“Why Do I Still Feel Broken After All This Healing?”
A real and slightly ridiculous exchange between Laughing Crow and his student, Moonfeather (who is, regrettably, very tired of crying)
Moonfeather stomped into my office like a man on a mission… but also on the edge of a breakdown. Hair wild. Eyes twitching. He looked like he’d spent the night arguing with his spirit guides and losing badly. He didn’t sit. He collapsed. Flat on the floor like a dramatic possum giving up on life.
“I swear to the Spirits, Crow,” he moaned, “if I have to do one more round of healing, I’m going to start charging my inner child rent.”
I blinked. “Well,” I said, “that sounds emotionally healthy.”
He sat up, arms flailing like he was mid interpretive tantrum. “I’ve done everything. Inner child? Hugged. Ancestral wounds? Faced. Shadow work? Been there, cried that. I even stopped drinking coffee for a week to 'connect with my nervous system.' Why the hell do I still feel like a cracked iPhone screen taped together with crystals and affirmations?!”
I sipped my tea with the weary patience of a man who has witnessed this same meltdown in various forms since 1997. “Because, Moonfeather, healing isn’t a straight line. It’s a damn spiral. You’re not going backward—you’re going deeper. Think of it less like a road map and more like a mystical slinky.”
He squinted at me. “So you're saying this isn’t regression?”
“No,” I said. “It’s progression disguised as déjà vu. Triggers aren’t signs you’re broken—they’re signs your psyche is finally like, ‘Hey! Remember this wound? You're ready to deal with it in a way that doesn’t involve panic-pooping or texting your ex.’”
He blinked. “That’s… oddly specific.”
“Yeah,” I said, “we’ve all been there.”
“Look,” I continued, “each time an old wound comes back, it’s not to punish you. It’s to invite you into a deeper truth. To shift from reaction to presence. You’re not failing—you’re refining. You’ve got better tools now. Less crying-on-the-floor and more grounded-while-breathing-through-it.”
Moonfeather groaned and pulled his hoodie over his face. “But I already made peace with my dad stuff. Why is it back?!”
“Because your nervous system finally trusts you enough to let go of the next layer. Healing is like emotional Tetris—it keeps dropping blocks until you build something stable enough to stop playing. Which may be never, by the way.”
He poked one eye out from under the hoodie. “So I’m not broken?”
“Nope,” I said. “You’re becoming. Broken would mean you’re done. You, my friend, are still gloriously under construction.”
So to all the Moonfeathers out there—if your wounds come knocking again, don’t yell “Not this s*** again!” Try whispering, “Okay, let’s see what’s underneath this time.” You're not regressing. You're just spiraling deeper into the truth of who you are. And sometimes that truth cries in the shower, rage-cleans the kitchen, or listens to sad music on full blast while Googling “am I ascending or just dehydrated?” Either way, you’re doing great. Keep going.
Need a guide through your next spiritual loop-de-loop? Consultations and healings at www.living5d3d.com — for the spiritually exhausted, emotionally evolving, and gloriously half-unraveled souls who are done pretending they’ve got it all together.