Most of us have had to move on from something. Whether your grandma died, you're getting over the loss of your first love, or you're moving from your home of 12 years, healing and adaption require a certain degree of self-awareness, mindfulness, and patience that sometimes just takes some time to manifest itself. Like anything, healing is a process. And like most processes, it is one well worth the time and effort.

A little before this time last year, my partner and I broke up. And I'm just starting to feel like myself again. The relationship started like many first relationships do, with few problems and a lot of daydreams. We were constantly writing poems for each other, staying up for long nights of talking on the phone, finding every excuse to be near each other. But somewhere before the middle-mark in a relationship that lasted about two years, the novelty of my "first love" waned.

Don't get me wrong, the love itself was still there; but at some point, you remove the veil between the two of you and the real world, and start to see things you hadn't let yourself before. Things were okay for a long time, but that's the thing, they were just okay. The arguments we got into were all the same: communication was still lacking, and for all the time we seemed to be "working things out," nothing new had ever actually been achieved. It took a while before either of us recognized that it was time to end it for good. Having been in a relatively committed relationship with the same person for two years, it was hard to move on from it, hard to even want to.

Before I could even think about healing and growing from the experience, I spent almost a year missing and pining after someone who would not be coming back. Even worst, I had to see this person every day of our last year in high school. We had two classes together, mutual friends, and lived in the same too small town. When I had to see them end up with someone else, it became nearly unbearable to even go to school, and I ended up skipping at least two of my periods a day. Eventually, we graduated and I didn't have to see them anymore.

After a year of being forced to watch my most hellish nightmare play out right in front of me, I was finally able to remove myself completely from the situation. The summer brought its own mourning, but it also offered freedom from all the drama of high school. In school, everything either I or my ex said or did got around was miscommunicated and ended up causing tension or hostility that hadn't been there before. After graduation, we would be able to move on without the extra weight of each other and everyone else. Not to mention, we would be leaving for college in only a few months time, and therefore leaving the rest of our high schools selves behind us for good.

The summer, like I had hoped it would be, was a time for healing. But what I didn't expect was the amount of growth that I would undergo. I spent so long telling myself I was broken and in need of repair, that I ignored the opportunity for actual growth and learning before me. I still missed my best friend, of course, and spent a lot of my time missing them. However, I spent more of it with other people I loved, experiencing new and unprecedented things, and taking the time I could to do things that brought me peace and self-assurance.

More than just a time for healing, it was a time for reflection. It had been a while since the break-up, and I felt more detached from the hurt I felt so intensely only months before, so I was able to look at the relationship with more appreciation and understanding. I now had a good foundation on which to build myself back up, and I would spend the first few months of college attempting to do that in a manner that was both healthy for me and respectful to the people around me.

It's been four or five months now since I started college, and I'm still trying to move on. As I said, it takes a long time. Longer for some than others. And I've learned that that's okay. Everything we do — grieving, healing, learning, and growing — happens on our own terms, and that is exactly the way it should be. As long as we remain conscious of our efforts towards health and happiness, we're on the right track.

Even now, I look back at where I was only six months ago and am so amazed at how far I've actually come in such a relatively short amount of time.

I look at me as I am now, too, and see how much farther I still have yet to go. That distance doesn't scare me as much as it once did, though, because I made the trek once, which means I can sure as hell make it again. As long as I remember what I've learned and what you if you haven't yet, will too: life is not a race, healing is not a race; because there is no one else to do it for you but you. So, if you look at it from the big picture, you are never losing and you are never behind. In fact, you are always right where you need to be. You are always looking ahead.