HEALING DOESN’T MEAN I’M OVER IT

Oct 5

Written By Queen Sheba

x 1.2M views on Cadillac Chronicles!

“A Toxic Love” — For Your GRAMMY® Consideration in the Spoken Word Poetry Category! Voting Begins in 7 Days!

Queen Sheba × Chanté Moore × Lil Ronnie

MEET US IN L.A. IN 7 DAYS!

LA Show Ticket Link:

🎧 LISTEN TO A TOXIC LOVE

HEALING DOESN’T MEAN I’M OVER IT.

I think we use the word healing like it is supposed to be the polite word for finished.

I’m healed, therefore I don’t love you anymore.

I’m healed, therefore nothing hurts.

I’m healed, therefore I never look backward.

I’m healed, therefore I have forgiven everything, forgotten everything, learned my lesson, saged the neighborhood, bought some Palo Santo, found inner peace and now I levitate three inches above everybody who still gets on my nerves.

No.

Healing, for me, is the beginning of acceptance.

Acceptance of what happened.

Acceptance of what I did.

Acceptance of what somebody else did.

Acceptance of what I cannot change.

Acceptance that I can still have feelings for someone and finally stop building my future around the possibility that they might return.

Those are two completely different things.

This past weekend, something in me finally understood the difference.

IT HAPPENED AT THE RACE.

I spent the weekend surrounded by my community at the 9th year of THE RACE 5K & Half Marathon.

People who showed up.

People hugging me.

People laughing with me.

People doing this thing we have built year after year.

Community.

Presence.

Showing up.

Somewhere in the middle of all that love, I had a realization that wasn't dramatic at all.

I had invited my ex to something important to me three times.

They chose not to come.

I had been in the hospital twice.

They chose not to come.

I don't say that to make them a villain.

I say it because I finally stopped editing the information.

There is what I hoped our relationship was.

There is what I wanted it to become.

There is what I believed somebody might eventually do.

Then there is the far less romantic question:

What actually happened?

Standing in the middle of people who had chosen to show up, I finally let the answer be the answer.

Just like that, I stopped holding on to hope.

Not love.

Not feelings.

Hope.

That distinction matters to me.

MY FEELINGS DIDN’T MAGICALLY DISAPPEAR.

Healing did not suddenly make me stop caring about someone I loved deeply.

It didn't erase memories.

It didn't retroactively make every beautiful moment ugly.

It didn't make me wake up Sunday morning and announce:

WHO?! Never heard of them!

That's not healing.

That's amnesia.

What changed was my willingness to keep romanticizing possibility over evidence.

In a clear state of mind, looking at the relationship as it actually existed instead of the relationship I kept believing it could become, I realized:

This is not the kind of relationship I would choose for myself.

I had romanticized more than what was actually my reality while I was in it.

That's painful to admit.

Love can make potential feel like evidence.

Hope can make inconsistency feel temporary.

Generosity can convince you that if you keep giving someone enough understanding, eventually they'll meet you there.

Sometimes they don't.

Healing is being able to see that without needing to hate them for it.

TRACK #12 WAS ALREADY TRYING TO TELL ME THIS.

The hook says:

“Healing,
I'm healing, I'm healing,
staying to myself,
focused on my health.”

Notice what it doesn't say.

I'm over it.

I don't care.

I won.

They lost.

I'm healed.

It says:

I'm healing.

Present tense.

Still happening.

Still becoming.

Still figuring some things out.

Later, I wrote about wanting to “stretch my nervous system” until it remembers how to choose yoga at 11AM “without permission.”

WHEW.

I understand that line differently now.

Because healing for me has become incredibly practical.

I AM TAKING MY MORNINGS BACK.

I'm making time for yoga.

Meditation.

Breathing.

Quiet.

If my morning begins at 6AM, cool.

If my morning begins at 9AM, cool.

If Queen Sheba Morning Services commence at 11:37AM because that's when my life allowed me to finally sit still—

good morning.

😂

I don't need to feel guilty because my schedule doesn't mirror somebody else's perceived schedule.

I don't have to prove productivity before I'm allowed peace.

I don't have to explain why I need rest.

My body gets a vote now.

My nervous system gets a vote.

My peace gets a vote.

The poem says: “My body / is sacred.”

Then: “My rest / is the revolution, / I owe myself.”

I wrote that before I fully understood how much I was going to need it.

HEALING ALSO MEANS I DON'T HAVE TO CARRY ALL OF THE BLAME.

Here's where I am: I did NOT get myself into this alone.

That doesn't mean I don't have accountability.

I do.

I've written about it.

I've talked about it.

I've sat with some deeply uncomfortable truths about myself.

There are things I would do differently.

There are things I regret.

There are things I needed to learn.

Accountability doesn't require me to accept responsibility for another adult's choices.

I did not create every unhealthy dynamic by myself.

I did not make every selfish decision.

I did not manufacture every disappointment.

I can own my side without carrying theirs.

That might be one of the most important things I'm learning.

I am a good person.

I am extraordinarily giving.

Sometimes too giving.

Healing means I don't have to become less loving.

I have to become more discerning about where I put the love.

I don't want relationships where basic care feels like something I have to audition for.

I don't want to convince somebody that what matters to me should matter enough to them to occasionally show up.

I don't want to negotiate for compassion while I'm lying in a hospital.

I don't want to keep calling absence complicated because I love the person who is absent.

That's not bitterness.

That's information.

HERE I AM.

That's healing for me today.

Not: I'm completely over it.

Not: I never loved them.

Not: Nothing hurts anymore.

Just: Here I am.

I did not get myself into this alone.

I am figuring my way out.

I am figuring my way away from toxic people and toxic patterns.

I am taking responsibility for what belongs to me without volunteering to carry what doesn't.

I am paying attention to who shows up.

I am paying attention to myself.

I am choosing yoga. Meditation. Health. Rest. Peace. Joy.

The hook comes back around: “I'm healing, just healing,
focused on myself.”

That's it.

No dramatic declaration.

No ceremonial burning of old photographs.

No pretending I suddenly don't have feelings.

No new person required to prove I've moved forward.

Healing doesn't mean I'm over the person or the thing I'm healing from.

Healing means I have finally stopped requiring a different ending before I allow myself to have a beginning.

I accept what happened.

I accept what didn't happen.

I accept what somebody repeatedly chose.

Most importantly, I accept what I choose now.

Toward the end of “Healing,” I wrote about the old version of me sliding off my shoulders “like a burden / I finally / refuse / to carry.”

I think I'm finally there.

Not healed.

Healing. There is a difference.
🩵

🎟️ MEET US IN LOS ANGELES

A Toxic Love — Live in Los Angeles

Monday, October 12

The Sun Rose — West Hollywood

Queen Sheba × Chanté Moore × Lil Ronnie

GET YOUR LA TICKETS →
https://www.eventim.com/event/chante-moore-lil-ronnie-queen-sheba-live-at-the-sun-rose-22103663/

🎙️ QUEEN SHEBA × CHANTÉ MOORE × LIL RONNIE

Track #12 — “Healing”

A Toxic Love

For your GRAMMY® consideration in the Spoken Word Poetry category.

🎧 LISTEN TO THE FULL ALBUM

https://Venice.lnk.to/a-toxic-love

📺 WATCH CADILLAC CHRONICLES

https://www.instagram.com/p/DeAWVU-lAM4/

#TheQueenSheba #AToxicLove #FYC #SpokenWordPoetry #Healing

Queen Sheba https://www.thequeensheba.live

HEALING DOESN’T MEAN I’M OVER IT

I think we use the word healing like it is supposed to be the polite word for finished.

I’m healed, therefore I don’t love you anymore.

I’m healed, therefore nothing hurts.

I’m healed, therefore I never look backward.

I’m healed, therefore I have forgiven everything, forgotten everything, learned my lesson, saged the neighborhood, bought some Palo Santo, found inner peace and now I levitate three inches above everybody who still gets on my nerves.

No.

Healing, for me, is the beginning of acceptance.

Acceptance of what happened.

Acceptance of what I did.

Acceptance of what somebody else did.

Acceptance of what I cannot change.

Acceptance that I can still have feelings for someone and finally stop building my future around the possibility that they might return.

Those are two completely different things.

This past weekend, something in me finally understood the difference.

IT HAPPENED AT THE RACE.

I spent the weekend surrounded by my community at the 9th year of THE RACE 5K & Half Marathon.

People who showed up.

People hugging me.

People laughing with me.

People doing this thing we have built year after year.

Community.

Presence.

Showing up.

Somewhere in the middle of all that love, I had a realization that wasn't dramatic at all.

I had invited my ex to something important to me three times.

They chose not to come.

I had been in the hospital twice.

They chose not to come.

I don't say that to make them a villain.

I say it because I finally stopped editing the information.

There is what I hoped our relationship was.

There is what I wanted it to become.

There is what I believed somebody might eventually do.

Then there is the far less romantic question:

What actually happened?

Standing in the middle of people who had chosen to show up, I finally let the answer be the answer.

Just like that, I stopped holding on to hope.

Not love.

Not feelings.

Hope.

That distinction matters to me.

MY FEELINGS DIDN’T MAGICALLY DISAPPEAR.

Healing did not suddenly make me stop caring about someone I loved deeply.

It didn't erase memories.

It didn't retroactively make every beautiful moment ugly.

It didn't make me wake up Sunday morning and announce:

WHO?! Never heard of them!

That's not healing.

That's amnesia.

What changed was my willingness to keep romanticizing possibility over evidence.

In a clear state of mind, looking at the relationship as it actually existed instead of the relationship I kept believing it could become, I realized:

This is not the kind of relationship I would choose for myself.

I had romanticized more than what was actually my reality while I was in it.

That's painful to admit.

Love can make potential feel like evidence.

Hope can make inconsistency feel temporary.

Generosity can convince you that if you keep giving someone enough understanding, eventually they'll meet you there.

Sometimes they don't.

Healing is being able to see that without needing to hate them for it.

TRACK #12 WAS ALREADY TRYING TO TELL ME THIS.

The hook says:

“Healing,I'm healing, I'm healing,staying to myself,focused on my health.”

Notice what it doesn't say.

I'm over it.

I don't care.

I won.

They lost.

I'm healed.

It says:

I'm healing.

Present tense.

Still happening.

Still becoming.

Still figuring some things out.

Later, I wrote about wanting to “stretch my nervous system” until it remembers how to choose yoga at 11AM “without permission.”

WHEW.

I understand that line differently now.

Because healing for me has become incredibly practical.

I AM TAKING MY MORNINGS BACK.

“Healing,
I'm healing, I'm healing,
staying to myself,
focused on my health.”

The hook comes back around: “I'm healing, just healing,
focused on myself.”