What does healing even mean?

I am sitting at a restaurant late at night, and I feel pretty with my cat ears on. The friendly words of the person in front of me are so disturbing that I wait for touching piano music to drown out the chatting and clattering all around, and as he reaches out to pet my pretty kitty ears, I back away, taking another deep gulp of „the grinch“ in front of me.
What people are able to swallow to get through another day has always been a mystery to me.
The witch in the back of my head is giggling, Vodka and sweet woodruff are warming me from the inside and I wonder:

What does healing even mean?

One thing I have to admit about myself is that I have a difficult relationship to this world. Just in general, I tend to see things from the outside and find the absurd aspects about them. I have had a very unique upbringing and have made experiences not many people share. In some cases, I would have been a lot better off without them, that I am aware of.
And still, they are a part of me.

„There is always hope in the world“, are some of those nice words that are thrown upon my kitty ears that night, when again a very touchy hand reaches over the empty glasses between us and I back away even more, I wonder how I managed to turn into his damsel in distress. I don‘t need to be saved from my own head!

But how did we end up here?
Why does he feel the need to proof the possibility of hope to me. Did I ever deny that?
Why is it such an unbearable thing to state concern over some things? To be sad, mad or angry over something that is happening in this world? To mourn something that was lost?
Does healing mean that I have to lose these emotions?
I can picture a person in my thoughts that does not give these kind of musings much space. I see someone with eyes that never look directly at you, and I see an empty smile. I see a sad smile and a shrug when another war explodes. I see a head shake when another flood reminds us of the collapsing climate.
I do not want to be that person.
And that is nothing I need to be saved from.
If I lose my relationship to the world, even if it is a difficult one, I lose myself. I lose my voice to speak in. I lose my path and easily get lost.
Sometimes, I think it is the right thing to mourn, to rage.

I remember a song I liked to listen to years ago. When Tori Amos sings “I’m okay when everything is not okay” in her song “Upside down”, I have always hesitated to tune in. By now I think that for me it might be the opposite. I am okay with not being okay.
The result seems similar.
The world is sick. The world is on fire. The pain is felt, that is alright.

My witch keeps on giggling. „Tell him“, she whispers and I order another drink, as I say:
„I found out a while ago that an old friend I have not seen in years has cancer“, I say as the next drink has softened my senses. „I did not miss him when I thought he was out there doing his thing. But now I do.“
Still there is this smile on the face in front of me. „Sometimes, it‘s time to close a chapter.“
I want to empty my last ice cubes over someone’s head.
I don‘t want to lose my sense of not wanting to see someone suffer.
That is a wish I feel the need to cling to.
It makes me human.

„I can understand how people are insecure about having children these days.“
„If the poor people in Africa can have hope for their children, we can too“, is the response to that and someone’s would have deserved those ice cubes.

I don‘t think it‘s fair to use the fate of actual people for the one or the other argumentation in this matter. I would neither point at someone‘s suffering and find proof for giving up hope, and I also would not like to state that if even this misery can be endured a lot more things can. It is just not fair.

And still, I think everyone has the right not to suffer, and when it still happens, it can make me sad, or furious, or whatever else.

Because if not, who am I? If I swallow up those thoughts and emotions just to get through the day, then why am I even bothering doing so?

I look at the person in front of me smiling the warmest smile I have ever seen, and I realize that I may never feel as okay as he would like me to. I will most likely never get over a certain sadness I carry with me, never leave all of my anxieties behind. Maybe I will never raise children, because my relationship to being alive would not allow me to do it well, and I begin to think that maybe that will be okay.
I will probably never be the peaceful and unbothered person I can picture in my thoughts.

If that is the case, what does healing even mean for me?
Maybe, it just means to keep going and do the things that matter to be despite all of this.
To find a standing in this world that feels honest.
To survive the sadness.
The rage.
Without denying it.
But never will I give up on my problems I have with this world, on my thoughts and emotions towards it.

To be honest, I don‘t know what healing even means.