Daily Capsule Series: You Have Nothing to Prove
There are wounds that are never seen, but they sit inside people like small fires that never go out. There are tears that are wiped away so quickly that no one notices they were ever there. There are stories so painful we have trained ourselves never to say them out loud. Not even to ourselves.
Some days, there are things we go through in this life that we cannot put even into words. And even if we could, who would really understand? Who would sit quietly and listen without rushing us? Without fixing us? Without changing the subject when the silence becomes heavy? And there are moments when all someone wants is to be asked, “Are you truly okay?” and to be allowed to answer honestly.
But the truth is, many of us are not okay.
And that is not something to be ashamed of. It is something to sit with. Something to hold gently. Something to respect.
There was a time I believed healing was something you could force. I thought healing was a race. I believed that if I could just get over it fast enough, if I could bury the hurt under smiles, routines, and strength, then maybe it would vanish. I thought if I prayed hard enough, worked hard enough, kept myself busy enough, or smiled wide enough, then maybe the pain would quietly slip away.
I thought I had to look okay on the outside or else people would avoid me, pity me, or think I had failed. So, I pushed myself through pain. I smiled when I was crumbling. I laughed at jokes that hurt. I stayed quiet about things I was desperate to scream. And even when I was breaking, I told everyone, “I’m fine.” But that never worked because pain does not disappear just because you refuse to speak of it. Healing is not a performance. Some wounds do not shrink with silence. They grow.
Healing is not something we do for applause or approval. It is not a project with a deadline. It is not a neat path where you move from pain to peace in a straight line. Healing is messy. It is confusing. It is lonely at times. It brings you face to face with the parts of yourself you wish you could forget. It demands honesty. It demands patience. And it demands grace.
Many of us carry invisible scars. Wounds we cover up with work, laughter, overthinking, religion, noise, and silence. We are moving through life with heavy hearts pretending we are fine because it feels safer to pretend than to explain. We post happy pictures and laugh at jokes, but inside we are carrying the weight of things no one sees. Things we have not told even the people closest to us.
Some are healing from heartbreak that shattered more than just their hearts. Others are recovering from betrayal that made them question everyone, even themselves. Some are mourning people who are still alive, just no longer present. No longer call, no longer come, no longer care. Some are carrying childhood wounds that were never addressed. Some are grieving versions of themselves they had to bury too soon. Some are still trying to believe that what happened to them was not their fault.
Some are battling sicknesses they cannot explain. Misfortunes they cannot wrap their heads around. Some are facing spiritual doubts they are afraid to voice because people expect them to always be strong in their faith. Others are watching their lives drift far from the dreams they once held so tightly. Some are grieving friendships that slowly faded without explanation. Some are carrying the weight of childhood wounds. The words that were said too harshly or the love that was never given. Some are still trying to forgive people who never apologized.
Some are tired of being strong for everyone else while secretly falling apart themselves. Some are angry at life but do not know where to take that anger, so they swallow it and keep going. Some are stuck in jobs that are draining the life out of them but feel too afraid to leave. Some are caring for others while no one checks on them. Some have buried so many people, they are now numb to grief. Some are going through breakups they never imagined would happen. Some are in marriages where they feel invisible. Others are trying to rebuild after being left with nothing.
Some are still waiting for answers. Waiting for closure. Waiting for peace. Waiting for the apology they know will never come. Some are carrying shame from mistakes they made when they were too young to know better. Some are hiding their loneliness behind jokes. Some cry in the bathroom at work and wipe their faces before returning to their desks. Some are living with a secret they have never said out loud. Some are fighting battles that cannot be seen from the outside. And some are simply tired, not just in their bodies, but in their souls.
Some are still learning to believe that what happened to them was not their fault. Others are fighting invisible illnesses or living with diagnoses they cannot make sense of. Some are dealing with misfortunes that came out of nowhere and flipped their lives upside down. Some are stuck in cycles of survival, barely making it through the day, pretending to function. Some are parenting their own children while still trying to heal from how they were raised.
Some are praying silently every night for a break, for relief, for just one person to ask how they are really doing and mean it. Some are smiling in public while breaking in private. Some have not heard their own laughter in weeks. Others feel like they are always being left behind, no matter how hard they try. Some are raising children while trying to heal from how they were raised. Some are watching their parents grow old and helpless, and it hurts in a way they cannot even explain. Some are giving their all and still feel unseen.
There are people right now holding on by a thread. People who are begging God for one more reason to keep going. People who are doing their best and still feel like it is never enough. People who feel guilty for being sad when others have it worse. People who want to be okay but do not even know where to start. People who are hoping that maybe, just maybe, this chapter of their life is not where their story ends.
Some are caring for sick parents. Some have buried loved ones and returned to work the next week because life does not give space to grieve. Some are stuck in relationships that no longer feel safe. Some feel invisible in their own marriages. Some were left without warning. Some had to start over from scratch. Some are healing from abuse they have never spoken of. Some are healing from mistakes they made when they did not know better. Some are tired of being strong for others while no one is strong for them.
Some are praying silently every night not for riches or fame, but just for peace. Some are waiting for one person to notice they are not okay. Some cry in bathrooms and wipe their faces so no one will ask questions. Some laugh too loudly because silence terrifies them. Some are still waiting for closure that will never come. Some are still hoping that one day, the pain will explain itself. Some feel stuck between who they used to be and who they are trying to become. Some feel like they are failing at life simply because they are not healing fast enough.
And yet, they wake up. Yes, even with all this pain, they show up. They get dressed. They show up. They take care of others. They show up for work. They show up for family. They show up for birthdays and weddings. They show up for friends and strangers. They attend meetings. They smile for photos. They say, “I’m fine.” But their eyes tell a different story. Their hearts whisper, “Help me.” Their souls scream into pillows at night when the world is quiet.
That is because when it comes to our own healing, we keep postponing it. We keep telling ourselves, “I will deal with it later. I will cry when I have time. I will rest after I fix this.” And sometimes, later never comes.
You might be one of these people.
And if you are any of these people, or all of them at once, this is for you. You may even know someone in a similar state too. This is equally for them. You are not alone. You are not forgotten. You are not strange for feeling what you feel. Neither are you weak. You are never broken beyond repair. And you are definitely not falling behind. This life has not been easy, but look at you, still here, still breathing, still trying. That counts for something. That matters more than most people know.
You are doing something incredibly hard. You are healing. Slowly. Quietly. Gently. At your own pace. That is not failure. That is strength. Healing is not about forgetting. It is about remembering without letting the memory control you. It is about learning how to breathe again even though the air feels heavy. It is about standing even when your legs shake. It is about choosing not to give up, even when everything inside you tells you to. It is about choosing to love again, trust again, live again, even when it feels risky.
The world we live in does not give space for slow healing. It teaches us to move on quickly. It rewards quick recovery and public strength. It claps for those who can move on fast and forget fast. But what about those of us who cannot forget? What about those of us who are still bleeding internally while walking upright? What about those of us whose wounds did not just come and go, but stayed?
You are not a weak person just because you feel deeply. You are not lazy because you need rest. You are not broken because your healing is taking longer than others expect. You are not less of a person because you have days when getting out of bed feels like a victory. You are not a disappointment because you cry at night and wipe your tears before anyone sees.
You are human. Your soul needs time. Your heart needs rest. Your pain deserves respect. You are not healing from a scratch. You are healing from a story. And stories take time to untangle, to understand, to rewrite. The next day, you remember something that breaks you all over again. That is not a failure. That is healing. It moves forward, backward, and sideways. It does not care if it makes sense to anyone else.
Hence, as human beings, we do not heal in perfect order. Or have a script for that. It is unique to everyone. Healing does not happen on a schedule. It does not follow a calendar. It does not answer to anyone’s expectations. One day you are okay, the other, you are not. So let it take time.
Let your healing be soft. Let it be tender. Let it be slow. You do not need to be polished to be worthy. You do not need to have it all together to be loved. You do not have to explain your pain for it to be valid. And you certainly do not have to pretend.
Sometimes you will cry for reasons you cannot name. Sometimes the memories will return when you least expect. Sometimes someone’s words will open an old wound you thought was closed. And sometimes you will just feel tired, not because your body is weak, but because your heart is. That is all part of the journey.
You are not late. You are not falling behind. You are not a sad story waiting to be fixed. You are a soul doing the slow, painful, and holy work of becoming whole again.
And you do not need to rush it.
If someone asks why you are still hurting, let them know it is because the love was real, the loss was real, the pain was deep, and the experience shaped something inside you. You are not healing from a scratch. You are healing from a story. And stories take time to rewrite.
There is something powerful about giving yourself permission to feel everything. Not just the good parts, not just the polished parts, but all of it. Let yourself feel the sadness, the anger, the regret, the hope, the confusion, and the fear. Let your healing be messy. Let it be raw. Let it be slow. There is no prize for pretending to be okay.
Some of the strongest people you know are carrying silent battles. Some of the kindest people you meet have walked through unspeakable pain. Some of the happiest people you admire once cried in places where no one could see them. You are not alone in this.
And remember, real healing is not about forgetting. It is about learning how to live with what happened without letting it define you anymore. It is about remembering what you survived and still being able to smile one day. Not because it did not hurt, but because you grew from it.
So if you are in the middle of it right now, do not be ashamed. If you are still learning how to breathe again, you are not weak. You are healing. That alone is a quiet kind of strength the world may never clap for, but heaven understands.
You are not a project. You are not a puzzle to be solved. You are a full person. Complex, beautiful, and still becoming. You have nothing to prove to anyone. Your healing is your own. Let it take as long as it needs.
This is your life. This is your journey. You owe no one an explanation for how long it takes. And if some people grow tired of your process, let them go. If they cannot sit with your silence, they do not deserve your laughter. If they cannot walk with you through the valley, they do not deserve to dance with you on the mountain.
Let today be the day you remove the pressure. Let it be the day you stop hiding your ache. Let it be the day you remind yourself that breathing is enough. That trying is enough. That staying is enough.
And when you feel like giving up, read this again. Let it remind you that even your slow steps are still steps. Let it remind you that even your brokenness can still be beautiful. Let it remind you that you are not a project. You are a person. You are a story. You are a soul.
And you have nothing to prove to anyone.
Something to reflect on:
Are you punishing yourself for not healing fast enough? Are you hiding your wounds just to make others comfortable? Are you measuring your healing based on someone else’s pace? Are you pretending to be okay because you are tired of explaining? Have you forgotten that healing is not a race, but a journey? Have you forgotten how far you have already come?
Breathe.
Let this day carry what yesterday could not.
You are still here. That alone is a miracle.
Let today be a reminder that the slow work of healing is still progress.
No matter what today looks like, your healing is happening, quietly, slowly, faithfully.
You are doing better than you think.
Even if no one sees it, your heart knows what it is carrying.
And that is enough.
By Victor Raul Puobabangna Plance from Eggu in the Upper West Region of Ghana
#Puobabangna
