When Healing Doesn’t Feel Good: What I’m Learning From the Messy Middle

I Came Back to Blogging and Social Media Ready to Be Seen — Then Life Humbled Me

When I decided to return to these platforms such as Instagram and my blog, I knew it would mean being vulnerable — like, truly raw, nervous-system-on-display vulnerable. Not because I “had to,” but because I’m committed to being myself. I’m committed to the practice of being real, of showing up even when I’m not polished or thriving. As a Highly Sensitive Person, that kind of honesty feels like walking around like an exposed nerve. In the past, I would’ve ghosted. I’d call it a “social media break,” while quietly suffering. But this time? I’m staying.

I Came Back During a “Healing High” But Healing Had Other Plans

When I reopened my Instagram account in February, I felt pretty aligned. A little tender, sure, but also safe. Inspired. Ready to share the vision I had for my life and work. And the love I received was incredible.

But one thing I’ve learned about healing (and maybe you have too):

It is not linear.
It has its own timing.
And sometimes it takes you places you didn’t ask to go.

Right Now, I’m In the Messy Middle

I’m struggling. I’ve had to break down everything I thought I knew about myself. And while that breakdown is making space for a more me version of me, I can’t lie, this part is hard. If you’ve ever felt like you’re unraveling and becoming at the same time, you know what I mean.

Healing From Autistic Burnout Has Been a Long, Quiet Battle

I’ve been healing from autistic burnout for… honestly, I don’t know how long. Maybe since 2023, when I took two weeks off work without knowing why my body and mind were shutting down.

Looking back, the signs were always there. The constant performance, the self-monitoring, the overstimulation.

And the thing about burnout is, it builds slowly. Brick by brick, I created walls to protect myself. And over time, those bricks became four walls—four thick, isolating walls that I lived inside from 2023 through most of 2025.

I self-analyzed, self-coached, self-soothed. And for a time, it helped. I needed to peel back layers of shame and hyper-functioning. But eventually, that helpful phase tipped into hypervigilance. Protection turned into paralysis.

I Started Dismantling the Wall, One Brick at a Time

Lately, every day feels like punching out one brick in that wall to see what’s waiting outside. And some days, it’s beautiful. Other days, it’s something like depression - A common companion of autistic burnout, and one that crept in after long stretches of disconnect — even from the things I used to love. I stopped doing the things that used to nourish me, out of fear of overstimulation. My nervous system learned to flinch at joy.

The Day I Broke Down Completely

Last week, I felt the worst I’ve felt in a long time, maybe ever.

I was sobbing in my car between work tasks, dissociating while trying to “keep it together,” and questioning everything, my business, my healing, my purpose. And still, days before that, I told my friends:
“I feel the best I’ve ever felt.”
Which was true.

If that doesn’t summarize the non-linear nature of healing, I don’t know what does.

9 Things I’ve Learned in the Messy Middle

Because I believe in practicing vulnerability, not perfection, I want to share some insights from this tender place I’m in:

1. Being stuck in hyper-self-protection is sometimes necessary… until it isn’t.
   It helped me heal. Then it started hurting me.

2. I’ve been too close to my new autism identity.
   It consumed everything - my therapy, thoughts, content. I forgot what it felt like to just be Abbey.

3. I’ve over-identified with online narratives.
   What’s true for someone else isn’t always true for me. I get to live my story.

4. I don’t have to analyze everything I feel.
   I can make decisions based on how I feel now, not on every possible outcome.

5. I’m ready to act again.
   I don’t have to fear every decision. I trust my body to say “enough.”

6. Rest isn’t avoidance.
   Taking breaks doesn’t mean I’ve failed. It means I’m wise enough to protect my peace.

7. I’m allowed to evolve.
   If you knew me last week, no, you didn’t (haha). I’m constantly changing. And that’s okay.

8. My comfort zone can expand.
   Just because it feels small now doesn’t mean it will stay that way.

9. Boundaries can change.
   I’ve crossed some of my own recently. I’m learning, adjusting, forgiving.

You Are Not Only Your Labels, Struggles, or Stories

To my fellow deep-feelers, empaths, sensitives, neurodivergent friends:
You are not your burnout.
You are not only your struggle.
You are a full, complex, resilient human being.

Progress doesn’t always feel like growth.
Sometimes it’s grief.
Sometimes it’s rest.
Sometimes it’s not going backward; it’s unbecoming to become something new.

Soft Note from the Trenches

I never aim to teach from a place of mastery. I teach from where I have been and where I am: in the muck, in the middle, in the in-between.

If you’re here too: exhausted, raw, and trying to find a new way to live that actually works for your sensitive nervous system, just know:
You’re not alone. You’re not behind. You’re becoming. And I’m becoming with you.

And if you ever want support in learning how to care for your energy - not in a hustle, performative, self-optimization way - but in a soft, body-honoring, nervous-system-aware way… I created Small Shifts, Big Energy just for that.

Helping Sensitive Souls Come Home to Themselves

This is my work— helping sensitive souls connect with their energy and finally feel at home in themselves for the first time.

Not through force, but through softness, honesty and choosing to keep walking, even when the path is unclear.

And if that’s where you are too, I hope you feel seen here. I’m walking it with you.

Love,

Abbey