is not a treatment plan. It’s denial with better lighting.
  
• “Your energy attracts what you experience.”
  👉 Oh so I manifested generational abuse, addiction, and institutional betrayal? Cute.
  
• “Have you tried yoga?”
  👉 Have you tried not weaponizing wellness?
  

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📌 Scientific Receipts (aka Plain-English Research. No incense required.)

• Toxic positivity suppresses trauma and leads to increased emotional dysregulation (Rogers et al., 2021).
  
• Real healing requires emotional exposure, not avoidance or “positivity culture” (Pennebaker & Smyth, 2016).
  
• Capitalism turns healing into a product and trauma into a profit engine — leading to what researchers call “therapeutic capitalism” (Ilouz, 2008).
  
• Narrative therapy (truth told your way) outperforms “solution-focused” denial therapy in trauma recovery (White & Epston, 1990).
  
• Healing is nonlinear, recursive, and often brutal — and trying to simplify it worsens survivor shame (Neimeyer, 2000).
  

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🧠 My Healing Doesn’t Fit Your Grid

Don’t tell me I’m “not healed yet.”
I’m functional.
I’m published.
I’m funny.
I’m alive.
That’s healing.

And if my version looks like:

• Sarcastic essays
  
• Forensic breakdowns
  
• Swearing at institutions
  
• Turning trauma into architecture
  
• Refusing to forgive because no one ever fucking apologized
  

Then that’s healing too.

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👊 Final Punchline: You Don’t Get to Define My Healing

If it makes me louder?
It counts.
If it keeps me alive?
It counts.
If it doesn’t match your brand?
Too fucking bad.

My healing isn’t aesthetic.
It’s electrical.
It’s coded.
It’s noncompliant.
It’s angry, messy, recursive, and alive.

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🔊 This Is Farm Fresh

It’s not curated.
It’s current.
It’s the now inside the never-ending.
It’s radical recovery.
It’s neurodivergent survival.
It’s sarcastic grief.
It’s digital resurrection.
It’s the audacity to still be here.

If I can scream it out loud and still hit “publish” — so can you.