I Need the Recipe: Craving Step-by-Step Instructions for Healing
I’ve always been a yes, but how? kind of person.
Tell me it’s possible, and I believe you. But then my next question is always “ok, but how do I actually do it? “ I’ve been this way as far back as I can remember. Whether it was learning how to make cake with my grandma, learning how to have a relationship with God, or figuring out how to get through school… Shoot, let’s just say navigating every step in my life, I’ve always wanted the recipe. The exact measurements. The clear instructions. Step-by-step. No vague directions like “season to taste” or “trust the process.” I need to know how long, how much, and what temperature to set the oven at. This is why, although I CAN cook, I prefer to bake… the measurements.
So…you can imagine my frustration when it came to healing.
I wanted someone to hand me a list. A printable checklist, if possible. "Do these five things and you’ll be whole." "Say these affirmations every morning, and the pain will disappear." "Set these boundaries, write in this journal, and voilà, peace restored."
Chile…Healing doesn’t work like that.
No one tells you that healing is less of a recipe and more of a relationship with yourself. It’s messy. It’s not linear. As much as I wanted someone to give me an instruction manual, I had to learn to trust my own knowing. Wait, scratch that… I HAVE to learn to trust my own knowing. That part was (and sometimes still is) hard for me. Because following instructions, following a recipe feels safe. Checking boxes feels productive. Howsoever, sitting with myself, giving grace to my emotions, and learning to honor my limits is the real work. It don’t come on my handy-dandy baking formula saved in a sheet protector.
Healing has its own rhythm. Some days, you’re mixing ingredients you didn’t even know you had, like self-compassion, rest, or saying no. Other days, it feels like you’re cleaning up the same outbursts, tantrums, and reactions over and over again. And that’s okay. That’s part of the process.
I’m learning that healing isn’t a single recipe; it’s more like learning how to cook intuitively. You start to recognize what you need more of, what you need less of. You season your life to taste.
So, for my fellow but how? folks, I see you. I know the frustration of wanting clear directions on how to heal. Perhaps the real instructions sound like this:
Pay attention to what feels good in your body.
Give yourself permission to pause.
Trust that small steps count.
Let the process be imperfect.
That’s not the recipe I wanted. But it’s the one that’s been nourishing me.
