Healing isn’t always rainbows, butterflies, and reflections that just click. Healing can be sooo boring and anticlimactic. After years of living in dysregulation and destabilizing environments where maybe you’re constantly being hypervigilance, anticipating everyone else’s needs, reading the emotional temperature in every room, or surviving and not thriving, calm can feel bleh, boring, weird, and foreign. When your nervous system has been wired for survival, stability can feel empty. You might catch yourself thinking, “Healing is lame.” or even “When is the other show gonna drop, because it’s way too quiet and things are going well for once”. 👀

But here’s the cold, hard, dull truth: boredom can be a sign that your system is learning safety, which of course is foreign in those who have chronic stressors, trauma, and complex trauma. For many trauma survivors, emotional intensity and instability has been the baseline for so long that peace feels like the absence of anything. If we think about it in a different way, it’s like you’re detoxing from adrenaline and constant crisis mode. The absence of chaos can feel unsettling, almost like something’s missing. You’re no longer in default mode, but learning how to operate in a new calm and peaceful mode.

This phase of healing isn’t what the movies make it out to be, it’s not immediately feeling awesome as soon as you dump all of your stressors into the trash. It’s not the deep cry in therapy, or the big aha moment, or the relief after a major breakthrough. It’s quieter and more subtle. It’s choosing to eat breakfast instead of skipping it because you’re actually listening to your body’s cues. It’s sending the text tomorrow instead of right now because you’ve learned to respond rather than react. It’s catching yourself before you spiral, taking a deep breath, and realizing that you don’t have to spiral and you can take back your whole day. It’s also the little moments of grief that you’ll find yourself in for missing the chaos and that is totally normal and valid. You’re creating this entirely new relationship with yourself and your reality, there’s going to be some grief from the changes.

If you find yourself craving “more,” pause before labeling it as going backwards. Ask:

• Do I actually want excitement, or am I uncomfortable with calm?

• What does “aliveness” mean to me now that I’m no longer just surviving?

• How can I honor this slower, steadier version of myself?

Healing won’t always feel inspiring or transformative. Sometimes it’s quiet mornings, canceled plans, early bedtimes, and routines that don’t make for a great story. These moments are where your nervous system learns consistency, safety, and stability. That’s where real integration happens. Boredom isn’t the absence of healing, it’s the proof that your system finally feels safe enough to rest.

👉 Invitation for readers: This week, notice the moments that feel uneventful and notice internally if those are the beginning moments of peace taking root.

• Sam Villarreal, MS, LPC, LCDC